Chapter
Fourteen
Emery
When Flynn leans in, I freeze a bit.
I just wanted to dance, but before I can push him away, he asks, “How pissed do you think he’ll get if I grab your ass?”
I snort. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about me kneeing you in the balls.”
His laughter is contagious, but it’s all I have to say to keep him in line. I feel Quinn’s gaze on me, but when I look over at him, he’s deep in conversation with Journey.
Whatever.
“Shots!” Sawyer and Katarina shout, and of course, I’m down. Anything to extinguish the inferno burning inside me. The feel of Quinn’s lips against my ear, how his jaw was so strong in my palm, the way his eyes seared into mine. God, I want him. I miss him. I need him.
But nooooo… He’s engaged .
We throw back a tequila shot, and then another one, before Flynn has somehow talked the DJ into letting us do karaoke. Probably because the only people up here are invitees of Flynn. I laugh and sit as far away from Quinn as possible. That doesn’t mean his scorching gaze doesn’t stay on me. I feel his eyes all over me. Drinking me in. When I meet those blue depths, though, I see nothing but anger in them.
I don’t know what he has to be angry about. I told him I dressed like this for him.
It doesn’t matter who is looking; it’s all for him.
But he won’t take it.
Damn it. This is backfiring on me, because being the center of Quinn’s wanton gaze has me shaking all over. I have to press my thighs together to keep my pussy on lock and to give myself a bit of relief. All I know is that I can’t take it. Which is why I think I start throwing back more shots than needed. Just to feel numb to his intense gaze. I thought this was a good idea. I thought inviting him out would break him, but my plan backfired, and now I’m the one all in knots over him.
When I feel the pricking of tears at the backs of my eyes, I quickly shake my head and walk over to the stage. I tell the DJ what I want, and when Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together” starts playing, I belt it out like I’m the queen herself. I don’t sound half as good and I’m pretty sure I’m slurring my words, but I sing the song like I wrote it, and on the dedication page of the album, it reads:
For only Quinn.
I look pathetic. I know I do. Especially when the tears start trailing down my cheeks. All I do is squeeze my eyes tighter and sing for him. Like he has time after time for me. Back when I was dumb and it made me mad instead of feeling unbelievably honored to be on the receiving end of Quinn Adler’s sweet voice. God, I was an idiot.
When I hear our group start singing with me, I open my eyes to find everyone’s phone flashlights on, and they’re all waving them like this is a Mariah Carey concert instead of my pathetic attempt at wooing the man I love. I let out a breathy giggle as everyone scream-sings, but when my eyes fall on Quinn, he looks absolutely enraged. His hands are fisted at his sides, and his eyes are dark and ominous. I don’t understand the rage, but still, I point to him as I sing the chorus.
He doesn’t give me a smirk.
Or even laugh at me.
Or tell me he wants me back.
Instead, he gets up and rushes to the stairwell that leads to the back parking lot.
I drop the mic, much to everyone’s displeasure, or maybe their gratitude, before I take off after him. He’s a good number of steps in front of me, but I rush after him, yelling his name. He ignores me, but I still plead.
“Please, stop.”
He hits a landing that leads to another set of steps and whirls around. “No, Em. What the hell was that? I’m engaged, and you’re singing to me like that?”
“You did it to me!” I yell back, but he shakes his head. “On numerous occasions and in front of our families.”
“Yes, but unlike me, you were never tied down, because tying you down is like caging a fucking badger!”
“I didn’t want to be tied down until now. And now, I want you.”
“Sure, you do,” he says on a laugh. “You only want me because you can’t have me.”
“That’s not true. I have missed you like crazy.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, anger and hurt front and center in his eyes. “No call, no text, no anything. But you missed me?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had.”
He laughs at that, shaking his head. “You’re drunk, Em. I’ll talk to you later.”
“No,” I say, stopping his progression down the stairs with a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to reach you like you did with me.”
He steps toward me, his eyes wild. “But I didn’t reach you, did I? You fucking left me!” he roars, pulling his arm from my grasp. “You didn’t want me, remember?”
“Quinn, it isn’t that I didn’t want you,” I plead, and tears gather in my eyes. “I was scared, I was too young, and we’re not our parents!”
Fury shines in his eyes. “I don’t want to be them! I want to be us. I mean, fuck, Em. I gave you my whole fucking heart.”
“And I don’t want to give it back. You can’t have it back. Quinn, please,” I say once more when he starts to walk away, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I made a mistake.”
He laughs in such a taunting way, I grind my molars. “And you didn’t want to fix it until I showed up engaged to someone else.”
I take his hands in mine, threading our fingers. “I wasn’t thinking. I was scared out of my mind because I would have given up my dreams for you?—”
“I never asked for that!” he yells, his voice bouncing off the stairwell. “I’d never ask that of you. I wanted to be your future, not the end for you.”
“I didn’t realize that at the time, but I do now, truly,” I insist, squeezing his hands. Both of us are breathing hard, our breaths filling the space between us, and all I want to do is to close in and press my lips to his. Tell him with my actions what my words aren’t accomplishing. “Let’s take a moment.”
He shakes his head, pulling his hands from mine. “You have to stop this. All of it. Ava isn’t happy. She wants you out of my place, but I didn’t want to do that to you. We have always been friends?—”
“Best friends,” I correct, and he glares.
On an exhale, he says, “You can’t do shit like that anymore.”
“I just wanted to reach you. Please, let me right my wrongs.”
He shakes his head. “Why in the hell would you think you can reach me now when I’m marrying someone else? When I’ve moved on?”
Now I’m the one shaking my head. “Quinn, I know you. You don’t fucking love her. Stop lying to yourself and to me. We both know the truth.”
He steps in close as he snaps his hand out, clutching my jaw. I go willingly, completely enthralled by the feel of his hand on me, the intensity of his gaze as he leans in. “Wanna know the fucking truth, Emery?” Before I can answer or even take in another breath, he sneers, “I don’t love you.”
He pushes me away, and he might as well have kicked me square in the gut. All the air rushes out of my lungs, and my heart sinks. I press my hands to my stomach, my eyes drowning in tears as I shake my head, trying to free myself from his words that are on replay in my head.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
No, it can’t be true. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he declares, and I search his face, looking for the tell. But it’s not fucking there.
A sob racks me as I shake my head. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs, unaffected by my tears. “Don’t. Either way, I’m marrying Ava, okay? Stop this. Life isn’t a fucking game anymore, Emery. I’m done. Now, for the sake of our friendship, stop.”
My limbs feel like lead as he turns and heads down the stairs. I close my eyes and crumple to the floor in a sobbing, broken, drunken mess.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
How did I let this happen?