Playboy For Hire

15. Ryder

15

RYDER

I lay with Quinn in my bed, listening to his breathing get slower and steadier. My arm was draped across him, and I could feel his chest rise and fall, feel his heart beating under his ribs. Quinn was falling asleep, but me? My mind was racing.

I kept thinking about what he’d said earlier that night, about not really doing random hookups. I wondered if he considered what we were doing just a hookup. And I wondered when it had stopped being that, for me.

My feelings had developed so slowly, I’d barely noticed. Or maybe they’d happened suddenly, but all the way back in the beginning, when I wasn’t on my guard. Had I fallen for him that first night? Had it been so fast, I hadn’t had a chance to notice? Maybe I’d been kidding myself this whole time.

All I knew was that I was so scared, I wanted to vomit. I wanted to run and hide, or maybe crawl out of my skin and cease to exist. It was all too much.

I wanted Quinn so badly. And having sex hadn’t changed that. If anything, it just made me want him more.

But it also made me feel vulnerable. I was so undone by him. His beauty. His confidence. The way he seemed to want me, to pull me ever closer.

I wanted that too, more than I’d ever wanted anyone else, and that terrified me.

I was a college student with no job prospects. I struggled with schoolwork, couldn’t be trusted with responsibilities, and disappointed the people who were supposed to love me most.

How long would it be before Quinn saw that, and left? He was five years older. He had a law degree, a real job and real life. There was no way this could last.

I remembered the night Molly had broken up with me. She’d said we had different priorities. That our lives were going in different directions. She might as well have just come out and said I was too dumb to keep up with her and her friends.

I’d heard through the grapevine that she was going to graduate summa cum laude this year. She’d double-majored in economics and chemistry. She was getting a master’s degree at Harvard, and spending the summer interning at a research hospital.

I hadn’t been good enough for her. I wouldn’t be good enough for Quinn either. And that hurt.

As much as I tried not to let my parents’ obvious regrets get to me, I was still their kid. I still wanted their approval. And they never gave it. I didn’t want to care anymore, but I did, and it ripped me apart.

Quinn saw that. He’d stuck up for me. Said I was good.

But he hadn’t said the words I longed to hear. You’re smart. You’re capable. You’re talented. I want to show you off to the world. I want to tell everyone I meet that I’m with you .

Quinn was sweet, but he was also honest. He wasn’t going to say something he didn’t believe.

I pushed up onto my elbow, studying his face. He looked so peaceful, so at ease as he slept. I wanted to mold myself to his body, to show him how much I wanted him. Needed him.

Loved him ?

Fuck, this was bad. I ached for him, but I ached for myself too. I was sick of not measuring up. Sick of opening myself up, only to get hurt, over and over again.

I loved Quinn. But that would never be reciprocated. And I needed to protect myself before things got worse.

I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. I was too wired. Too scared. Too depressed. And it was torture, lying next to him, holding him, knowing it would be the last time.

When Quinn began shifting in bed the next morning, the clock said it was only seven. But when he slipped out of bed without saying anything to me, I was relieved. He was doing the same thing I’d done, that first night at his apartment. He was sneaking out. I closed my eyes and let it happen.

It hurt, him leaving without saying goodbye. But I knew it needed to happen. I just wished I could have held onto the fantasy a little longer.

When I heard the front door close, I sat up, feeling drained and depressed. I rubbed at my eyes, grainy from lack of sleep. The sun slanting through the blinds was giving me a headache.

God, I wanted to sleep for the next five years. But I knew if I stayed in bed, I’d just ruminate and drive myself crazier. No, what I needed was to get up, go to the gym, and put my body through the hardest workout I could manage. I needed to be so tired I couldn’t even think about Quinn.

I stumbled to the bathroom and popped two ibuprofen, washing them down with a glass of water. I brushed my teeth—we’d been too distracted to do that last night—then padded downstairs. I needed a gallon of coffee and a protein bar.

