“I don’t want to go home, Quinn. This here, it’s perfect.”
I agree with her. The only thing missing is the sun, but it should be up soon. “Do you like it here? I mean in Los Angeles.”
She nods. “Yes, I do. It’s different from South Carolina. More relaxed, but hectic.”
“Traffic here is nuts. For a while, I lived in this little town called Beaumont. It’s where my uncle is from. My dad and I moved there when I was eight, but after high school, I came back here. My grandma and aunt and her husband live here, and it’s where I feel the most comfortable.”
“And your dad, does he live here?”
I nod. “An hour or so from here by car. He and my mom live on the beach. My sister lives in Malibu with her boyfriend and my other sister lives in Portland with her fiancé who’s also my best friend.”
Nola looks at me slowly. There’s a mask of confusion on her face, something I can’t quite put my finger on. “You only have two sisters?”
“Only?” I laugh. “They’re twins. Enough said.”
I look into her eyes, wondering what she’s thinking. Had she heard differently? I’m under the impression she doesn’t really know much about my family. However, her reaction to them seems odd.
“And the women I saw you with at the Bean Song?”
I scratch the back of my neck, wishing I had my beanie on. I think back to the first time I saw her and when she approached me. “That was one of my sisters and the other was Dana. She’s the lead singer of the band I’m in.”
“You’re in a band?”
Nodding, I sigh. “Yeah, I am. It’s a new, recent decision by me.” It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, and I’m not sure if I like the way it sounds yet or not.
“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” The look on her face is priceless. I wish I had my phone out, so I could capture this moment and maybe show it to her in a few months, if we’re still hanging out.
Wow, it’s hard for me to fathom what a few months from now will look like, but I very much like the idea that she’s in the picture.
“No, no girlfriend,” I tell her. “And in case you’re wondering, no ex-wives or children either… that I know of.”
“Good. That’s very good.”
My expectation is that she’d tell me the same, but she doesn’t. I don’t want to ask because maybe she’s more private than I am, but it makes me wonder. Does she have a boyfriend back home? No, I’m sure she doesn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t be here with me right now or dancing the way she was with that guy earlier.
Seeing her dance like that made me jealous, an emotion I’m really not used to. When I arrived at the club, I immediately went upstairs to the VIP area to get a better view. I couldn’t find her anywhere until I spotted her on the dance floor. I don’t know how long I watched her until I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought about leaving, and even made it to the door before I turned around. I’m t
hankful I did.
We’re both sitting here, with our legs drawn to our chests and our heads turned, looking at each other, while our arms are pressed against each other. No words pass between us, just gazes. I like that no words are filling the air, and yet I still feel like I’m getting to know her.
When the sun starts to rise, I take her hand in mine and walk us toward the surf. The wet sand is icy cold on our feet. She turns to seek solace, but I hold onto her and pull her toward the water, with her screaming, begging me to stop. When I look at her, her face says otherwise.
“Oh, my God, the water is so cold.”
“Probably to you, yes,” I tell her, looking down at the soaked hem of my jeans. “It’s about sixteen degrees colder than the Atlantic.” Against everything I’ve ever done, I pull her closer, bringing her into my arms. Logic says we should head back to the sand, but I don’t want to move. Standing here, with her in my arms while the sun is coming up, well, even I consider this romantic.
“Quinn,” she says my name softly as she looks up at me.
My fingers push her hair behind her ear before my thumb and forefinger gently grip her chin. Looking into her eyes, I lean forward, watching her for any hesitation before my eyes close and my lips press against hers.
20
Eleanora
Under the fading stars and rising sun, with waves lapping at our feet, Quinn James kissed me. I didn’t expect it, yet I had a feeling it was going to happen as soon as he gently put my hair behind my ear and his fingers trailed over my cheek before reaching for my chin and tipping my head back ever so slightly. Never in my life, had a kiss affected me in ways you only read about in romance novels or see play out on a movie screen.
Sure, only one other guy had kissed me, but this one was different. This was a toe-curling, spine-tingling, rise up on your tippy toes so you can get closer type kiss. But, it was the man behind the kiss that made the difference. Quinn James undoubtedly could have any woman he wants, and he was there, on the beach, with me.