Caught (12 page)

Top of the 9
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Chace

My stomach is a ball of nerves as I walk across campus.  I take in the gorgeous brick buildings as I walk, hoping that my admiration for architecture will take my mind off how fuckin’ nervous I am.  It’s just my first class, it shouldn’t be any big deal, but for some reason I am borderline shittin’ bricks.

Shittin’ bricks.

A slow smile spreads across my face as Quinn’s flashes through my mind.  She loves that term.  I shake my head, freeing her from my thoughts.  It’s illogical that I can’t seem to break free from her.  It’s been weeks since we’ve had any sort of communication.  I imagine that Finley has told her that plans have changed for me, but I never made that call myself.  Cutting all ties has been the best thing for all of us.

Being in Boston was going to be good for me…and Finley.  We were in the same city, and it would certainly allow us to reconnect after a summer of being apart.  We’d already explored the city a bit since she moved into her dorm across town at Harvard just a few days ago.  We held hands as we walked the cobblestone streets, and as my thumb stroked the back of her hand, I breathed a sigh of relief.  This was the right thing to do, and swallowing back my secret was going to allow us to escape the storm that could have potentially ruined us.

As I continue walking, I can’t help but notice the girls passing me by.  Their heads turn as I pass, and I fight the urge to smirk smugly.  Yeah, being close to Finley is definitely going to be a good thing.

Since Boston College is a catholic university, all students are required to take courses on religion.  It definitely isn’t something high on my priorities list, but it certainly isn’t going to hurt anything.  The academic advisors gave a great spiel on how the theology courses expand your knowledge of the world, thus making you a better member of society.  The little pitch had been so good that they had me sold on a year of Biblical Heritage, parts one and two.  Yes, I would be studying biblical heritage for a whole year of my life.  Surely something I wasn’t going to use once I became a business owner, but I was taking it regardless.

Walking up to the building, I can’t help but wonder who the hell designed this campus.  Why were all the academic buildings clumped together in the middle of campus while the residential halls were as far away as possible, lining the opposite sides of the campus?  Didn’t make sense to me.  I open the door and allow the girls walking behind me to go in first.  They giggle openly once they are past me.  With a shake of my head, I follow them into the building.  I pull the piece of paper from my pocket that has my schedule and class locations on it.  Slowing my pace so that I don’t seem so lost, I glance down at the paper and quickly look up at the numbers on the plastic squares next to the doors.  I immediately know that I’m on the wrong floor and I proceed to look for an elevator. 

Lucky for me, I don’t have to wait long as the girls call out to me.  “Elevator’s right here!”

I move awkwardly, somewhere between a run and a jog, or as Quinn liked to refer to it, a rog.  There I go again, thinking about her when I shouldn’t.  I step into the elevator and the doors close, entrapping me with three college co-eds.  I don’t know whether I should be excited or terrified.  One in the back giggles again, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her and smile.  I’m flattered.  Really. 

“First day?” the one toward the front asks.

“First day of class, yes.  First day on campus, no.  I’ve been here a few weeks.”

“Ah, you must be a jock.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Only nerds or jocks show up two weeks before classes start.”  She scans me up and down.  “By the looks of you, I’m gonna say you’re the latter.”

The elevator dings, letting all of us know that we’ve arrived at the third flood.  I breathe a sigh of relief.  I can’t stand being the eye candy much longer.  It’s something I haven’t had to deal with all that much back home.  Ever since I was in high school everyone always knew that I was off limits.  Finley was crazy, and no one wanted to risk pissing her off.  Ever.  Well, everyone else. 

I step off the elevator and thank the girls for the ride.  The giggly one giggles again.  Surprise, I know.  “Well, we’ll be seeing you around for sure,” says the talkative one. 

“I guess you will.”  I take off in the direction I believe my classroom to be.  I need to put some distance between myself and the vultures that are college girls.  The shock that they’re so open is setting in as I walk away and hear one of them call after me.  I spin around in order to hear her better.  The look on my face makes her shrug and speak again.

“What’s your name, jock?”

“Chace.”

“Well, see you soon, Chace.” 

They wave and scurry off in the direction of their class down the hall.  I pause and consider dropping this class in order to pick up another Theology class, but I think better of it.  That would require far too much effort, so I spin around and walk into the classroom.  Once inside, I see that calling it a classroom is a vast understatement.  Enormous lecture hall is more appropriate in this case.  Which would make sense since all the first years have to take one of the theology options no matter their course of study. 

