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Still Time - Fall Anthology 2023 - Leap of Faith Due 10/1 ×
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Breaking Quincy - 9. Chapter 9 - Confusing

Breaking Quincy : Confusing


The wind tickled my cheek, and I hugged my coat around me tighter. My mind was racing. I kept picturing Sasha leaning in, trying to kiss my Asher. What would he have done, really, if I hadn't've interrupted? Would he have kissed her back? More? The thought chilled me more than the breeze, and I picked up my pace.


At first, I didn't hear the leafs crunching behind me. I was so busy trying not to think about Asher and Sasha that I nearly jumped a mile high when I felt the hand on my shoulder. I let out a little yelp and spun around fast, heart racing in my chest. My adrenaline was pumping, sympathetic nervous system kicking in, ready to fight for my life.


Parker stood there, just as suave as ever, wearing a black coat with brown faux fur around the hood. I took a step back, a bit shocked. After everything that's happened lately, I was on edge. Parker gave me a seductive smile before turning his head towards the wind, closing his eyes as it swept across his face. His tongue ran over his red lips, smiling at something. I stood there, wrapping my arms around myself, waiting to see what happened next.


"We didn't meet here. Ky and I grew up together in Hawaii." I tilted my head, confused. I guess they both had that tan, sexy tropical feel about them. Ky was more Asain looking, with those dark almond eyes. Parker was more rugged, with his scruff hair and 5 o'clock shadow. He was like, a sexy tan lumber jack? Why was I thinking these things? I was with Asher! I shouldn't be picturing Parker, wearing an unbuttoned plaid shirt, sweat glistening…


"He isn't a bad guy, you know?" Parker still wasn't looking at me, eyes closed towards the wind. "He had a lot of shit happen to him on the Island. Our mothers were close, and moved to the states together. Enrolled us in the same school. Yeah, a lot of shit happened…" I waited for more, to find out what exactly had happened. I inched forward, intrigued by Parker's tale.


"You don't belong with Asher." Now, this made me startle. Of course I belonged with Asher! Sure, he was overprotective. And constantly fucked up and fickle, shoving me in the locker room and kissing pretty girls. But he was my best friend since… since elementary. These have been hard times. I loved Asher. Surely Parker knew that.


But, Parker was different. Physically, he was weaker than Asher. Personality wise, though… Asher seemed liked a nervous little boy in compression. Sure, Asher could give a sexy smirk, but it was so obviously a disguise. When Parker would give a smirk, it was true confidence, true seduction. He had this all over manly strength about him that drew me in. The way he stood, shoulders back, chest out, strong cheek bones under his bright eyes, contrasting with the tan skin.


"You belong with me."


He reached out then, closing the gap between us. His large hands rested on my hips, and he tugged me to him. No! You're Asher's! Push him back, asshole! My head was screaming at me, but my body didn't seem to listen. As if acting on their own accord, my arms draped themselves over Parker's broad shoulders, hooking behind his neck. Our breath clouds merged together in the small space between our lips. I was trembling again, but not from the cold.


Parker was so sure of himself, so confident and solid. He gripped the back of my brown hair, yanking me closer. Our lips connected, and jolts of electricity fired through me. I fell against him, grabbing at his coat, gasping as his tongue slide over mine, overpowering it and pinning it to the bottom of my mouth. I was frantically grabbing at him, tugging and pulling and pushing. Parker was calm as ever, palms slowly sliding up and down my sides.


His touch calmed me. I stopped clinging. My hands copied his, resting on his waist. I smiled, nodding against my lips. "That's it. Just relax." He whispered voice did relax me. His fingers slowly, seductively, teased the top of my pants, rubbing at the skin below them. His hips were rocking back and forth against mine, grinding against my crotch. His easy, sexy control made my head reel. How was he always so composed?


It was when finger popped open my zipper button that I did push him back. "I can't," I protested softly, my body urging me to push my body back into his arms. Parker made no move towards me, no sudden jerks to yank me back. That wasn't his style. He chased no one. I played with the zipper of my jacket, looking at the floor. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my throat threatening to close up.


Parker shrugged in his easy way, letting the brown and yellow leafs swirl around his feet. "You'll come around." Parker scratched at his stubble, thinking, I figured. He reached into his pocket at tossed something at me. I caught it, and he turned, walking back towards the school.


I looked down at the simple silver foiled wrapped Hershy's kiss in my palm.






"Watch it, Quinton!" My mother had always been a worrier. She was your typical suburban housewife, brown hair in a short bob cut, thin wire frames perched on top her defined nose. She had blue eyes, like I did. My father sat quietly at the table, still in his suit and tie from work, pushing around the peas and corn with his fork.


