QUINN

My welcome mat is kind of ugly. I've been staring at it for the past twenty minutes, and I don't know why I haven't replaced it yet. It says 'WTF? R U Lost?'. That part still makes me giggle because, seriously, nobody ever comes to my house. But it's covered in dirt and dried up red sauce from that one time I ran into the door and dropped an entire box of pizza upside down.

I cried that day. For an hour. I really wanted that friggin pizza.

Who came up with the dumb idea of welcome mats being a good hiding spot? Because that person needs a brain transplant. I reach down and remove the spare key from underneath the mat for the tenth time. This is stupid.

Cash is coming by to replace the glass on my window tomorrow while I'm at school and I really don't want to leave the door unlocked. So, I got another key made. But I don't want him to have the key. This could easily turn into another situation where I'll have to change the locks.

But I need this window fixed. But he could kill me. But it's getting really hot outside and I need the window fixed. But there are no good hiding spots for the damn thing.

I haven't been avoiding Cash, per se. But ever since my panty hamster decided it wanted to take a spin on his exercise wheel, I've been actively trying to distract myself. It's nearly impossible when the army of dildos downstairs taunt me every time I come home, whispering sweet nothings as I pass by.

Why am I not petting the cat, you may ask? Because every time I try, thoughts of friggin Cash start creeping into my head and if I'm thinking about him whilst doing so, I'd never be able to look him in the face again. Or be around him without full-on assaulting him.

Okay, wow, how did I get to this point? I'm supposed to be focusing on hiding this damn key.

Giving up, I drop it in one of the six potted plants I have flanking my front door and send Cash a quick text to let him know where he can find it.

Quinn: Leaving a key in the plants

************

I'm completely concentrated in class, only jotting down every fifth word the professor says. It's a fun little game I like to play, hoping I'll get the information I need to ace upcoming tests. It hasn't let me down so far! Thank Jesus for that because I can't write as fast as the professor talks.

But my phone has been blowing up this morning, making it difficult to keep count. Setting my pencil down, I pull the demonic vibrating device from my bookbag and scroll through the list of notifications.

9:43

Bearaffe: you sure you put the key in one of the plants?

9:45

Bearaffe: Quinn, I can't find it.

9:52

Mama: Can wat to see u sundat

9:54

Bearaffe: I swear to god, Quinn, if you put it in the cactus...

Bearaffe: You did, didn't you?

Bearaffe: Never mind. Of course you did.

I frown at the texts, furiously typing out my response.

Quinn: Well, yeah? I couldn't just leave it with no protection. Then ANYONE could grab it!

Bearaffe: it's fine. Everything's fine.

I tuck the phone back in my bag and roll my eyes. Duh, it's fine. I swear, he's such a drama queen sometimes. He needs a big, sparkly tiara. Where else did he expect me to put it? Under the door mat?!

An hour later, during my last class of the day, the incessant buzzing returns.

11:12

Bearaffe: Where's the key for your car? Wanna pop the hood and take a look while I'm here.

Quinn: Check the fridge. And be gentle with Hot Mama. She's finicky.

Bearaffe: Fridge. Right. Should have thought of that. Who is hot mama?

11:13

Quinn: It's ok, we can't all be penises. Hot Mama is my car. Duh!

Quinn: Geniuses!! We can't all be GENIUSES.

Quinn: Stop thinking about Cash's penis.

Nooo! That was meant to stay in my head!

Quinn: I didn't mean to text that. Not that I'm thinking about your penis. I mean, I'm sure it's beautiful and I wouldn't be opposed to thinking about it. But I'm not. So, it's okay.

11:14

Quinn: Did you know there's a condition called diphallus where a guy is born with two penises? Peni?

Quinn: Do you have one or two?

Quinn: Don't answer that! Because I don't care about your penis.

11:15

Quinn: That sounded mean. I care...but not like that. If something is wrong with it, I'd care about your wellbeing. But I wouldn't care enough to want to see it for myself.

