Beyond Me (Quinn and James 1)

My heart pounded, but I kept my voice calm. "Go ahead."

"I'm kind of a nerd."

I waited for more, but that seemed to be the big confession. Relief whooshed through my body. "You're a very sexy nerd," I said.

Her lips twisted in a half-smile. "I'm serious. I'm lame. I don't get off on drinking hard, parading myself around, and making endless conversation with people who don't care. I'm sorry. But if you want me to go, I will."

It didn't take me long to make my decision. In fact, the moment I accepted what I was about to do, I was completely at peace. I didn't want to hold these parties anymore. I wanted to spend the day alone with Quinn and let it take us wherever it would. I was done with that part of my life, and it was about time I did something about it.

"I'm canceling the party, Quinn. I've been trying to get out of them for a while now. Hell, I don't even enjoy it. Time for someone else to take over."

She gnawed on her lip. "Don't do it for me."

I smiled and ran a thumb over her now swollen mouth. "I'm doing it for me. Will you spend the day with me alone?"

Her face lit up and my heart stopped. "Yes. And I have a long list of activities for us."

"More?"

Her eyes danced. "Yeah. But tomorrow we'll keep it all horizontal."

The blood whooshed to my other head. "My kind of activities."

"Thought you'd like that." She studied my features, and her hand lifted to push my hair back from my brow. Her gentle touch burned like charcoal against my skin. "You remind me of Gatsby."

"F. Scott Fitzgerald? Didn't they make a bunch of movies about Gatsby? Wealthy guy with a mansion, lusting after a girl from his past?"

She continued her caress, smoothing her fingers down my cheek, across my jaw, and touching the center of my lips. Her sweet scent carried on the ocean breeze and tangled me in its spell. I'd never be able to smell coconut without thinking of her. "Yeah. He has all the money in the world, and holds these lavish parties that everyone flocks to. Handsome, smart, mysterious. He's a celebrity everyone wants a piece of. But inside, he's lonely. Separate from the crowd. He ends up pinning all his hopes on Daisy because she made him feel something."

I felt as if we were on the verge of something huge, and if I said the wrong words, the moment would pass forever. The boat pulled to the dock, and the crew scattered to begin debarking. "Do you feel sorry for Gatsby?" I knew I'd walk away if she said yes. I could take anything but this woman's pity, or becoming one of her pet projects.

She cocked her head. A touch of a smile rested on her bow lips. "Of course not. Gatsby had all the power. Daisy never did." Her dark eyes shimmered with heat and truth and possibility. "He just didn't know it."

A couple bumped into us. I took her hand and led her off the boat, wondering what she meant.

THE SUNSET festival was like a circus with the backdrop of water and sky. I held tight to James' hand as we weaved our way through the staggering crowds and watched performers take turns dazzling us with their talents. Trained dogs doing flips and acrobats were in the right corner; the middle had a man on a unicycle juggling; and the left boasted a woman who seemed to have no muscles or bones, bending her body into insane positions for the approval of strangers.

I munched on popcorn, safely past my seasickness, and the glowing sun began to sink. Music pounded around us--Jimmy Buffett again--and people merged into one group. I enjoyed watching public events for the way separateness merged into unity. Usually, people tried to avoid one another, heads bent to our phones for email, texts, and video games; ears covered by headphones, ducking down to avoid contact. But today, waiting for sunset, there was magic in the air and everyone sensed it. We laughed and bumped into each other and didn't try to hide.

Excitement built as the three performers melted away and welcomed the sword swallower. He perused the audience, boasting a dangerous tale, and asked the crowd for silence and meditation to avoid injury. His mouth opened and the sword slipped down his throat. I gasped along with everyone else, stunned at the display. I knew James had seen it countless times, but I clung to him in sheer fear that something terrible would happen.

The sword sank in deep, and he slowly pulled it out to the thunderous applause. I jumped up and down and James laughed, his face open and soft as he gazed at me. My heart turned to mush, and my gut churned. I was getting very attached. The fact he'd cancel his big party to spend alone time with me affected my firm position not to feel anything past sex. There was a piece of a lost soul beating within him that called to me. Probably the classic cliche of fixing the wounded, one of my weaknesses. I couldn't walk away from someone who needed me; it was my calling card. But James gave me something priceless, that I've never experienced before.

Magic.

When I was him, I became someone else. Someone better. I was sexy, and confident, and silly, and just me. I'd never felt comfortable enough to shed my outside skin and show a guy my real self. I knew he wasn't faking liking me to get me into bed, we were past that part, but stuck at a crossroads where neither of us really wanted to define what was happening.

"Here's the finale," James pointed out. A tightrope was strung across the dock, over the water, and the performer was climbing the ladder and getting himself settled on the left landing. The sun sank inches lower, hovering on the edge of the horizon. He held a long stick and wore some type of ballet slippers.

The audience fell quiet. He ventured onto the rope, step after step, making his way to the middle. Filled with poise and grace, his movements flowed into one another as he hit dead center, and the sun dropped out of sight, scattering the skyline with sparks of vibrant orange and blackness.

His shadow was beautiful as he completed his ballet dance over the water, then with a flip, he steadied and reached the right landing.

I whistled and clapped hard until my hands stung. "Do they do this every night?" I asked, craning my head up to look at James.

"Every night," he confirmed. "And it's always crowded."

"Such a beautiful tradition," I murmured. How badly I craved routine in my life. I lived consistently wondering what disaster would await me at home, trying to control things I couldn't. But tradition was sweeter than routine, and brought elements of family, love, or comfort. "I wish we had something like this in Chicago."

He stole some popcorn and fed me first, then himself. "Smaller towns and islands have more unique events like this. Bigger cities are great, but you can get a bit lost."

"Which do you prefer?" I asked curiously.

He paused in the act of chewing. "I'd prefer to settle in a big city and take side trips. I grew up in New York."

"How long did you stay there?"

He shrugged. "Till about ten, I think. Then we moved to Florida. My father runs a big banking empire, so every time there's some type of merger, we follow the trail. We've been in Chicago for a while too, and California."

I tried to be casual, but I was hungry for more information. "Your father didn't try and recruit you for banking?"

A shadow of pain passed over his face. "Yeah, he did. Declared me incompetent for such a career. When I made my first mistake, he pointed it out in a big meeting and humiliated me. Basically told everyone I'd never step into his shoes, but he couldn't reject his son because it was a family business. Then took me in his private office to tell me how worthless I was."

I winced. My dad was a drunk, but I always knew he loved me, even when he screwed up. I couldn't imagine being with parents who were cold. "And your mom?"

"Mom runs charity functions and has little to say in Dad's business. She runs in high society groups, throws big parties, that sort of shit. I tried to be what my father wanted for almost a year, but it was a fucked-up mess, and I finally quit. He insisted I try out some Ivy League careers then, probably by greasing some palms of bigwig assholes, so I flunked out." He shrugged again. "No big deal. They both leave me alone now so I can do what I want."

It sounded good, but realizing your

own parents didn't care about you was bound to cause some issues. "What do you want to do now?" I asked.

He stared at me, seemingly surprised by the direct question. A glint of hunger sparked in his ice blue eyes. Oh yeah, he did want to do something. Art? I leaned in, greedy for any information he'd share. Finally, he answered. "More."

So much vibrated within his one-word answer. "Like?" I prodded.