Page 26 of Topping the Jock
I still did.
I cleared my throat. “What did you wanna talk about?”
“About what happened at lunch.”
“I knew you’d come crawling back to me,” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest. “What would you do without all my late-night memes?”
“Probably get more sleep,” he responded with a trace of a smile on his lips.
“Eh, you’ll sleep when you’re dead.”
He took another step forward, and my skin tingled. It was getting harder to control myself when around him. I felt like one of those science fair volcano projects, pressure building inside me, little by little.
What would happen when I finally erupted?
“So, if it’s not to beg me to keep messaging you, what is it?” I asked, doing my best to keep a light tone. “You want my chicken recipe, don’t you?”
“Look, Montgomery, I won’t pretend to know what’s happening between us,” Quinn said, the smile vanishing as his voice took on a serious edge. “I tell myself I hate you. Sometimes, I even believe that I do.” One more step toward me. “But then we started talking, and I realized you aren’t the guy I thought you were. I try to avoid you, to stay mad, but you’re making it hard for me.”
“I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
“Because you bullied me!” Quinn strode forward until his chest was nearly touching mine. Him being shorter had no bearing on his confidence as he backed me up against the locker. “I should hate your guts, but instead, I smile at your stupid-ass messages and even look forward to them. I hate it. I don’twantto like you.” He growled on the last word and slapped a hand beside my head, the sound echoing throughout the room.
Fuck. His aggression was hot. Leave it to my dick to betray me in situations that were supposed to be serious.
“I’m sorry for bullying you in the past. I don’t know how many more times I can say it before you’ll believe me.” My voice came out raspy and rough, filled with both remorse and desire. Surely, I wasn’t the only one who felt the intense sexual tension between us. “I’m trying to make up for it. I really am.”
“Why did you do it?” Quinn asked, his eyes glistening and his hand squeezing into a fist at his side. He looked more pissed than sad. This was a long time coming. We needed to get everything out into the open now. No more skirting around it. “Out of all the kids you could bully… why me, Monty?”
My sternum ached at the raw sound of his voice. “Because I liked you.”
Whatever answer he’d expected, that clearly wasn’t it.
Quinn blinked in surprise. “What?”
“I liked you,” I repeated, then let it all spill out in a rush. “The first time I realized I was crushing on you was in seventh grade when the teacher called on you in class. You fumbled over your answer, embarrassed because the whole class was lookin’ at you. When you got it right, though, you smiled a dorky smile and looked so pleased with yourself. I liked your smile. My heart beat faster, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Quinn’s expression grew more and more confused as I spoke. I could practically see his head spinning.
I continued. “But boys weren’t supposed to like boys, or so I thought back then. So, I started picking on you. I never actually wanted to hurt you. I just wanted… I don’t know. To be around you. To have you notice me. It was stupid, I know, but the longer it went on, the harder it was to stop. Then, you hated me, and I—”
“Shut up for a second so I can think,” Quinn interjected, pulling away from me and putting a hand to his head, closing his eyes. Then, he was back on me, his face inches from mine. “All that time… you bullied me because youlikedme?”
I nodded.
“That was a pretty fucked-up way to show it,” he snapped.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Silence settled between us, as did a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The whole time, Quinn’s eyes never left my face. Mine didn’t leave his either.
“I never knew,” he finally said, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. He looked so lost. As if his world had just been turned on its axis. “I thought you hated me.”
“I never hated you, Specks,” I said, using the nickname I’d given him so long ago. Hopefully he heard the softness in my voice and knew I didn’t mean it in a degrading way. I fought the urge to caress his cheek. He was standing so damn close, but not close enough. “I had such a huge crush on you, even when you were small, dorky, and wearing glasses too big for your face. You were quiet, awkward, and the cutest boy I’d ever seen.”
Quinn’s mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but then it closed. Having the guy who bullied you in high school confess he’d done it because he secretly liked you would throw anyone for a loop.
“You’re such an asshole,” Quinn said, his body trembling.