I glance around looking for a good place to sit my ass and decide that somewhere toward the middle would be my best bet.  As I walk down the stairs, I look around the hall at the already full seats.  There is such a diverse population in this one room that it boggles my mind.  There’s got to be almost a hundred kids in here, and each one of them is unique, equipped with their own story.  I wonder how many have a story similar to mine.  I plop down into the empty seat next to the aisle about halfway up from the podium and take my books and paper out of my backpack.

I’m digging through the bottom of the bag in search of a pen when two girls pass by me and take a seat a few rows ahead of me.  One of them with long dark hair, the other with two-thirds of her head covered with red locks.  Something doesn’t seem right – or seems familiar, I’m not really sure.  I lean into the aisle, my brow furrowing as I try to get a better look.  The two girls are talking. I can see that one has a nose piercing, as well as an upper and lower lip stud, but the other one has her back to me.  Something about her reminds me of Quinn. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I figure it’s just the way she carries herself.  I push myself back into my seat as the professor walks up to the podium and starts his lecture. 

Throughout the whole hour I keep looking at the back of the girls head.  She keeps her attention on the professor, never allowing me a glimpse of her face.  I almost wish that she would, because maybe then I’d stop obsessing and be able to pay attention a little better to the words that I am paying thousands of dollars to listen to. Or that my scholarship is paying for.

I see the other girl, the one who’s punk rock, lean over and whisper something into the other girl’s ear.  I hear giggles over the professor’s lecture.  He stops just long enough to glare at the girls before continuing.  Even her laugh is similar to Quinn’s.  It’s driving me nuts, and I’m contemplating walking down there just so that I can get a glimpse of her face when class is finally dismissed.  I toss my shit into my bag and jump up to my feet.  I consider getting the hell out of dodge. Grabbing some fresh air to clear my head would probably do me some good, but instead I stay frozen in place.  Waiting to see what I already know.  That I’m officially crazy.

I eagerly watch as the two girls stand, laughing hysterically over something.  Presumably related to their earlier interruption.  My eyes never leave the one I’m obsessing over as she tosses her long brown hair over her shoulder before placing her book bag strap over her shoulder and spinning around on her heels.  Without missing a beat, my eyes meet hers and my stomach drops to the floor.  For a second I wonder if I’m about to pass the fuck out, but instead I focus on the shock written all over her face as she mouths the words, “Oh my god.”  Her friend leans in and she says something hurriedly as they both continue to climb the stairs before stopping just in front of me.

For a second I’m not sure I can find any words.  It’s been weeks since we’ve spoken.  I’m not even sure where to begin.  So I say the one thing I’ve been trying to keep myself from thinking of since I made the tough decision to break free.  “Quinn…”

Bottom of the 9
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Quinn

My laugh comes to a halt. My throat dries up, and my eyes begin to prick with oncoming tears as my stomach drops off the face of the earth. This can’t be happening. My carefully laid out secret plans cannot be ending before they even have the chance to begin and bloom into something. I’m cursed. That has to be it. It’s what I get for doing what, or more like who, I did. You don’t do what I did and get let off the hook completely. This is my punishment.

I can’t find words—the things I’m usually never short on. So I just stare, looking for every detail to make sure this is really Chace, my Chace, and not some figment of my corrupted mind playing tricks on me.

Facial hair - check.

Little scar above the left eyebrow - check.

Broad yummy shoulders - check.

Sexy smirk because he’s reading my mind - check.

Makes my lady bits tingle - fucking check.

“It’s me, Q.” He stands, throwing his backpack over his shoulder with ease. He towers over me as he looks down with his boyish grin. I want to smile back, but before I can twist my lips up, his smile drops, and he closes his eyes while lightly shaking his head. Confusion and a game of twenty questions fills his stare once he refocuses on me. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t have time for this, nor do I want to explain, or more like justify my actions.  “Not now, Chace.” My words come out just above a whisper as I mimic his stare, not willing to back down or give in. I know I’ll eventually have no choice. But for now I plan to keep my hands knotted up in the reins until I get bucked off this one horse journey I thought I had ventured out on.

“Totally my bad for mis-pegging you.” I glance over at Kenna, who is checking out the eye candy that is Chace. I want to roll my eyes, smirk, laugh, and smack her all in one. Damn, why does this boy hold so much control over me? I grip my messenger bag strap even tighter and will myself some good ol’ fashion self-restraint.

