Neanderthal Seeks Human(97)

“A chance?”

“Yes, a chance.”

“What- what kind of chance?” My words were a little shaky as his expression remained inscrutable; but his eyes... his eyes were dark, purposeful, almost menacing in their glittering intensity.

Freaking smoldering eyes. Smash, smash, smash.

“A chance to prove themselves, to defy shortcuts and preconceived expectations, preferences… labels.”

I pressed my lips together. It was one of those questions you can’t answer correctly, like: When did you stop beating your wife? Did I believe everyone deserved a chance? Yes. But he knew that. I started to breathe in through my nose but stopped when I smelled him, whiskey and aftershave and Quinn.

He smelled great. Smash, smash, smash.

In a moment of weakness, likely caused by my smelling him, my voice was quiet, laced with a note of resignation, “Yes. Everyone deserves a chance.”

He gave me one of his barely there smiles, just a hint of a smile, and licked his lips, “Then I want my chance.”

“And how do you propose I give aforementioned shhh-ance-” I swallowed in order to correct my slur, “chance… to… you? What vehicle will you use for the chance?”

We’d said the word ‘chance’ so much it was starting to sound distorted and funny: chance, chance, chance, chance, shance, shance, shanz, shanz… shnaz

Without preamble he said, “I want to date you. I want us to spend time together like we did before I had to go to Boston last week. And, if I have to travel, I want you to answer the cell phone when I call because I want to hear your voice.”

With every syllable that left his mouth I felt my button being pushed again and again and the resulting crimson blush was truly massive. I cleared my throat and tried to say, “Oh, is that all-”

“No.” He shook his head, interrupting me, “That’s not all. I want to touch you and kiss you, frequently, and I want you-” he shifted on his feet as though steadying himself then his hand reached out; he stepped closer and he cupped my cheek in his palm, “I want you to touch me.”

Gah! His words!! Smash, Smash, SMAAAAAASH!!

“And…” he paused, his fingers threading through the hair above my temple and beneath the hat covering my head. He pushed it off and we both let it fall to the floor, “I want to play strip poker, with you, right now.”

I was careful to take my next breath through my mouth. I didn’t want Quinn-sniff to influence my already wino impaired brain function. A little voice in the back of my head said: don’t trust him! You’re not special! You’re weird and awkward and a big-headed Neanderthal freak with Medusa hair!!! He’s confused you with someone else!!!!

Almost immediately I told that voice to go eat shit and die.

I wanted to believe him.

Therefore, I did believe him.

My palms lay flat against the wall behind me and I slanted my chin upward so I could really look at him. His expression straddled between guarded and hopeful. I recognized it so acutely because it was how I’d been feeling since we met.

I cleared my throat and took another steadying breath, through my mouth, releasing it slowly before asking, “What if I said no?”

Quinn became very still. Finally he asked, his tone felt just a wee bit dangerous, “Are you saying no?”

I shook my head, “No- I mean, I’m not saying no. I just want to know what happens if I say no.”

He paused again, staring at me as though the answer to my question was written on my face. He no longer looked hopeful, he just looked guarded. Silence stretched for almost a full minute and we stood there, watching each other. Then he blinked suddenly and an expression resembling dawning comprehension made his eyes flash.

“Janie,” Quinn shifted away, his hand fell from my hair, his countenance darkened. “You’re not going to lose your job.”

I twisted my mouth to the side and made sloppy work of crossing my arms over my chest, “You won’t be upset?”

“Yes, I’ll be ups-” He cleared his throat, looked away briefly, then met my gaze again, “I’ll be disappointed.” He said the word disappointed very carefully, measured- like it was meant to be four words in one. “But, I’m not going to disadvantage my company because you don’t…” he lifted his hands between us then rested them on his hips, “Because you’re not interested.”

I surveyed him for a moment then asked, “Would it be the same job, that I have now? Or would it be something else?”

His jaw ticked. “The same job.”

I nodded absentmindedly. Even though he was looking increasingly reserved and upset, I found my nerves had calmed significantly.