Page 49 of Waiting For You

I watch as Quinn walks away, his long legs carrying him down the dirt path, and I want to follow him. I need to explain that my mind is just a mess, but he doesn’t look back. He seemed off after what happened in the truck.

He’s mad, I can tell.

Fuck, I’ve ruined it. Not that I expected anything less from myself. I’m a champ at making things weird. I did it for years with Karen. I learned a lot during that time in my life. Apparently not enough though because I’m still fucking doing it.

I move into the trailer to change my underwear and grab a beer.

I should have shown more restraint when it came to him, but he’s just so…alluring. I just can’t keep my distance.

And the sex…best fucking sex.

The best. And we haven’t even fucked.

I press my forehead against the wall of the trailer and take a deep breath. I can fix this, maybe. I can apologize and set some boundaries.

He’ll respect those, I know he will.

Damn, but truthfully, I don’t want boundaries. For once in my life, I want something for myself, something I shouldn’t want, but do.

I want to be selfish. I want to take and take andtake.

I move outside, the warm air hitting my skin and inhale deeply. It’s all earth and wind out here. It’s so damn beautiful, and I wish I could appreciate it more, but my mind’s on other things.

I pull out the camping chair and plop onto it, facing the path that Quinn disappeared down. I’ll just wait for him to come back and then we can talk.

Fuck, I hate talking. It makes me squirm and sweat. It’s why I’ve been alone for so many years. Because partnership requires communication and I’m shit at it.

I fucking suck at opening my mouth and talking about how I feel.

But I need to. We need to. We need to clear the air.

I glance down at my phone again, at my son beaming up at me from the picture he sent, and I feel my heart pinch.

Would he really care if I was with Quinn? Joshua hasn’t ever really been interested in my life. I don’t know if Quinn and I messing around would even bother him. Joshua is going to college out of state. But then again, am I willing to risk it—to risk this fragile relationship with my son?

It seems that I might.

It seems I’m willing to make all sorts of excuses to get what I want.

My legs are spread before me and I scoot lower in the chair, my eyes closing, my beer dangling from my fingers.

I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute and rest. When I open them again, Quinn better fucking be home.

* * *

When I wake a while later, I scan the area in front of me and don’t see him. I don’t know how much time has passed, but the sun is lower in the sky and he’s still not back. God, I hope he didn’t get lost. I think about how he told me how much he hated his parents letting him wander around by himself. I shouldn’t have let him walk off alone. I should have gone with him, should have insisted.

I realize now that I messed up. He didn’t need his space, he needed me to chase him.

Standing up, I run a hand over my face, my beer is on the ground, toppled over. I pick it up and toss it in the garbage can on the side of the path. And that’s when I see him.

Quinn is chatting with someone else a few camping spots down.

A girl his age.

My heart flutters in my chest, an ugly feeling welling up within me. Something I can’t quite define. Not so much jealousy, but more like rage, panic…desperation.

Because he’s bisexual and she’s young. Pretty. His age.