The Panty Whisperer: The Complete Series (35 page)

Whatever. I know he's enjoying this shit.

"I'm sorry." I ease my shoulders into a shrug.

"What are you sorry for, Joel?"

Oh fuck. Questions aren't good. Usually I would deflect with some sort of compliment, but that doesn't really apply to my best friend's woman.
Fuck.
"Umm, umm—" I'm so screwed. My brain wasn't ready to be hammered with an interview. "For not listening to you." I say it slow, more like a question. Tommy throws me a thumbs up so I try to appear confident in my answer.

"It'll do for now. Get in the car. Obi-Tom tells me you've been a good little padawan bitch the last few hours." She cracks a smile.

I shoot my head up to Tommy and he's giving me the finger and grinning. He turns into a statue of serious when Megan flips around. She smiles and punches him in the gut as she walks past him. Tommy doubles over at the waist.

"I see everything." Her back is to us as she gets in the car.

Tommy looks like he's about to spill his lunch, and I grin as I walk by.

"God I love her." His voice is like a mumbled groan as he stands up and walks to the car.

I slide into the back seat and Tommy gets in the front. "What about the car?"

"I called the rental company. They're sending someone for it." Tommy's voice still hasn't recovered from getting socked in the stomach.

I look up and catch Megan's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"So we good to go?" she asks.

"Let's do it."

She smiles back at me. "Okay."

JOEL

M
EGAN
PULLS
INTO
the parking lot. The last time I was here was the night Mom passed, and when I told Quinn I loved her. I try not to think about it.

I look over and see Quinn's car parked next to a light pole.

"You got this shit, man." Tommy sticks his fist back toward me, and I tap it with my knuckles.

"Thanks, bro."

"Good luck." Megan is still grinning in the front seat, and keeps looking over at Tommy.

"Well, I think this is where I—" I point to my door.

"Yep," says Tommy.

I step out of the car, and it smells like fall outside. The leaves are turning all kinds of reds, and bright oranges to match the sun that's setting behind the bleachers on the other side of the field. Walking up to the entrance, I squeeze myself between the chained gate. The same way Quinn and I did the last time we were here.

My head scans the area, looking to catch a glimpse of Quinn's familiar blonde hair. I head up the ramp leading up to the bleachers, hands in my pockets, trying to think of what to say or do. The harder I try, the more jumbled my thoughts become. All that races through my mind is Quinn, hurting.

Finally, I turn around the corner so that I can see everything. I look up the rows and my breath hitches.

There she is, sitting in the middle of the bleachers with her face buried in her palms. I freeze, unable to move for what seems like hours, but most likely is only a matter of seconds. The fading sunlight highlights all of her features, from her hair down to the curve of her breasts.

She's wearing jeans and a blue tank top wrapped in a cardigan, hair down and flowing across her shoulders. Every step I take toward her seems to grow heavier, like I'm walking in the ocean and the water is getting deeper. Will I drown when I get to her?

She doesn't lift her head from her palms as I near, and I keep moving until I'm standing in the aisle, staring at her. It turns awkward when she doesn't realize I'm there. What the fuck should I do?

I don't think it through, and I tap my foot on the thin metal of the bleachers.

The sound startles her. She looks up and squeals, then flies back about two feet on the metal bench. I do my best not to laugh, but it has to be apparent, and I can't fight the smile much longer.

She clutches her palms to her chest, her breaths coming in large bursts, and she smiles. Then I watch as she processes who's standing in front of her.

The gorgeous smile quickly disappears, and she starts to tense. I happen to know that the anger usually follows.

"Why are you here?" Her voice cracks a little.

I hold up both of my hands. "I just wanted to explain things. But if you want me to go I will. I don't want to upset you more." I start to back away.

"What is there to explain,
Joel
?" The volume in her voice is rising, and I can practically feel the heat radiating from her face. I start to speak, and she cuts me off. "You always have an explanation, for everything. But shit like this keeps happening."

"I'm just going to go. I don't want you to hurt more than you have to." I turn on my heel and head down the steps. Before I met Quinn I would've never given in like this. I would've been relentless until I got what I wanted.

But, I can't watch her hurt any more. She deserves more than that. I want her to be happy.

"Did you sleep with her?"

The words are like an ice shard in my back the way she says them. Maybe I'll never escape this kind of questioning. I only have myself to blame for it.

I turn back toward her and stare into her welled up eyes. "No. I didn't."

Her lips curl up slightly, but she tries to hide it. "Why can't I believe you?"

"Do you want to see the messages? I'll show you. You can go through my whole phone if you want." I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up.

"God." She stands up and starts pacing back and forth in the aisle. "How do you do this to me?"

I have no clue how to answer her. I start to respond, and she cuts me off.