I looked down at the saltshaker my elbow had knocked over on the table. "Sorry, Ma," I muttered, standing it upright. I was lucky, some would say. Two parents who cared for me, a home cooked meal every night. It was my mother who had taught me how to cook. I smiled a bit down at the pan-seared chicken- The same chicken recipe I had made for Asher before he gave me head on this very table. I blushed hot red, realizing we were all sitting on a table I had been naked on.


"You've been off, Son," my father said, not asked. He was the man of the house, the breadwinner, the head poncho or whatever the expression is. He sat there with a sense of superiority. I mean, I knew he cared for me. He was just never the type to show it. "Well. Out with it." He put down his fork, eyes staring into mine.


My eyes avoided his, my thin body shifting around in my chair. I always crumbled whenever he put me in the hot spot. I stuttered something about homework and swim team, but his harsh gaze didn't leave me. He wasn't buying it. What do I have to lose? I looked up then, my eyes meeting my father's. My life was so out of control, let's add one more thing to the burner.


"I'm dating Asher. I'm gay."


Now, that got my father and mother's attention. My mother instantly got up and went to the kitchen, fiddling uselessly with the oven. My father didn't flinch. He looked at me for a good long while. I noticed the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. He was getting older, our generation gap obvious. I looked down, unable to handle his unwavering gaze.


"Find somewhere else to sleep tonight."


I looked up instantly, my eyes wide with shock. I mean, I always heard of kids getting kicked out, but I never thought my father would do that! My father went back to his meal, boredly forking peas into his mouth as if he had just said to clean my room later. I looked into the kitchen, thinking my mother would come to my rescue. Of course, she never did.


I stood up, my hands shaking. I could tell my father was serious. He was always quiet and firm when he was being serious. My stomach sank as I caught a glimpse of my mother's gaze from the doorway. She had a sad look in her eyes, a pitty look. I knew my mother, she adored me. She didn't want me to leave. My mother loved me.


As I opened the door with backpack, however, she said nothing.




The mirror was foggy as I wrapped the towel around my waist, but a caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Tan skin. Shining eyes. I smirked at my reflection, petting at my stubble. I always kept it trimmed, like I just forgot to shave. Girls seemed to like that about me. The camp counselor they could never head, I've heard a few times. Boys didn't seem to mind, either.


Ding dong!


I frowned, looking at the time. 11:46 pm. Ma wouldn't be home another three hours from he graveyard shift. I quickly threw on boxers and a black tank top before heading down the hall of our one story house. Carefully, I opened the door, peeking my head around. I was shocked at what I saw.


"Quincy?" I ask softly. He was standing there, eyes puffy red, clutching a soaking wet backpack. It was raining, and his shaggy brunette hair hung in wet strands around his face, those breathtaking blue eyes looking up at me. Just seeing him standing there, I remembered our kiss on the trail, how he relaxed in my grasp, that tongue submitting to mine. I wanted him again.


"Can I come in?" God. He was so cute when he was scared. Of course, I tugged him in, running upstairs to grab him dry clothes and a towel. He seemed like he was in shock. I couldn't tell if he was shaking from the cold or from something else. As he changed, I made us both a cup of hot chocolate. He seemed to need it.


We sat across from each other. He sat, sipping at the hot liquid, knees bent inward. "Quince. Tell me what's wrong." He looked up at me, that babydoll face contorted in a look of need. There's no way Asher could ever handle a baby like him. Quincy needed a man. Quincy needed me.


"Oh, Parker!" Quincy looked up at me, his ocean eyes big as ever. "It was horrible! They kicked me out from the house! And Asher wasn't answering his phone! And I didn't know where else to go. It was raining!"


I chuckled. Perhaps I shouldn't've done that, because it made Quincy pout even harder. "Obviously, it's raining," I said, nodding at the pile of wet clothes on the floor. I was never one to get very worked up or emotional. Back on the Island, Ma would tell me I was as calm as the waves. I looked at Quincy, at his red eyes, his pitiful expression. "He `opu holau," I muttered softly as I reached across the table for Quincy's hand. A heart as big as a house. This kid's heart was too big for his body.


Our fingers laces together for a moment, and I could tell his were trembling. Was I selfish, seducing and courting the poor boy like this? He must be so confused, between Asher and his family, and now me. I know he loved Asher. And what's more, Asher was mad about Quincy! And it was easy to see why, with that angelic demeanor, thin body, trusting personality. If I truly cared for him, I'd back off and let him be.


As his fingers tightened around mine, I knew that I could never do that.

Copyright © 2011 ChaseRose; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental. Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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