First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

I want to reach out and put my hand on Quinn, get him to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down, but I can’t move. My feet are rooted in place, like I’m watching a car accident happening right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“Oh shit!” Tyler laughs. “That wasn’t supposed to happen until tomorrow. I guess she jumped the gun.”

There are a few beats of silence in the room as Quinn processes what just came out of Tyler’s mouth.

“Quinn, no!”

My quickly shouted words are too late. Quinn has closed the distance and is shoving Tyler in the chest as hard as he can before I even take my next breath.

“What the fuck?” Quinn roars, making everyone in the room jump, as Tyler stumbles back, tripping over the legs of a chair and quickly grabbing onto the end of the table before he falls.

“Don’t you what the fuck me!” Tyler shouts back, breathing heavy as he rights himself and jerks the front of his suit coat back into place, his face getting red with anger. “How about what the fuck, Quinn? Suddenly, you start shirking all your responsibilities when you get a little slutty cheerleader pussy!”

Quinn’s fist is slamming into Tyler’s face before he barely finishes the sentence. I gasp, and my hands fly up to my mouth, not even realizing someone is standing behind me until I feel a pair of hands gently come down on my shoulders in comfort. Everyone starts shouting, and Patrick, Marcus, and Craig quickly flank Quinn’s sides as Tyler holds his hands to his face, screaming as blood pours through his fingers.

“You son of a bitch! You ruined my fucking nose job!”

“I told you what would happen if you disrespected her again,” Quinn snaps, his chest heaving with his anger as he stares at the man who has been his best friend for fifteen years. “I’m going to ruin more than your goddamn nose job. How could you do this?”

“How about you point the finger of blame on the person who started all this and brought all this chaos to your life, because it sure as shit wasn’t me!” Tyler screams, swiping a cloth napkin from the table and holding it against his nose, glaring at me from across the room as my stomach drops right into my feet.

“I told you that shit in confidence as my friend, not as my agent,” Quinn reminds him, every muscle in his body tense like he’s just waiting to throw his fist again.

“Yeah, well as your friend and agent, I was getting a little tired of you fucking up your career, turning down endorsements left and right, just to play house with her.”

“You said it was just one thing and it wasn’t important,” I speak quietly, that nagging seed of doubt I tried to push away coming back to life, as Quinn’s head whips back to look at me, a little of his anger slipping away when his eyes meet mine.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t a big deal, I promise. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Too late….

“Will you fucking listen to yourself?” Tyler shouts again, making Quinn turn away from me. “It’s not a big deal? This is your fucking job! Your goddamn dream! And you’re screwing it all up, letting yourself get distracted and lose focus!”

I knew it. I knew this would happen.

“What the hell was all that shit you said to me at the charity event, about her being too good for me, and all the positive, encouraging things you’ve said when we talked since then?” Quinn asks, the hurt in his voice momentarily replacing his anger and my heart cracking right in half for him.

“What the hell do you think it was?” Tyler sniffles, gently dabbing at his nose and wincing when he pulls the cloth back and sees all the blood. “I told you what you wanted to hear, just like I’ve done for the last fifteen years. I did my job. I thought it was time to remind you that you have a fucking job to do too.”

“You piece of shit,” Quinn mutters, shaking his head in disgust.

“Oh please. Don’t turn into a crybaby on me now. You’re the one who’s finally where you’re supposed to be, and you’re going to throw it all away over some gold-digging slut.”

Quinn’s fist is slamming into Tyler’s stomach before anyone can even stop him. Although the guys definitely seem to take their time walking up behind Quinn and wrapping their arms around his chest to pull him back, as Tyler stays bent over, gasping, wheezing, and clutching his stomach.

“You’re seriously throwing away fifteen years for that bitch?” Tyler pants, looking up at Quinn with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Call her one more name that isn’t Emily, and we’ll stop holding him back,” Patrick threatens Tyler, warming the chill that has spread through my body for just a few seconds, as they finally use their muscles on Quinn, while he struggles against their tight holds on him.