"You drive me fucking batty. I don't know how or why." She keeps turning her gaze to me and then looking away. "You transform me into this clingy, insecure—weakling." Quinn makes some weird gesture with her hands flailing around when she says "weakling." She looks back at me for another moment. "It's just, ugh—"

It's insanely cute when she gets worked up, and I want to smile, and run up and kiss her. But I'm torn, and I don't want to make things worse. "I don't want to make your life more complicated than it has to be. It's why I offered up the phone. I want you. I have since I met you. And I fucked that up really bad. I did shitty things. And yeah, I should've never gone to her house. But the message you saw was bullshit. I told her to leave me alone, that nothing was going to happen. She sent that message anyway. I haven't been with anyone else, since before the night we went bowling."

Her lips start to do the half-smile thing again, then they flatten once more. Her arms fly in the air and she makes a flustered sound that's something like a growl.

Fuck this Joel, shit or get off the pot.

I know I've done nothing wrong this time, and I won't ever do anything to hurt her again. Knowing that, fuels my steps as I take off up the stairs toward her.

When I'm about three steps away she says, "What the hell are you—"

Both of my hands go into her hair and I crush her mouth with mine, slanting over her as our lips meet in the middle. She's frozen stiff, but almost immediately loosens, and then her mouth parts and our tongues intertwine, rough at first, but then into a smooth rhythm like that first time at her work and at the bowling alley.

When our mouths finally part, I drop a kiss on her forehead and then press my forehead to hers while staring into her eyes. My hands move from her hair to her shoulders and I caress them up and down. "I love you. I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you too. And you know I love you." She looks away.

Fuck, I can't win with her. "Look at my messages. You'll see I told her to fuck off. It was a mistake going there, but I realized it as soon as—"

She silences me with her index finger over my lips. "I believe you."

I start to say something else, and then her words resonate. "Here, let me—"

She stops me from reaching into my pocket. "No. I trust you. I have to do that if we're going to make this shit work."

"I'm sorry. For everything I put you through. The airport. Your job."

Her lips are on mine as I finish my sentence, as if she's trying to shut me up. I don't mind at all. She finally releases me from her grasp. "We'll figure it out,
Herbert
."

QUINN

3 MONTHS LATER

I
'
VE
NEVER
BEEN
so happy to get out of a room full of nerds in my life. We stroll through the lobby of the movie theater, and there are grown men everywhere, dressed as characters from
Star Wars
. The stale popcorn smell wafts across my nose as I look over at Megan. She's dressed as Rey. Big mistake on her part that I'm sure she regrets, because she's being ogled by every forty-year-old man in a costume.

"Babe, you look so fucking hot in that tee shirt." Joel wraps his arm around me and the light saber strapped to his hip digs into mine.

I wince a little.

"Shit, sorry babe." He shifts away.

"It's okay." I wore a plain black and yellow
Star Wars
tee shirt just for him. "As long as you plan on force choking me later."

A passer-by wearing a Bobba Fett helmet starts to cough like something is lodged in his throat when he hears it. I can't believe I know all these characters' names. What has become of me?

I look up at Joel in his Luke Skywalker get-up and my question is quickly answered.

"That can be arranged." He smiles.

"They made me a pussy!"

We both flip around, along with Megan. Tommy is behind us in authentic Kylo Ren garb complete with voice synthesizer and everything. His words are deep and eerie sounding.

"Calm down, Kylo. Always getting mad about something." Joel snickers.

Tommy rips the mask off of his head and tucks it under his arm. "You probably liked that abomination didn't you?"

"Well yes. What? You didn't?" Joel nudges me.

"Oh I liked it the first time I saw it. You know? When we watched episode four together?" He's huffing and puffing like he's either worked up from wearing the mask, or it's from his anger toward the film. Probably a little of both.

"They weren't that similar." Joel grins at me again.

"Weren't that—" Tommy gasps. "Don't even get me started on fucking Finn! And you!" He flips around to Megan, but apparently he's treating her as if she's Rey. "You just magically—" He waves his arms about in the air. "—know how to use a fucking light saber and can battle someone who's been training with Jedis his whole life." There's a pause. "Poppycock!"

Tommy storms off and stops in front of the large cardboard cut-out advertisement for the film.

"Oh shit." Joel removes his arm from my waist and starts toward Tommy. He's too late.

Tommy throws his mask and hood back on, and wields a three-pronged, red light saber from his hip. "Ahh!" He starts pummeling the character cut-outs, effectively knocking down the whole display and keeps whacking it with his light saber.

"Jesus Christ, Tommy!" Megan and I stop at a distance and she folds her arms across her chest.

"Should we do something?" I ask.

"No, no. Boys will be boys."

I watch Joel try and pull Tommy away as the movie theater workers scramble around frantically. Joel finally pulls him off of the display and shakes some sense into him. They both peer around the room, then giggle like children, and haul ass for the front door through a sea of people.

I turn and look at Megan. "Did that really just happen?"

We hook arms and stroll toward the parking lot, laughing.

"Psst!" The sound comes from the side of the theater away from the doors as we walk outside.

We poke our heads around and it's Tommy.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Megan waves her arm at him, motioning him over.

"Are we good?" His voice is a whisper.

I can hear Skywalker's muffled laughter behind him.

"Get the fuck out of here. Seriously. You're acting like children." Megan tries to mask her laughter and is failing.