CASSIUS

Even though Quinn is clinging to me like a lifeline, hugging the ever-living shit out of me, I can't control my laughter.

I was fully prepared to ignore the sound that came from her. I'm not stuck in my prepubescent years. But then Quinn said what she did, and I just completely lost it. Maybe I'm not as evolved as I like to think.

Choosing to be with Quinn means I chose her quirks and ridiculous commentary as well. It makes sense that sex wouldn't be any different. It's a relief, honestly. And a first for me. I've never laughed so hard that I cried after sex before, and I kind of love it.

Nerves had me wound tight every time I thought of taking things further. Her background made me hesitant because I can get a little aggressive in bed and I was terrified that it might trigger her. The last thing I wanted was to turn something that should be fun into a panic attack. I tried to take it slow – I fucking swear – but all restraint went out the window as soon as she was naked.

Fuck the fact that her body unexpectedly responded to my every move like it was exactly what she needed, or that her energy was a perfect match for mine. That shit's great, but the best part of the entire thing was her comment once it was all over. I want that moment a thousand times over.

Finally managing to contain my hysterics, only having residual tremors of laughter, I crawl all the way onto the couch and maneuver myself underneath Quinn. Her bare breasts are pushed into my uninjured side, her naked body emitting heat as it presses tightly against me.

One of my legs hangs off the couch, foot planted on the floor, while she hooks hers around my other one. I really wish she had a bed. It'd be nice to stretch out right now. She yawns into my ribcage, nuzzling her face further into my body.

"I think you're my favorite person." She mumbles sleepily.

A massive smile breaks out across my face as I stare up at the ceiling. Never thought I'd hear that. Quinn may dish out compliments like it's her full-time job, but she's mostly indifferent with people in general. Despite agreeing to give me a chance, I didn't think she'd warm up to me for a while. Maybe I'm doing better than I feel like I am.

As much as I'd love to stay squished into a couch that feels more like a toddler's bed, I really need to shower. Between the pandemonium at the club, handling the aftermath, and the more entertaining extracurriculars with Quinn, I feel disgusting. And I'm pretty sure she's drooling on me again, adding to the layers of grime that need to be washed away.

"Hey." I whisper, nudging her awake. "Can I use your shower?"

"Mhm. Just watch out for the curtain." She mutters after making a slurping sound.

"Why? What's wrong with the curtain?"

"It tries to kill me."

She rolls over and smashes her face into the crevice between the cushions, leaving me with unintelligible thoughts of murderous home décor.

When I stroll into the bathroom, I notice the curtain is zip tied to the bar above the shower rather than hanging by the rings you'd see in a normal home. I have a lot of questions about this, but there's no point in asking.

After the water heats up, I step into the tub and rest my head against the wall, letting the droplets pelt against the knotted muscles in my shoulders and back. Even though I have to crouch to keep myself under the showerhead, it's still relaxing. Until I turn around.

A string of inaudible curses whizz past my lips as the warm water assaults the sutures on my forehead. This one will probably be sore for a while. It isn't the deepest lesion I've had, but the impact from the glass bottle that caused it is definitely going to leave some bruising around the edges.

The only option for bodywash is some kind of shea butter, vanilla thing. The shampoo doesn't have a scent listed on it but, when I pop the cap open, there's a faint floral aroma. I'm going to get so much shit if I show up at work tomorrow smelling like a woman. I shrug and start lathering up. If they're sniffing me, I probably need to address some more serious issues with my co-workers.

By the time I finish showering, I've made the executive decision that I'm permanently stealing Quinn's personal hygiene products because my skin and hair are softer than ever after drying myself off.

Instead of exiting the bathroom, I lean against the doorframe and grin as I examine my ball of fire in another one of her rare moments of peace. She blows my mind, even when she's unconscious.

She's flat on her stomach, but her legs are bent up, the heels of her feet almost touching her bare ass. One arm dangles off the couch while the other is twisted behind her back like she's being arrested. Her mouth is wide open, and I can almost guarantee there's drool all over that cushion.

This woman is so fucking beautiful, it's not even funny. Well...it's kind of funny because, after all, that's part of what makes her beautiful in the first place.

