Page 50 of Kitty Season
Fuck. Quinn’s going to be pissed.
“I was going to say it was too wise and beautiful to be inviting a stranger into your car in the middle of the night, but both suit.”
“You’re hardly a stranger, Mr. Becker,” she replied, eyes checking her ruby red lipstick in the mirror.
“Just strange then?”
Letting her hand fall from her mouth, I watch her lips transform from pouty to wicked. “Aren’t we all?”
Any hopeI carried of Quinn forgiving me, is dashed the second I walk into her folks with Plum on my arm.
Plum’s choice. Not mine.
I suggested we enter separately, but despite her confident on-campus appearance, she clung to me like a baby koala. Maybe that’s why Skip is so fond of her.
As pissed as she looks, Kitty’s a drop dead bombshell in shorts she must have stolen from the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, and that damn split jersey tied in a knot under her boobs.
Even so, the skin-crawling itch demanding I run to her, resonates not from my need to get inside those glittery pants, but just to hold her.
“Wh … why are you here?” she splutters, finger aimed directly at the Professor who stills like prey would do in the sight of a T-Rex. “And why are you there?” That’s aimed at me. Before I can reply, she closes the distance between us and tugs me freefrom Plum. “Why is she here, Dad? Please tell me you didn’t invite her?”
“Quinn Josephine Harris!” Enter Quinn’s mom, who like her daughter, is an absolute rocket. Equally fiery too, it seems. “How dare you be so rude to our guest. Faith I do apologize. Please forgive our daughter’s rudeness. One too many celebratory drinks.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, I assure you. After all, I was late and on the arm of her boy?—”
“Boy am I sorry!” Quinn yells at the top of her lungs. Used to her oddities, her parents don’t flinch, but Plum almost hits the ceiling. “Like Mom said, a little too much drinky-drinky.” Laughing like a hyena, she tightens her grip on my arm and yanks me outside.
There’s no way she’s going to let this drop, but for now, she’s touching me, soothing the rawness I’ve felt all afternoon, and that’s exactly what I need.
My respite lasts all of five seconds.
“Why are you so late? And why didn’t you answer my calls? And why are you with her?”
With each question, her voice rises, the final so loud it draws the attention of every set of eyes here. The truth—I saw my loser parents and spent a manly afternoon crying in my room—burns like acid on my tongue, but I can’t tell her any of that because she, like everyone else here, believes my moms are my real family. No one, not even Noah who has known me since junior hockey, knows my secret.
No one ever will.
Squirming, and trying to come up with some fraction of the truth, I shift my eyes from her clenched fists and take in my surroundings.
Holy fucking Kitty Kat.
I knew Quinn was rich, but this is … really rich. From the outside you can tell the house is your typical white, pillared, cookie-cutter monstrosity, but now I can see just how huge a monstrosity it is. The yard, if you can call it that, is maybe two or three suburban blocks wide, and fully decked out with palm trees, a pool and pool house bigger than ten dorm rooms. It’s more luxury resort than family home, and holy pink shit, they have pet fucking flamingos.
“Holy shit, Kitty. You have fucking flamingos,” I say like twit. “You really are a princess.”
“I’m not a princess you idiot … I kind of wish I was, though. Your beheading would be much easier.” She drops my hand, then pushes me in the chest, then grabs me again, pulling me in and hugging me. It’s very confusing, but also kind of nice. She smells like cookies, rage and sin. My favorite combination. “Now stop stalling and tell me what happened.”
“Umm. Well. I wasn’t sure if I should come. I didn’t want to cause more trouble with your folks. It was stupid and cowardly and I’m sorry.”
Quinn relaxes her grip, holds me at arms length and takes me in with a worthy amount of skepticism. “And that’s the truth? There’s nothing else?”
“It is. And there’s not.” Cognizant that her rather large, rather terrifying father may be lurking behind me, I don’t kiss her like I want to, instead I press my lips to her soft cheek and inhale. She really does smell incredible. “Happy Birthday, Kitty.”
“Heads up!” The tender moment comes to a halt when the beach ball Cory spikes from his position beside the pool, sails around Quinn, smacking squarely into the side of my head. “Yazzzz!” he cheers. “You owe me twenty, Basse. Told you I could smash him from here.”
Chuckling, I raise my head. Kind of wish I didn’t. Brady, Noah and Shane are standing a foot away, arms crossed over puffed chests.
Shit.
