Quinn tasted like heaven – a strawberry kiss with just a hint of intoxication. She breathed in, the shock registering in a soft gasp. The sound ignited me further, and I raised a hand to tangle in the back of her hair. With her head cradled in my hand, I bent her farther back and devoured her sweet lips.
She stumbled back a step and her arms locked around my neck for support. I stood up, bringing her up on her tip toes and against my body. Quinn fit every contour, yet she was not close enough. I needed more of her along every inch of me.
She leaned into me, her lips parting, and her tongue running along my lower lip. I growled under my breath, losing control. Our tongues tangled, the delicious friction driving me farther from rational thought.
"Quinn? What the hell are you doing?" Trent asked.
I felt him put a hand on my shoulder and try to pry us apart. She broke the kiss, but her chocolate eyes stayed riveted to mine.
"She's doing whatever the hell she wants. What's it to you, Q-Tip?" I asked.
Trent's face turned a ruddy red. "That's my girlfriend," he snarled.
"You've got to be kidding me," Quinn said. She pushed between us and jabbed Trent in the chest. "Don't you remember when I caught you having sex with John and we broke up? It really wasn't that long ago."
The bar crowd was very interested and suddenly, Trent was getting all the jeers instead of me. He looked shocked, as if he had never been without the support and positive attention of an entire room.
"He cheated on you with another man?" I said at high volume.
Trent stepped back. "Come on, Quinn. We can work this out. I love you."
"Liar," Quinn said. She tossed her hair and my heart soared. "I just texted you with that same exact suggestion and you didn't even stop dancing to respond."
The crowd had definitely turned on Trent. Quinn stood with her hands on her hips. If my clenched fist and the combined disapproval of the other drinkers were not enough, the look on her face was enough to make him turn tail and run.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Quinn
It was impossible to concentrate in class. The lecturer was doing her best with slides and models and some of the most graphic photographs any of us had seen. It did not matter. All I could think about was Owen.
The kiss had been like honey – slow, sweet, and it had clung to my lips long after Trent interrupted us. Owen had laughed all the way home about the look on Trent's face. I wanted to revel in it too, but I could still taste Owen on my lips. How could he kiss me like that and then pretend it was nothing?
The lecturer started on a new procedure and I tried to take notes on the research. Three bullet points and my mind was off on another daydream. I kept dreaming up scenarios in which Owen and I would have to kiss again. Maybe he was being pursued by some video game groupie and he wanted to put her off nicely. Or I was being flirted with by some wildly inappropriate man and Owen took my safety into his own hands.
No matter what scheme I created, I knew deep down that might have been the last kiss I ever shared with Owen.
"How was class?" Darla asked when I returned to our dorm room. She sat cross-legged on my bed with a still-steaming cup of coffee.
"I have no idea," I said. "Thanks for the coffee. What's the occasion?"
"Well, for one, I'm glad you are back," Darla said. She moved over and made room for me to sit down. "And secondly, it’s been too long since we had a little gossip session."
My heart tripped. I loved gossip, but there had been too much about me lately. It was still hard to walk around campus without people offering condolences or whispering about Sienna behind my back. Plus, Trent had been seen all over campus making out with various men and our break-up was public news.
I sipped my coffee. "I heard some students might protest tomorrow. A sit-in outside the admin office."
Darla shook her head. "Want to know what I heard?" she asked.
"I have a feeling I don't want to know at all."
"Too bad because what I heard is just way too delicious not to talk about. I mean, you can trust me, we'll gossip about it, but nothing will leave this room," Darla said.
"Oh, God, it must be worse than I thought. What did Trent do now?"
"Trent? You mean besides mope, weep, and have jealous fits all over campus?" Darla took a quick sip of her coffee but could not be coy for more than four seconds. "Alright, so Trent told everyone he caught you making out with some stud in Vegas. I asked him about it and turns out I've met the guy. Haven't I?"
"No," I said.
Darla slapped my shoulder. "No way. You are a terrible liar, Quinn. You kissed Owen, didn't you?"
"No. He kissed me," I said. "And it was only to make Trent jealous. He was just being a good friend."
"Well, I have it on good authority that it was a hot and heavy make-everyone-in-the-bar-jealous kind of a kiss," Darla said.
"That's good, right?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a better direction. "And it sounds like it worked. So, Trent is really jealous?"
"Oh, who cares about him?" Darla asked. "Tell me more about Owen! I know you've been not so secretly in love with him forever. Bet that kiss made it feel more than reciprocated, am I right?"
My shoulders slumped. "I have no idea. Owen never said anything afterwards."
"And what about you?"
"What do you think?"
Darla sighed. "That you melt at the thought of it and think about it all the time. I know I would."
"Oh my God, Darla. What am I going to do?"
"Answer your phone, that's for sure," she said. Darla handed me my phone.
It was Owen.
"Hello?" I asked.
"Quinn, I'm glad I caught you. Please don't tell me you have to study this weekend. There's a great tournament in Vegas. Low-key, just gathering players for the bigger events, but I want you to come with me. You'll have a really good time, I promise," Owen said.
"Whoa, wait, slow down. You want me to join you in Vegas this weekend?" I tried to grab Darla's hand, but she had already stood up. She went to my closet, pulled out my small suitcase, and started packing. "For a video game tournament?"
"Honey, who cares if he wants you to dress up as a blue alien? You're going," Darla whispered.
"I told you I think you have potential as a player. And you said it yourself, you love playing. Come on, Quinn. Live a little," Owen said.
"You know I should be studying. I have hundreds of assignments to catch up on," I said.
"Come with me, Quinn. Don't make me beg. We'll have fun. Unless you're scared of a little fun?"
I stood up. "I am not scared of fun. I am fun."
"Live a little. I dare you," Owen said.
I could hear his smile and it was infuriating at the same time as sparks sizzled in my stomach. "Fine. You're on. I'll call when I'm close."
I hung up the phone, and Darla squealed so loud I had to clap my hands over my ears. "That's my girl! Oh, Quinn, thank God! This is just what you need."
"Did that really just happen?" I asked. My phone rang again and I was sure it was Owen calling back to tell me he'd called the wrong girl. "Oh, great, it’s my father."