After getting my fill of watching the wild Quinn in her natural habitat, I decide to join her. It takes some precarious shifting, lifting, and repositioning but, eventually, I'm able to squeeze at least half of my body onto the couch.

I love the convenience of her apartment being right across the street from my work, but damn, we're going to have to start venturing out to my house sometimes because I need a real bed. Especially after nights like tonight.

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

For the second time, Mabel is staring me down as I sit at her kitchen table. We're surrounded by the dense fog from her cigarettes. Only this time, she isn't spouting off at the mouth while Quinn cleans the house.

There was a twenty-minute argument this morning about whether I was coming with her to her mum's place again. She was dead set against it but there are two simple reasons I came out on top.

One: I'm not letting her drive that car again until I've replaced every damn thing under the hood.

Two: I'm aware of how much damage Mabel can do to Quinn's psyche within a matter of minutes. No fucking way I'm leaving her alone with someone like that until I'm convinced there's nothing to worry about.

She actually introduced herself again, like we never met. I went along with it because, honestly, I wouldn't mind a redo. This time isn't nearly as bad as the last visit, but there's still a layer of tension thick enough to suffocate you.

While she examines the cuts and bruises on my face, the scabbed knuckles, I watch the way her throat bobs with every nervous swallow and the way her fingers twitch if she goes more than three minutes without lifting the glass to her lips.

"You violent?" Mabel finally asks, gesturing to my face with a tilt of her head.

"Only when provoked." There's a silent warning in there that I didn't quite mean to let slip out. I'd never put my hands on Mabel, no matter how badly I want to shake her out of her addiction for Quinn's sake.

The incessant need I have to shield Quinn from the world is becoming a little too prevalent. Too powerful. Which means it's transforming into yet another weakness.

"I imagine it's easy to provoke you." She mumbles, sipping her drink.

I move my hands under the table and flex them so I can focus on anything other than the insults running rampant in my head. The truth is, I'm not an easy guy to provoke. At least, I wasn't.

Don't get me wrong, I've always been a fighter. If it wasn't in a controlled environment like the ring, the rink, or the club, it was simply for the sake of survival. Drug deals gone wrong, encountering the wrong people at the wrong time kind of shit. I slipped up with Ryan Farrow but, other than that, I've been able to manage not popping off the second I don't like the way something is going.

When it comes to protecting the girl who's been burned by everyone around her, that shit goes out the window. She still sees the world with a childlike sense of wonder and her naivety, while frustrating at times, is something that draws me to her.

I know her antics are a way to cope with the damage that's already been dealt, and I want to keep that pain from spreading. I don't want it to claim the pieces of her that separate her from the other jaded assholes in the world.

"Mabel, can I get you anything?"

I recoil in my seat, shocked that those words just came out of my mouth. And they came out normal. Guess she's just as thrown off as I am, because she's staring at me like I just asked for permission to poison her food or some shit.

"N-no thank you." She stammers, still questioning my motives.

My fingers tap against my knee as I try to think of something to talk about. Anything. Weather is too basic. I don't know a damn thing about her other than she's a mentally abusive alcoholic with a deadbeat husband, a dead son, and an amazing daughter that she takes for granted.

And all I actually want to say is get your head out of your ass and put the fucking drink down.

My phone pings and I almost exhale a sigh of relief, grateful for the interruption.

MaxiPad: Need u at the club early 2nite.

Max is fifty years old but still texts like he's a teenage girl. I laugh every time I see something come in from him. I'd put money on it that Mabel thinks my smile is for some other woman. I keep my focus on the phone when she doesn't comment on it.

Cassius: Kind of busy right now.

MaxiPad: Its important. Wont take no 4 an answer

I groan, annoyed with the situation. I don't want to cut Quinn's time with her mum short, but Max doesn't usually order me around unless he's in some kind of mood.

"Excuse me." I grumble, dismissing myself from the table.

In the living room, Quinn is furiously hand-scrubbing a stain on the area rug. She's hyper-focused on the spot, putting all she's got into cleaning it. I squat down in front of her and place my hand on top of hers, halting her movements. She doesn't peer up at me, but I'm guessing I've got her attention.

