Knitting in the City 01 Neanderthal Seeks Human (40 page)

I held certain truths to be self-evident, truths about myself and people and the world and how everything fit together, and those were changing.

Everything was changing rather fast.

Everything.

The only thing that was constant was the change.

His hands moved down my arms and he tugged me toward him, away from the desk. I allowed him to pull me to his chest as he swept the drape of hair from my face. He tilted my chin upwards and kissed me softly on the mouth.

He didn’t release me, his long fingers now under my chin, but did shift his head far enough away so that his forehead and nose were in focus. Quinn’s eyes moved between mine; I was once again struck by how blue they were and I lost some of my breath when I endeavored to exhale.

He frowned, “You still want to go
to your knitting group tonight?”

I nodded.

His gaze moved over my features as though looking for the veracity of my head-bob answer.

“You could always skip this week and spend some t
ime with that guy you’re dating.” His hands moved to my waist, ostensibly to keep me in place.

I swallowed and pressed my lips into a smile. “That is very tempting.”

His mouth hooked to the side; he looked just hopeful; it was another expression when, by itself, felt all kinds of strange on his typically reserved features, “We could go out to a movie.”

I wan
ted- no, needed- to keep my knitting group commitment. It suddenly felt really important.             

“It
’s my night to bring the wine. If I don’t go they’ll start prank calling senior citizens then blame me for the ensuing arrests.”

The truth was I needed time to figure
this
out. I was, I believed prematurely, very attached to Quinn. Forming an attachment to someone typically took me years. I’d known him less than six weeks and already felt more and thought more- about him, for him- than I’d ever felt for Jon.

For the love of Thor,
I was missing him even when we were in the same room together. The force of the feelings and the virtually all-consuming nature of them made me want to hide under my desk until my brain and my heart and my vagina came to a consensus.

Therefore, I pushed him away
, albeit gently, and insisted on meeting my friends.

His expression morphed into one that was familiar
, taciturn. I noticed that Quinn’s jaw ticked and his mouth curved downward.

He sighed. It sounded pained.

“Janie I thought that- after-“ Quinn licked his lips, released my waist, and stepped away. His arms crossed over his chest, his feet braced apart as though posturing himself. “What is it?” His tone was chipped.

I swallowed before answering, “What is what?”

The predatory look returned; what felt like hostility reticulated through his glare, “We just-” his voice started to rise and I watched as he swallowed with difficulty, glanced to the side, sighed again, “You want to go spend time with your knitting group, tonight, after what just happened? After what happened last night?”

I started to worry my lip, my eyes were wide, “…Yes?”

“Yes?” His eyebrows rose expectantly, “Is that a question?”

“… No?”

Quinn’s eyebrows pulled into a sharp V. “Are we on the same page here at all?”

“I don’t know what to say.” I hugged myself, gritting my teeth.

We stared at each other, the moment was protracted, stiff like a heavily starched shirt. His gaze- weary, accusatory, but searching- made me feel like I was an imbecile. Maybe I was.

In fact, I knew I was.

I had the opportunity to spend the evening with Quinn- who I really, really, really liked in every way- and I was passing it up because I was scared.

Yes, scared.

Fe, fi, fo, fum, scared.

Unable to hold his penetrating glare, I let out a slow breath, closed my eyes, and turned away from
him, just my face, and shook my head.

“I don’t know what to say.” I repeated, my voice sounding strangely lost to my own ears.

I felt, rather than saw, him shift closer. “If you’re not interested in me- that way, as something permanent- then you need to tell me now.”

My half laugh was involuntary, immediate, as were my words, “God, Quinn
, you have no idea how permanent I’d like this to be. I’d like us to be twinkies and cockroaches, death and taxes. But I-”  

His hands were on me again, on my waist, slipping around to my back, pressing me to his chest, pulling me into an embrace. I automatically gabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clung to him.

“Then stay with me tonight.” His words were warm against my ear, the earlier saturation of irritation absent. He sounded almost relieved.

“I just need-” My breath was ragged
; I’d journeyed into uncharted waters and my unintentional confession didn’t calm my unease, but it didn’t exacerbate it either.

I was in emotional limbo.

I rested my head against his shoulder and breathed him; he was so warm, like a furnace; I closed my eyes.

Finally I said the only thing that made sense, made easier by the anonymity of darkness
behind my closed eyelids; “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m afraid. I’m not used to it.”

I felt him smile against my neck where he’d dipped his head, his lips brushed against my shoulder. He pulled away, slowly, with obvious reluctance.

One of his big palms caressed my check; his fingers pulled through my hair and forced my head back.

“Look at me.”

I took a deep breath then opened my eyes.

Most
of his earlier frustration was absent and the way he looked at me made me feel uncomfortably, but deliciously, aware that we were pressed together from the waist down.

“We’ll go out tomorrow
night?” He kept his thumb on my face, rubbing it slowly over my cheekbone in trance-inducing circles.

I nodded.

“And you’ll spend the entire evening with me?” Quinn’s chin dipped to his chest so that he was peering at me through his eyebrows, “No feminist comic book organizing? No wine club knitting?”

“It’s knitting group wine drinking, but- yes. I will spend the entire evening with you.” My chin wobbled just a little, making my voice shaky and raw.

He may have detected the flimsiness of my emotional limbo because he smiled at me in a way that relieved the pressure of his earlier frustration and began calming the muddled upheaval.

