And I think I even know why.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Quinn spits at me, before shoving me aside and storming past me into my apartment.
“Oh, please won’t you come inside, Quinn?” I grumble, tearing my boxing gloves off and watching her as she starts digging through my kitchen draws. I’m still partially curious, that is until she shoots me another furious look before she storms over and starts digging around underneath my mattress.
Oh, now I know what she’s looking for.
“Where is it!” She snaps, seeing the grin on my face as I grab a towel off the hook by the door and wipe the sweat from my face.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Qui-”
“You kept my vibrator, you asshole!”
I can’t help it then, and my grin just breaks into a full-on laugh. I mean honestly, how many times in life do you actually get a chance to hear someone say that to you?
“Oh, you noticed that, huh?”
It’s been three days since I was at her place, and the temptation to pocket that little toys of hers I found in the bathroom was just too good to pass up, even if only just to mess with her.
Quinn’s face is bright red as she fumes at my grin; “What?! No! Not funny, not cute, Logan!”
“So you did notice it was gone then?”
“Wh-” She stammers; “Yes, Logan, I noticed it was gone and that you stole it.”
I nod, trying but failing to keep my face neutral; “So I guess that means you were actively looking for it, for - oh, some reason, when you noticed it was-”
“Oh shut up.”
Ok, so even though it’s a lot of fun to mess with Quinn and get under her skin like this - not to mention how easy it is - there is part of me that wonders why the fuck I’m still doing it. I mean she’s great, really. Actually she’s amazing, if I can get my head out of my own ass enough to just admit that. And it’s thoughts like those that have me wondering why I’m still just being such a massive dick to her. She might actually just like me, if I wasn’t trying so hard to sabotage the whole thing. And for what? Why, so she doesn’t get close? Because she’s “off limits”? No, fuck that; Hudson broke those rules first and that seems to be working out dandy for just about everyone involved.
“Logan!”
“Oh fine.”
“Where-”
I nod towards the kitchen; “Refrigerator, salad crisper.”
Quinn wrinkles her brow at me; “Eew?”
“Just wanted to keep it fresh for you!” I call out as she stomps towards the kitchen; “Oh hey, there’s also a cucumber or two in there too if you’re feeling extra frisky tonight, darlin.”
She makes a face as she turns back from the fridge, shoving the toy into her jeans pocket; “Why are you always so gross?”
The question actually catches me off guard, because honestly, I don’t know. And this brings me back to the whole “why the fuck am I acting like this” thing from before. It’s like just being around this girl has me acting like some sort of juvenile asshole full of crude comments and pulling dumb shit like the vibrator in the refrigerator thing. It’s barely a single level above pulling her hair on the playground or calling her names on the school-bus. I’m even betting that if I just got my shit together and started talking to her like a normal fucking person, we might even be able to get along.
Except there’s something about Quinn Archer that makes it impossible for me to act anything remotely close to normal.
And the real question here is, why can’t I act normal around her? If that one night from before was just this one time thing, and we as adults can both agree that it was a mistake and just move on from it, then why the fuck can’t I do just that?
Quinn slams the fridge shut and marches towards me and the door, but I stick my arm out across the doorframe, blocking her.
“Jesus, Logan-” She cocks her head at me; “Does this shit ever work for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this whole ‘asshole with a chip on his shoulder’ acting like a child stunt. Does this actually get you laid?”
I grin widely at her before I blow her an air kiss; “Apparently?”
Her face goes bright red again, and her mouth does that little adorable thing it does when she purses it shut extra tight, as if trying to keep in whatever she’s tempted to say; “That was-” She trails off and looks down at the floor.
“Fantastic? Life-altering? The best lay you’ve ever had?” I smirk at her, seeing her cheeks get even redder as she shakes her head.
And here I go, right back into the swing of being that sophomoric douche with the crude comments and the incessant need to pull this girl’s hair at recess, as if it’s the only way I can get her to keep paying attention to me.