Love in Slow Motion

5. Quinn

5 QUINN

I wake up in the pool chair, stiff and chilled. My plate is on the ground beside me, and I pick it up and go back inside. A glance at the clock on the stove tells me it’s almost midnight. The house is quiet, undisturbed, like no one has moved in hours. Setting my plate in the sink, I tiptoe down the hallway to mine and Chase’s room.

Chase is asleep, still dressed, lying on top of the comforter. It’s like he was waiting for me to come back, like he wanted to participate in the nightly routine we used to have: talking while we scrubbed faces, brushed teeth, changed clothes.

I can’t even look at him. I don’t want to get into that bed beside him. I don’t want to lie next to him, risk rolling over and touching him in the night.

There are five rooms in this house. Three in this hallway, with Sabrina and Lydia already in the other two. Madison is in the master bedroom on the other side of the house. But there’s an entire basement downstairs. Nobody likes the basement. There’s a second kitchen down there, an extra bathroom, a second living room, and a bedroom. But instead of a gorgeous view of the lake, there’s just walls. High on the walls, little rectangular windows face out onto the front of the house, where all of our cars are parked. But that’s it. No sunsets. No beautiful view.

Empty.

I grab a set of clothes from my suitcase as I go back out as quietly as I came in. The stairs down to the basement are behind the kitchen, and the house remains perfectly still as I move through the shadows. Lydia must have turned the lights out when she thought everyone was in bed. Somehow, she didn’t see me out there by the pool.

As I descend into the basement, I get a little chill. It’s much colder down here, and the dark is impenetrable. I don’t bother to flip on the light in the main room. I keep moving to the bedroom, feeling my way in what little moonlight makes it in through the small, high windows.

I’ve only been down here a few times, mostly during the big 4th of July party at the end of the trip. Every year, Madison throws a huge 4th of July party and invites everyone from the surrounding neighborhoods to attend. And almost every year, Chase and I would end up down here, fucking on the couch. Nobody who isn’t a Lynch knows about the basement, so it seemed like a good place to have fun.

I erase the memories of heavy breathing and strawberry daquiris from my mind and open the door to the bedroom. The bed isn’t a king. This one is smaller than the one upstairs, but that’s fine because I don’t have to share it with anyone. I shut the door and feel the first real peace I’ve felt since I got here. All I have to do is make it through this night, sneak back upstairs in the morning before everyone is awake, and then I can go home.

I slip into my pajamas, sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and slide into the bed. The sheets are cold, and the mattress is far softer than what we have at home. Chase likes a hard mattress, even though I don’t, so the bed at home is firmer than I’d like. As soon as I have the money, I’ll replace it.

I hope that king-sized upstairs has a mattress so soft that Chase wakes up with a backache.

Now that I’m here, I realize I’m not really that tired anymore. I slept on that pool chair for almost three hours, so now I’m wide awake. There’s no cell service out here, so I can’t scroll around on my phone. I decide to just let myself be. In the dark, in the quiet. It’s like being at home, but here, I’m not alone.

I don’t know how long I lay like that before I feel myself starting to drift.

And then I hear a sound.

It’s not outside. These windows are so thick that hearing what’s going on out on the lake is almost impossible. No, it’s definitely inside the house. And if I can hear it, that means it’s down in the basement.

I can hear the quiet shifting of fabric. I sit up quickly. What if it’s a rat or something? There are all kinds of wild animals on the lake. Oh, fuck. What if it’s a snake?

I hold my breath, trying not to make any noise as I listen, the covers pulled up around my chin.

The doorknob to my room turns, and I squeak, pushing myself back against the headboard.

Snakes can’t turn doorknobs. Who the fuck is trying to get into this room right now? Is it someone who waited for everyone to go to bed, someone peeking in through the windows who saw that I went down to the basement, where I’m alone and isolated?

The door opens silently, and a dark figure stands in the doorway, big, broad-shouldered, obviously male. I should probably scream, right? Alert the house to an intruder? But I can’t seem to get my mouth to open.

And then the man steps into the moonlight, and every muscle in my body goes slack.

Reed smiles. “Hey, Quinn.”