“Chace, this is Kenna, my roommate. Kenna, this is Chace, my best friend from back home.” Chace slowly turns his attention from me as if it’s actually hard for him to do so. His politeness wins out and he sticks out his hand, taking Kenna’s into his. He nods and smiles, telling her it’s nice to meet her, and I can practically hear her dripping into a puddle next to me.

Drip.

Drip.

The boy isn’t even her type, yet he has the same effect. And here I thought I was rooming with some badass, attitude blaring, not giving a shit chick. Goes to show that you truly can’t judge a book by its cover.  Kenna attempts to chat casually with Chace. He answers her questions, but his eyes keep wandering in my direction.

“I can’t believe that you’re here,” Chace says to me, completely ignoring Kenna’s last question.

I force a smile while I continue to freak out deep down. “I guess I could say the same about you.” I pause, thinking about my next move.  My secret is out and I need to do damage control. “Chace, please don’t tell Fin.  Not yet.”  He nods, not pressing me on the topic, because deep down I know he understands.  With each passing moment my anxiety increases.  I need to get the hell out of dodge. ASAP.  I’m not ready to go there with him.  Hell, I’m not even ready to be standing in the same room with him.  Things are so unsettled at the moment that I can’t think straight.  Before I go crazy, I decide that I’ve got to cut this short.  “Well, we’ve got to go.”

Kenna looks at me, a cross between confused and ticked.  “We do?”

“Yeah. We do.”  I punctuate my sentence with a knowing look.  “Remember, you mentioned something about going to see your
boyfriend
.”  I put emphasis on the word as a gentle reminder.  Hands off, Kenna.

As if I snapped Kenna out of a drug induced haze, her head snaps to the left and she nods. “Oh, yeah.  That’s right.”

Sensing that my moment of escape is slipping away, I decide to make the move quickly and mutter a quick goodbye before grabbing Kenna’s hand and pulling her up the stairs of the lecture hall.  Once Chace realizes I’m making an escape for it he starts to chase us. 

“Quinn, I’d really like to talk to you,” he pleads to my back.

I look over my shoulder at him.  “I’m not in the mood to talk about any of it with you right now, Chacer.  But it looks like you’re going to be having plenty of opportunities to talk later.”

“But…”

I turn away from him.  I can’t look him in the eyes. My resolve will waiver, and I can’t afford that any longer.  “No buts, Chace.  I’ll see you around.”

His footsteps behind me fade and I know that he’s taken the hint.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Kenna and I continue walking across campus in silence.  I’m not sure where we’re going, the location is irrelevant, I just need to get away.

Minutes pass before Kenna decides to break the silence.  “Wanna fill me in?”

“Not really.”

“Well, all I know is that boy is a dish, and the unease between you both is like out of control.  You’ve got some shit going on, and the best thing to do is vent to an uninvolved third party.”  I look at her.  She smiles genuinely before offering, “I’m a great listener.”

She’s right.  Talking about it might help.  Plus Kenna might be able to offer up some advice.  God knows I sure could use it.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Kenna takes out a pack of Marlboro Lights and sticks one between her lips.  She sits down on one of the benches next to the cobblestone street and I follow suit before taking a deep breath.

“Just start at the beginning,” she says before lighting the end of her cigarette.

So I do.  I tell her how Chace and I have been friends since childhood.  How Finley moved to town when we were teenagers and took over my life.  I run her through the dynamics of our relationships, how the three of us were inseparable, but that being with Chace was always something I wanted.  How my plan was to come to BC without telling anyone.  That it was meant to be my chance at having a fresh start; a shot at being just Quinn.  Not Quinn, Finley and Chace’s best friend.  And then I tell her how I finally got my wish.  How Finley’s fucked up suggestion gave me everything I ever wanted.  And now that I have it, I want to give it all back.  Then finally, I tell her that him being here is never something I thought would happen.  That he is going to want answers about my deception.  I tell her how I am not sure I could be around him anymore because my feelings for him have only multiplied. 
                 “I’m so fucked,” I say once I finish telling her every detail of my story.

“Girl, sounds to me like you need a drink.”

“I need more than that.  I need—”

“A tattoo,” Kenna interjects, a slow smile spreading across her face as she appears deep in thought.  “Or even better…a piercing.”

I consider this for a brief second.  “I choose all three.”

“Well then, I’m just the girl to help.  My boyfriend owns a tattoo shop just inside the city.  And he keeps some beer in the fridge.”

I realize it isn’t the best thing for me to go do considering I just found out that I’m not going to be able to continue hiding from my problems.  But it’s better than any alternative. “Well, what are we waiting for?”