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I bet it made the muscles in his abdomen etch even deeper.
Jesus.
My mind did not need to be going there right this moment with him staring at me, brows somewhat creased, like my presence didn’t make sense at all.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, tone cold.
His tone had never been cold before. At least not when he was addressing me.
There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as I swallowed hard, willing my voice to come off stronger than I was currently feeling. “It’s New Years Eve.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, giving me a brow raise.
Not just cold, frigid. Glacial.
I blinked hard, willing myself to keep it together, to just get the next sentence out. After that, come what may, I could haul ass right back out of this building and cry my heart out over a slice at Sbarro’s before getting on the next train back to Navesink Bank where I could promptly dig a nice, deep hole, and curl up to die of embarrassment in it.
“You once said that, since we’re friends, if we are alone on New Years, to meet here.”
His hand rose, a glass of whiskey catching the light as he rested his knuckles on the doorjamb, blocking any possible entry. He didn’t really even need to speak; that was telling enough.
“The problem there being that we aren’t friends anymore, Aven.” The sinking feeling in my belly intensified, making me feel suddenly queasy, and not at all interested in greasy, delicious New York pizza. I was about ready to turn on my heel and drag my busted pride back to the elevator when he spoke again. “We were on the way to becoming a lot more than friends. That is until I caught Fenway grab-assing and kissing you right on the street out front of my building.”
Oh.
Well.
That explained it, didn’t it?
He had been back then.
And he had come out to witness what was a completely innocent – at least on my part – greeting and farewell. Yes, he had lifted me up by my butt. I had also told him that it was off-limits, something he clearly couldn’t have heard from where he was likely watching across the street. And, yes, he had kissed me on the lips. But it wasn’t a kiss. It was a peck. It lasted less than a blink. And, again, I told him a kiss on the cheek was as friendly as we were going to get. Another thing he could not have heard from across the street.
And Quin really, really didn’t like Fenway. So there he was thinking we had been building something for over a month even through the distance, and he comes home to find me – he thought – shacked up with a man who had made him spend Christmas in a shack in the woods in Russia.
He had specifically warned me off Fenway too.
I could see where he was coming from.
But that didn’t mean it was okay.
To jump to conclusions.
Not to confront me if he had an issue.
Just radio silence like a five-year-old who didn’t get his way.
My chin lifted, and I felt challenge in my eyes, something he no doubt picked up on judging by the way his brows furrowed slightly.
“If you are going to go be all butthurt over anyone, it should probably be Gunner,” I said, letting the words land, saying nothing else, demanding he ask for answers.
“Gunner? You’re fucking Gunner?” he asked, jaw tight.
“No, actually. I’m not fucking anyone. But, gee, thanks for thinking I am just making my way through all your acquaintances. I can see you have a very high opinion of me. Happy fucking New Year, Quin,” I snapped, shoving his present into his chest, surprising him enough to reach for it as I turned on my heel, and stormed away.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” he said just as I got to the elevator, hands suddenly free, reaching to curl his fingers around my arm, forcing me to turn to face him. “You can’t say shit like that, and storm off.”
“Really? I can’t? But you can totally just assume things about me and storm off, right? That’s totally cool? If you had maybe hung around, Quin, you would have seen that that supposed kiss between Fenway and me lasted all of a second. And it was his way of saying goodbye before he charted off to Australia to go sleep his way through all the beautiful women in Sydney. Nothing happened between us aside from friendship. And many heated board game nights since he was trapped. And I was fucking lonely, Quin. It was innocent. He’s a friend.”
The tension in his features seemed to lessen immediately. The ticking in his jaw was gone. The tightness of his mouth eased. And I saw nothing but relief in his eyes.
“What was that crack about Gunner then?” he asked, fingers lessening their grip, but not releasing me like he was afraid that if he did, I would disappear into the elevator doors that just dinged open to our side.