Quinn: Not that anything is wrong with you.

Quinn: It's best to just see a medical professional, Cash. I'm not a doctor.

11:17

Bearaffe: Key was in the fridge. You're out of eggs, btw. And I only have one penis. Gonna go work on the car now. See you in a bit.

My forehead slams down on the table and I let my phone fall to the floor. I was doing so well pretending I wasn't thinking about traveling to pound town, and now I've blown my cover! No! Don't say anything about blowing, Quinn.

When I lift my head back up to face the front of the class, all the students are turned in their seats, staring back here. I twist in my seat to see what's going on, but there's nothing interesting behind me. Which leads me to the conclusion that they're staring at me.

Can they hear my thoughts, too? Can everyone read my friggin mind or something?! I need to recalibrate that thing immediately.

"I'm not gonna blow him!" I yell innocently, defending myself to the entire class.

My confession has the opposite effect of what I was going for. Now they're staring even harder. A few of them even start snickering, drawing the attention from the professor as well. These people need to mind their own business. My sex life, or lack thereof, is none of their concern!

My cheetah speed kicks in as I hurriedly gather all my things and dash towards the exit. But then the cheetah retreats back into my soul as I trip over someone's messenger bag sitting in the aisle.

My books go flying across the room, along with one of my shoes. My knees and palms slap against the linoleum floor and someone laughs obnoxiously loud.

I don't need to look to know everyone is watching me like I'm some kind of circus act. Instead of wasting time collecting my belongings again, I slowly rise to my feet and walk out the door at a snail's pace. Head held high as I leave my books and shoe behind. I hated that shoe anyway.

When I approach the apartment, Hot Mama is jacked up in the air and I see Cash's legs sticking out from underneath, bent at the knees. I kick his shoe and he lazily kicks mine back.

"Gimme a minute. Almost done." I hear his muffled voice from under the car.

Planting my ass on the curb, I continue to watch him. Well, watch his legs at least. They're nice legs, even when they're covered by loose, faded jeans. Why do his baggy clothes make him even more...stop. He's not a piece of meat, despite what Tanya says.

After another minute, he starts wriggling from underneath the car. Once he stands at his full height, my jaw almost drops. I might be drooling.

"Needed an oil change." He huffs, pointing over his shoulder to the car. "I'm gonna replace the battery and starter too."

I nod without actually comprehending anything he just said because, right now, all I can focus on is the beautiful sight in front of me.

A god made of grease, sweat, and engine oil stands before me, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face off. It just spreads the oil even more. There are tiny specks of gravel imbedded in his arms from where he was crawling around on the ground.

I swallow after realizing saliva is pooling up inside my mouth.

"What the hell happened to you?" He nods to my socked foot before walking away to retrieve the oil pan from the other side of the car.

"Today's class got a little crazy." I say, still dazed. "I need you to come upstairs with me."

I don't know if I said that part out loud or not.

"I gotta get this shit cleaned up." He starts picking up a few tools that are scattered around the vehicle.

"Now, Cash. I need you to come upstairs, now."

Sorry Hot Mama, you must wait. You've spent all day with him anyways, you greedy bitch. After giving her an evil look, I'm on my feet and speed-walking into the shop.

"Is everything okay?" I hear him call after me.

When I don't supply him an answer, he follows quietly.

The second we're in the apartment, I start peeling off my shirt, right in the middle of the kitchen.

The collar gets trapped around my head and I'm stuck there looking like some kind of spaghetti monster, my arms flailing around while sticking straight up.

"Help." I cry out. "It's dark in here."

Instead of pulling the shirt off, he tugs it back down. I glare up at him, my fists on my hips.

"What?!" He asks defensively, taking a step back.

"Seriously, Cash?! Wrong way!"

"Huh? Oh! Well, how was I supposed to know what you were doing?"

You know what? The shirt can stay. He's used to seeing Skylar's boobs anyways, so mine will probably just disappoint. But his shirt is definitely coming off.