"I gotta go to the club. Max said it's urgent. I can either take you home or come pick you up after I'm done."

She whips her head up and the scared look she's wearing catches me off guard. My gut reaction is to place my hand on the side of her neck.

"You're leaving?"

Seeing as how she didn't want me to come with her in the first place, I'm baffled as to why she sounds upset that I won't be here. I can feel the wild pulse in her throat, so I sit down in front of her. After prying the sponge from her hand, I spread my legs and she scoots forward until she's between them. Our faces are inches apart as I scour her eyes, trying to accurately gauge where her head is at.

"Tell me what you need from me, Quinn." I say quietly, smoothing my hand down her hair.

She continues to stare, not saying anything. One day, this woman is going to speak her mind. I fucking guarantee it. But I don't think today is that day. Not without a little coaxing.

"Quinn," I try again, "remember what I said? Whatever you need, I'll get it done. You just have to tell me, okay? I can't read minds."

Her exhaled breath bounces off my neck and her eyes dart to the back of her mum's head before returning to mine.

"I...I don't know. Maybe...Oreos?"

My head drops as I laugh at the unexpected answer.

"Okay." I nod, a smile stuck to my lips. "I think I can swing that. Anything else?"

"I guess...well...I don't want to leave but – but what if I stay and she gets crazy? And then I have no way out because I didn't drive and it's too far for me to walk back home and I have no way to escape if –"

"The gum that's stuck to the ceiling at Shadow? Billy was choking on it one night."

Her downward spiral ranting pauses, but I can see it in her eyes that there's still a war in her head. At least she's focusing on my words.

"He was walking through the club one night and got bumped by a customer while he was chewing his gum. Guess it got lodged in his throat. Silas slapped him on the back to try and help. And I mean really slapped him. I swear you could hear it echo through the whole damn place. But it only made it worse."

She nods slowly, following along with the story she's been begging to hear.

"Gio ran over to help but he's so much taller than Billy so when he started the Heimlich, which he absolutely doesn't know how to do, by the way, it looked really awkward. He had to squat down and was pretty much just dry humping Billy all over the place. He tripped and when they fell backwards, the impact helped Billy cough the gum out. Shot all the way up to the ceiling. That's how it got stuck."

I chuckle while recalling the whole fiasco.

"Wow...they're really bad at life." She says with a shake of her head.

I smile, agreeing with that observation. Imagine the most accident-prone person in existence claiming you're bad at life. I can't wait to tell Billy and Gio. But back to the problem at hand.

"Alright Quinn, here's the deal. You stay here and spend some time with your mum while I meet up with Max. If anything happens that you don't like, I'm just a text away. You say the words, and I'm back here before you even get the chance to blink."

"I don't want to interrupt you when you're –"

I grip the back of her head and bring her forehead to mine.

"I'm not the guys you dated before." I press my lips to hers and pull back again. "When I tell you something, I mean it. I'm not in the business of bullshitting." Another kiss. "If I have a choice, I'm choosing you every time, Quinn."

This time, she throws her arms around my neck and rests her face in the dip in my shoulder. I squeeze and whisper against her hair. "It'll be easier if you just start coming to terms with that."

"I'll think about it, but it's not likely. I mean, who would take advice from a guy who stitches himself up like a madman and dates the town lunatic? You're a whole different level of crazy, Cash."

I push her backwards onto the floor and crawl over her.

"You'll listen." I speak sternly before brushing the tips of our noses. "One day."

"Ugh, you're so bossy." She scoffs, staring into my eyes while the corner of her mouth snakes up.

Mabel clears her throat, reminding me that she's still here. I swear, sometimes Quinn makes everything in the background disappear. But no, her mum is definitely here and watching as I hover over her daughter on the living room floor.

Just for shits and giggles, I lean down and kiss her again. I make sure this one is slow and deliberate, sealing the commitment I just made to her. I need her to know that despite everything being a joke with her, I'm serious about what I said.

Jumping to my feet, I grab her hand and drag her up with me. I shake my phone in the air next to my head, reminding her to text me if anything goes wrong. Once she nods, I reluctantly leave her and a very irate Mabel behind.