Neanderthal Seeks Human(66)

I pushed my glasses further up my nose, purposefully wearing them instead of contacts, and turned to gather my sweater and my bag; the bag contained two fresh apples and the last of the summer peaches I could find at the market. Elizabeth fretted and twisted her hands, stopping me on my way to the door, “Oh, you should wear something else. You’re so beautiful; I want to have sex with you. He’s going to jump you in the car!”

I laughed as she pulled me in for a hug, “Oh pa-shaw!”

“Seriously, Janie-” she held me by the shoulders, “if this whole Wendell McHotpants situation has taught you anything it should be to embrace the fact that you are a total hottie and lots of people want to get in your underpants.”

I smacked her hands away and started for the door, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Me? Oh, I’m going to the gym then I have to go into work to do some charting.” She stretched and yawned. I knew she was on less than six hours of sleep; even so she’d insisted on waking up an hour before it was necessary so she could listen to the story about the Jon and Quinn dinner and the lets be friends discussion.

She said she was impressed with how I’d handled the situation and congratulated me for being courageous and honest even though I think she secretly wanted me to give into the temptation to become a short-term slamp to Quinn’s Wendell. She further pointed out that Quinn hadn’t agreed to the friend label.

She pointed it out several times.

But I had to cling to the label because, without it, I felt adrift on a boundless sea of unknowns. So, I bounced down the stairs, feeling excited about seeing my new friend Quinn. Yeah. That was it. My friend. Just my friend.

I exited the building and found him standing on the sidewalk, at the base of my steps. He was leaning against the bottom of the cement stair rail, presumably scanning messages on his cell phone. He was crazy handsome and I quietly sighed. Those were some lucky slamps. I put on my sunglasses.

The sun was brilliant and blinding; it was a perfect September day, maybe one of the last mild days before the beginning of October. He must have heard the door close behind me as he abruptly looked up from his phone to my position at the top of the stairs. He straightened and stood perfectly still.

I dug through my bag as I descended, “I know you said not to bring anything but I picked up some apples and peaches from the Sunday market.” I held out an apple to him, as proof, then tucked it back in my market bag.

He sighed, it sounded pained; “You’re not being very nice.” His voice was low and gravelly.

I scrunched up my face in response, “Oh come on. I can bring fruit. I’m allowed to bring fruit.” I poked him and he grabbed my hand.

“I’m not talking about the peaches.”

“You don’t like apples? You should. In 2010 they decoded its genome which led to new understandings of disease control and selective breeding in apple production. It really has wider ramifications to all-”

He stopped my mouth with a soft kiss, his hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me to him. I had the distinct impression I was being tasted in much the same way one would savor a peach. My traitor body immediately responded, again arching and pressing into his, and I kissed him back, tasting him in return. It was not a friend kiss; at least I’d never kissed a friend like that.

Quinn broke the kiss; rested his forehead against mine, and whispered, “Hi.”

I blinked up at him, my heart and my mind competing in an uphill foot-race, and managed a small, “Hi.” in return.

“I changed my mind about kissing you.”

“Well,” I licked my lips, a warm humming sensation was reverberating in my chest, “You did warn me.”



~*~



I didn’t have much to say in the car but found myself frequently tugging at my bottom lip. Quinn was driving; it was another of the black Mercedes and I wondered if it were a company car. The thought troubled me- that he would be using company property for our date.

Or non-date. Or Wendell-slampcapade. Whatever.

I allowed myself to worry about the use of the car as it gave me something on which to focus. He didn’t force any attempt at conversation, seemingly content to drive in silence. And, as confusing as it was, the silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It just was.

When we made it to the vicinity of the park he surprised me by parking in one of the sky-rise private lots. We pulled into the basement and to a numbered space. I shifted in my seat as he cut off the engine and glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

“Are we- do you live here?”

He quickly exited the car, rounding to my side. Before I could pull the latch Quinn opened my door in an unexpected, but not surprising, display of good manners. He reached out his hand to help me from the vehicle then didn’t return it. Rather, he laced his fingers through mine and tugged me toward the elevator. At this point I realized that I’d become rather accustom to the feel of his hand holding mine.