A few beats later her magical fingers are making that rundown guitar her bitch. The sounds she can pull from that beat-up old thing is beyond me, but that’s Quinn. The girl is pure magic. Her soft, raspy voice fills the room as she plays an old Fleetwood Mac song, her version of “Landslide” causing honest to God goosebumps to form across my cool skin under my hoodie.
When she’s finished, she hands me the guitar, and as I place it back in its spot next to my bed, she slides down next to me, staring up at the ceiling, her right hand slipping into my left one.
“You can’t keep letting him get away with this, Quinn. You deserve so much better.”
“Clearly, I don’t. This is my life, Logan.” She turns her head to look at me, the brightness and size of her dark, blue eyes not outshined by the gnarly purple bruise encompassing her right one. “Besides, he’s not that bad.”
“Tell that to your fucking face.” The word “fuck” doesn’t bother Quinn. We aren’t typical adolescents. Our middle school has armed guards and metal detectors. We’ve witnessed drive-by shootings and police chases in our backyards, prostitutes in the hallways sucking dick for money as we walk to our apartments after school. A little “bad” language is nothing new to either of us.
“I’m serious, Logan. So, he gets a little pissy on Friday nights after losing money at the casino. This one actually has a job rather than collecting the government check. I share a room with only two other girls.” She shifts uncomfortably next to me. “And other than a couple of beatings, he pretty much keeps his hands to himself.”
I roll to my side, propping my head up on my elbow. “A little pissy? Quinn, your face is battered all to hell.”
She rolls to her side, unbothered. “Bull, I’m perfect.”
I smile, tucking a long strand of her straw-colored hair back into her hoodie. She really is. “True, but you need to tell someone so it doesn’t happen again.”
She snorts. “What world do you live in? Who exactly am I going to tell, Wally?” I don’t even blink at her outdated Leave it to Beaver reference. There weren’t a ton of television channels available to us over the years. No one we know can afford anything but basic cable or an antenna. “The cops who hate my ass and would love nothing better than to send me to juvie because they’re convinced I’ll end up like my mom? Or the social workers who I have done nothing but give extra work to since I was two?”
“Some of the social workers aren’t so bad.”
She tilts her head in astonishment. “Logan. No. Besides I could end up somewhere way worse than this one. No. Way.”
I lay my head back down flat on the pillow in a huff. “Fuck, Quinn. I can’t stand to see you like this. What if it goes further next time?”
“It won’t.” I feel her shrug next to me even if I can’t actually see it. “Or it will. Fate, Logan. It’s a motherfucker.”
I scoff but can’t fight the laugh. I’ve never actually heard her say “motherfucker” before, and it sounded strange coming from her beautiful lips. “True.”
“Look at me.”
Her voice is low and raspy, and for whatever reason, it sends an inexplicable chill through my body, and it takes me a moment to actually turn my head to look at her. Her large, doe-eyes gaze into mine with something I’ve never seen before.
Vulnerability.
We never show it. Not even to each other. It’s too dangerous for kids like us to show weakness of any kind.
“Kiss me.”
It’s half command and half question, and I’m almost completely positive my eyeballs just leapt from their sockets in shock, leaving the rest of me completely immobile. “What? No.”
She doesn’t look surprised or hurt. She’s completely calm and unaffected. “Logan, don’t be a baby. We are best friends, right?”
“Right. That’s why there’s no way in hell I’m going to kiss you.”
She turns more to her side, allowing her to face me. “That’s why you have to kiss me.”
I shake my head like a psycho, still stunned by her request. Quinn is one of the guys. Granted, a smaller, feminine, pretty guy, but still. No matter what toll puberty has started to take on our bodies and unholy hormones, I can’t see her as anything other than that. It’s not right. “No fucking way. Drop it.”
Her face, which I realize has somehow overnight started to morph into high cheekbones, long eyelashes, and pouty, incredibly luscious full lips, moves near my own as a gulp catches in my throat. “I need this. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important to me.”
My words are caught in my throat for what seems like an eternity before I finally croak out a lame, “Why?”
She’s deadly serious, her voice quiet, yet still confident. “I have five years left in foster care. Five. I’m not stupid, I know this isn’t the last home I’ll be in, not by a longshot.” She shakes her head, seemingly brushing off a chilling thought, her eyes locking on mine. “I just want to make certain that I have control over whose lips touch mine first.”
I swallow hard as I stare at her, knowing what she means, and it sends fury through my body. “If anyone ever puts their lips or anything else on you without you wanting it, I’ll kill the motherfucker.” I’ve never meant any words more than I mean these.
Her hand brushes my cheek, the contact sparking something deep inside me. “I know. Just do this for me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Do this for me.”
I can’t believe I’m even considering this. I’ve never kissed a girl. I’ve never wanted to, but . . . Shit. No. I can’t do this. “Quinn.”
“Don’t make me ask Rhys. Who knows where that asshat has been, and Sean is too sweet.”
My blood boils at the thought and my hand lands on her hip, pulling her closer to me. “Don’t you fucking dare.” It’s an intense growl that comes deep from my chest. I’ve never felt so possessive over anything in my life.
“Then toughen up, Buttercup, and kiss me.” My eyes search hers, and I know she’s serious. I give in, starting to lean in, but her small hand pushes my chest back. I start to panic, thinking maybe she was just messing with me. “Wait. You haven’t kissed someone yet and just not told me, right?”
“What? No.” I tell Quinn everything.
“Okay, good. If I kiss you, I’ll be kissing everyone you have, or so they say. And I just wanted to know what kind of nasty skank I’d be kissing.”
“You’re kinda messing with the mood, Quinn.”
She rights her shoulders and nods her head. “Right. Sorry. Kiss me.” She looks right into my eyes, focused and determined.
This is my best friend. The girl I’ve known practically my whole life. Those eyes. I know those eyes better than anyone’s. Solid blue. No flecks of any other color in them. Dark and stormy, beautiful eyes. “Fuck.” I run a hand over my face in frustration. “Close your eyes.”
“What?” She looks at me like I’m completely ridiculous, which, I admit, I am.
“Just do it.”