I started the coffee maker, grabbed a bar, then walked to the stairs to go up and change into gym clothes. I was just passing the front door when it opened, and Quinn appeared, holding two cups of coffee in his hand and something wrapped in plastic in his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, utterly confused.

He said something incomprehensible around the thing in his mouth. Then he shook his head and removed it, clutching it in his hand.

“I got some coffee for us,” he said. “Here, this one’s yours.”

He held the cardboard cup out to me. All I could do was stare at it, trying to process what it meant. I’d thought Quinn was gone. It had hurt, but it was better than this. Better than him being nice and dragging this out. Better than the two of us trying to make this work, only for him to realize later he needed more than I could give.

I never wanted to see Quinn’s eyes fill with the same disappointment I saw from my parents, from Molly, from everyone else I’d ever been close to. But there was only one way to make sure I didn’t.

“When I didn’t see you this morning, I thought you’d left,” I said slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. “I wish you had.”

“What?” He looked like he hadn’t heard me correctly.

“We need to talk,” I said heavily. “About this. About us.” I waved a hand at the coffees he was holding.

“What?” he said again. “Why?”

I steeled myself. “We can’t keep doing this. I can’t, anyway. It’s just not gonna work, long term.”

“But I—I’m sorry, I feel like I missed a step somewhere.” Quinn shook his head. “Where is this coming from?”

“I told you in the beginning that I don’t do relationships.”

“But I’m not trying to change your mind on that?”

Bewilderment filled his eyes, and hurt. I felt like a terrible person. But if I had to hurt him in the short run to protect myself in the long run, I’d do what I needed to. He’d get over it. He was smart and accomplished and gorgeous. He’d have no trouble finding someone who was worthy of him.

“What do you call this?” I pointed at the coffee cups.

“Coffee?” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

“Maybe not at first. But first it’s coffee, then it’s breakfast, and then it’s dates that aren’t really dates and soon it’s dinner with my parents, but you’re my real boyfriend this time, and I already told you, that’s not me. I don’t do emotions.”

Quinn stared at me. “I don’t get it. I never said I—I mean, can’t we just keep doing what we were doing?”

“No.”

I didn’t soften the word, didn’t add caveats. I just let it hang in the air between us, knowing how brutal it sounded.

“So what are you saying?” His eyes were pained.

“I’m saying I can’t see you again.” My heart broke as I said it, but I knew it was true. “Not as a client, not as a friend, and definitely not as anything more.”

At first, I’d hoped I could keep Quinn as a friend if we kept things strictly platonic. Then I’d told myself it could get physical, but nothing more than that. But I’d failed on both accounts. It hurt, knowing I wouldn’t see him anymore. But imagining Quinn distancing himself from me, trying to let me down gently when he realized we were a mistake? That would hurt way, way worse.

“I’m not trying to make it more,” Quinn said. “You’re the one who invited me to dinner with your parents, you know.”

“And look what it led to.” I added some disdain to my voice. “Can you really tell me this is still just fun for you? Can you honestly say you haven’t started to want more?”

Part of me hoped he would say that. Hoped that I would believe him. But I knew he wouldn’t.

Quinn was honest, and he wasn’t that hard to read. That was part of what I loved about him. But it was also why I had to end things before they got worse. Because it would be impossible for him to hide his feelings, once he didn’t want me anymore.

In truth, I wasn’t just saving myself long-term pain—I was saving Quinn, too. I wouldn’t put it past him to realize he didn’t want me anymore, but stay with me out of a sense of obligation. I didn’t want to put him through that, whenever it finally happened.

His mouth opened, closed, opened again. Finally, he said, “No. I guess I can’t.”

“I clearly gave you the wrong impression,” I said brusquely. “I never meant to lead you on, but I have, and that’s why we need to stop seeing each other. It’ll be best for us both in the long run.”

“Can you honestly tell me that you don’t feel anything either?” Quinn asked. “That you don’t want something more?”

More than you could imagine , I thought to myself. But I forced my face to stillness, forced my voice to stay neutral. Cold, even. I was saving us both in the long run.

“I’m sorry. But I just don’t.”