I grab the hem of his white tee, raising it. I'm too damn short to fully remove it for him. Or he's too damn tall. Either way, I've failed the mission again.

I huff out my frustration and he grins at me like it's funny! My dire need to see Cash's stomach is not humorous. But then he grants my wishes, removing his shirt. His bare stomach is drool worthy. Toned but not so defined that it feels like your fingers will get sucked into the crevices of his abs.

When he looks down at me, his oil-stained face makes me break out in a cold-sweat. I never knew I had an oil fetish until now. I want him like this all the time.

I start to unbutton my jeans and then stop, remembering something.

"It's alright, Quinn. You don't need to do this." Cash whispers, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

"No, it's just – I didn't – I haven't shaved my legs in a while. I'm a wooly mammoth right now."

He steps into me and my ass bumps against the ledge of the counter. His palms bracket my face and he forces my head to tilt back, meeting his eyes.

"And I'm covered in grease. Probably smell disgusting, too." He responds with cool confidence before he leans down and kisses the corner of my mouth.

Yeah, but grease and sweat is sexy. Mammoths are not.

His hands slide just under my ass cheeks, lifting me to sit on the ledge of the counter. I squeal at the movement, becoming increasingly nervous for some reason. With the way my insides are falling apart right now, you'd think I'm a damn virgin.

I think I forgot what I'm supposed to do with my hands. And my vagina. Are the boobs supposed to do anything? I don't know because I can't friggin think right now! All I can focus on is how, if my pants come off, he'll be running his hands through a forest.

I bet he never had to deal with friction related forest fires when he was with Skylar.

Calloused fingertips melt my flesh when they start trailing up my sides, causing my shirt to rise up. Once he lifts the fabric over my head and places it next to me on the counter, I start spiraling into a world of paranoia and fear.

Ethan picked Skylar over me, and Cash picked Skylar before me. It's obvious she has something I don't know about. I don't want to find out what that something is. Or maybe I do, so I can go pick it up from the hot girl store real quick.

My arms cross over my chest to prevent him from seeing the girls and I hunch over to hide my not-as-flat-as-Skylar's stomach. Why did I do this to myself? The oil monster hypnotized me outside and the spell is officially wearing off.

Cash leans back and keeps his eyes trained on my face while his giant paws settle on my jean-clad thighs. I can't bring myself to meet his scrutinizing gaze.

His fingers slide under my palms, and he gently pries my arms away from my body, draping them around his neck instead. Not once do his eyes drift below my neck, helping ease the worry a little. He closes the tiny shred of distance between us again and lifts my legs, wrapping them around his hips.

Lifting me off the counter, he carries me over to the couch as I cling to his body. He sits, me straddling his lap, keeping my body as close to his as possible so he can't see any of it. The skin-to-skin contact is making my heart pulsate sporadically.

"Why are you nervous?" He asks quietly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"I just...I haven't eaten today so I'm kind of hungry. I get a little moody when I'm hungry. And the shaving thing. And...and I'm bloated, and my boobs aren't as big as Skylar's so you might not even like them and I feel like –"

"Okay, pause." He huffs out, his face a beautiful display of frustration.

He used my thing! He paused me!

Despite all the insecurities flying around in my brain, I can't help but smile. And I pause. Because you can't disrespect the pause, rewind, play demands.

"Quinn, you're not seriously comparing yourself to Skylar right now, are you? Because she has nothing on you. It's not even a close call."

Liar. I looked down her shirt once at the club. It was sheer curiosity. I know what those boobs look like all smushed together, shining under the blacklights. Okay...in hindsight, I guess that sounds kind of creepy. I know I shouldn't be looking down girl's shirts.

But it's too late. It's already been done, and I know what they look like now.

"Men always say that to the new girls."

I feel his hands sweep up my back, unhooking my bra.

Red alert!! The girls are about to be busted out of bra prison and I'm not mentally prepared to disappoint him yet.