“Ok.” His fingers dropped from my hair and he leisurely gained a step backward, his hands stuffing into his pants pockets like they needed to be restrained. The smile grew somewhat wistful as his eyes moved over my face. “I can wait.”

It was Marie’s turn to host knit night; Quinn asserted that he would drive me to my knitting group leaving no room for discussion. He walked me to the door of Marie’s apartment building, and kissed me goodbye. It was a devastating kiss and, when he left, I felt part of me leave with him.

Needless to say i
t was a disconcerting sensation.

He also insisted
, before he left, that I promise to call him while I sorted through my comic books later that night; he claimed to be interested in learning all about how second wave feminism influenced comic books of the late twentieth century.

Somehow I found the assertion dubious.

Elizabeth met me at the door and I floated through Marie’s well decorated apartment without really seeing anything or noticing anyone. Had I been more self-aware I might have detected the stares following my entrance and the quizzical glances exchanged.

My mind was engaged in wanderlust
, and not the German predilection for wandering; rather, my mind was lustfully wandering. I pressed my fingers to my lips and recalled how Quinn had lifted me, like I weighed nothing, to the desk; his hot fingers under my skirt, above the lace of my stockings, and-

“Janie?”

I blinked several times in machine gun rapidity, pulled out of my trance, and focused on the person standing directly in front of me, staring at me with what appeared to be mild concern.

It was
Ashley.

“I- yes?”

“Honestly, girl- where did your mind just go and do you need a traveling companion?” Ashley’s Tennessee twang was hushed, “Are you ok?”

“I-” I continued to blink at her, seeing the room
and its inhabitants for the first time. They were all watching me with open concern and curiosity; the only sound breaking the silence was Sandra munching on potato chips.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed, “were you talking to me?”

Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, her eyes wide and watchful, as she patted the seat next to her, “I asked if you wanted to sit down but you just- you just stood there…”

“Oh! Yes. Yes, sure.” I ducked my head and moved to claim the seat beside her, letting my purse drop from my shoulder to my feet.

“Where is your travel bag? Did you drop it off at the apartment already?” Elizabeth eyed me suspiciously but her tone was light, conversational.

“Oh- no. Not yet. I went to the office after I landed.”

Marie handed me a plate with potato chips and onion dip and shared a look with Fiona over my head, “How was your trip?”

“It was…” I blushed uncontrollably
; a giant grin mounted a hostile takeover of my face; I tucked my chin to my chest. I allowed my hair to fall forward and shield my expression.

There was a sharp intake of breath then, “
You didn’t! Oh my God!” Elizabeth’s voice sounded to my right.

“Wait- what? What happened?”
Ashley’s voice sounded from my left.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the room erupted in voices, I felt Elizabeth bouncing up and down on the couch next to me,
my potato chips spilled all over the place; she was chanting:

“You did it! You did it!”

“What? What did she do?” Kat’s quiet but curious words cut through the noise.

“She had hot monkey sex with McHotpants!”
Reverberations from Elizabeth’s bouncing almost made me topple off the sofa on to the floor, I abandoned the paper plate to my lap and gripped the cushion on either side of me, which proved to be a very good thing when I was, a moment later, tackled by a bear hug.

“Praise the Lord!” Sandra had me in a death squeeze, one of her legs was over my lap
; a split second later greasy potato chip fingers were on my cheeks and she lifted my face to hers; her Texas drawl even more pronounced than usual, “When Elizabeth told us you were giving him the cold shoulder I was terribly afraid I’d never be able to live vicariously through your sexcapades.” She gave me a sudden, fast, closed mouth kiss then held my head to her breast as one would do with a child, “If you didn’t climb that man like a tree I was going to have to get all lumberjack on his ass.”

At this point I was laughing and, admittedly, snorted.

“What does that even mean?” Marie, also laughing, was trying to detangle Sandra from my limbs, “And give the poor girl some space so she can tell us everything, and I do mean everything.” Marie succeeded in pulling Sandra off me and began gathering the littered chips. I tried to help.

Elizabeth
squeeeeeed
again and shifted on the couch so that she was facing me; she hugged a pillow to her chest, her eyes lit with excited merriment, “Start from the beginning, leave nothing out, tell us exactly what happened.”

“And make sure to describe the size of everything in inches
, I can’t do the metric conversion in my head.” Ashley added, leaning back and sipping her red wine.

I covered my face with my hands and shook my head, “Gah! I don’t even know where to start!”

“Start with the taking off of the clothes!” Kat’s suggestion made me burn a brighter shade of red.

“You don’t understand
, a lot has happened.” I sighed, my hands dropped to my skirt and I picked at the hem, “I found out that Quinn is not- well he is my- and then there is Jon and my sister and then Kat- and the reason I was laid off-”

“Give her a minute!” Fiona scolded the group, then added, “Let her gather her thoughts otherwise she might leave out the best parts.”

~*~

I tried to tell them what happened but I was a woefully inadequate story teller.

I managed to relay the facts: the real reason I was laid off from my last job; the confrontation with Jon regarding his involvement in the aforementioned job loss; Jon sleeping with Jem; Quinn knowing about why I was fired; Quinn turning out to be my boss’ boss, this drew a lot of shocked and bewildered expressions; the meeting in Vegas; Quinn’s explanation about his disappearance and sudden trip to Boston; Quinn’s previous acquaintance with Jem, although I may have glossed over his criminal past; and, finally, Quinn’s assertion that he wanted to
date
me along with the proceeding game of strip poker.