Midnight Muse

“Thank you,” she says quietly when I step back. I don’t answer because I can’t, the words cling to my throat as I turn and swing my leg over the seat of the bike, trying to let the familiar feeling soothe me.

Extending a hand to Quinn, I watch her examine my scarred skin. Well, I assume she’s looking at my scars but it’s difficult to tell with the visor pulled down. My hand doesn’t shake, and I allow her to take her fill, helping her onto the seat behind me when she finally grasps it. She rests her feet on the pegs and I’m suddenly all too aware of how her body is pressed against mine. I can tell she’s experiencing something similar in the way that she tries to sit back as far as she can but as soon as the motorcycle roars to life beneath my fingers she’s squeaking, winding her hands around my waist and holding onto me for dear life.

Quinn’s touch sets me on fucking fire.

Fuck, I can feel each and every single one of her fingers where they’re pressing into my abdomen, the hot feeling of her thighs flanking me is like a brand to my sides. I peer at her over my shoulder and all I can think is shit, shit shit…I am so fucked.

The visor prevents me from looking into those perfect hazel eyes that I’m suddenly yearning to see. Her body is rigid with tension, probably because of our close proximity. We aren’t friends, I have to remind myself, turning back around and shoving the kickstand up. It’s only a ride home and then we’ll go back to hating each other, just like it’s supposed to be.

My motorcycle jerks into motion and the jolt sends Quinn’s body sliding closer to mine. Every inch of her is wet, but she’s incredibly warm. Her arms tighten around my waist as I pull into the street, taking it at a slow pace since the rain is hitting me directly in the eyes.

I haven’t ridden in these conditions since I got my first bike and was stupid enough to drive it everywhere, all the time. I thought I was invincible, and I was addicted to the feeling of the wind against my body, like I was flying down roads without a care in the world. Thankfully, I smartened up before the accident.

I shove the harrowing night from my mind, focusing on the road ahead. I don’t accelerate too fast, avoiding the puddles gathering in the roads so we don’t slip. I know the way to the apartment like the back of my hand and I’m careful with the precious cargo holding onto me for dear life. It’s hard to focus when Quinn’s hips are pressed against mine like this, clenching when I take a turn. It’s hard not to think about her thighs squeezing around me, making me wonder how hard she’d hold onto me if I was plowing my cock into her.

Rain beats down on the both of us but the warmth of her body keeps me from completely freezing my ass off. I’m soaked through, but it doesn’t register, especially not when her fingers accidentally skate under the hem of my shirt when I take the last turn to our apartments, dancing against the skin of my stomach.

My entire world fucking flips.

The rear tire skids, slipping on the wet asphalt. Quinn gasps, clutching onto me for dear life. My heart spikes painfully in my chest as I act quickly to right the bike, shifting with it and keeping it from falling over. My heart hammers in my chest and my breathing turns ragged as I’m transported back two years ago when I had been going at much faster speeds but hadn’t been able to control my motorcycle, resulting in the worst accident of my life.

I sense the tension in Quinn’s body and it keeps me from reliving that nightmare. Her thighs are trembling around me and I know this has given her a good scare. Now that the bike is one again steady, I slow down even more, slipping one hand down to give her thigh a quick pat and a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance for her as much as it is for me.

Her arms locked around my waist tighten in response.

I roll to a stop in my usual spot, the same one where I’d blocked her moving truck in the first day we met. The tree offers little cover, but the rain is lighter than it was when we left campus.

Right now, Quinn doesn’t seem to care about anything other than getting out of the blasted weather. I cut the engine and swing off the motorcycle, helping her next. I drop her hand as soon as she has her footing and we’re racing toward the building, ducking inside as I hold the door open for her.

She grunts, trying to pry the helmet from her drenched head. I laugh softly, helping her undo the straps. When she slips from the helmet, poor Quinn looks like a soaked cat.

Her blonde hair is plastered to her head. Her skin is rosy and there’s mascara running down her cheeks but I refrain from mentioning it because of the way she’s looking up at me. I don’t want to break whatever this peace is right now. I want to revel in it.

“Thank you,” Quinn says softly. She wrings her fingers together and I offer a nod in response. She looks like she wants to say more but she doesn’t, so I lead her toward the elevator. She needs a warm shower for sure.

For once, the elevator is on the floor I need it to be on and it opens with a screech. Quinn and I cringe before stepping inside. I punch the button to the fourth floor with my knuckle and the doors slide shut, encapsulating us in silence once again.

Until the elevator starts climbing upwards with a jarring groan, at least.

It sounds horrendous, like the ghosts of tenants past screeching for help. There’s a chill inside that isn’t because of the silence between us, prickling the hairs at the nape of my neck. It’s awkward, and even if we were verbally sparring right now, I think it would be better than the complete silence we’re standing here in.

The ascent to the fourth floor is a long one, but neither of us break the quiet. The events of the day hit me full force: the lack of time I’ve had to practice my tattooing lately is catching up to me, my schedule is quickly filling up with assignments and artwork for an exhibition I’m preparing for at a local gallery. I have a few more pieces to finish up for that in the next coming weeks as well, which will put my search for an apprenticeship on hold.

The soft protest of Quinn’s stomach rumbling gathers my attention. She’s blushing hard but refuses to look my way, content with staring at the glowing floor button as we rise.

I bet she’s silently cursing the elevator to hurry up right now.

Finally, the doors open and Quinn almost sprints to her door. I catch up within strides because my legs are longer than hers, but I keep a few feet behind because whatever magical tension from the metal box from hell has followed the us into the hall.

She shoves her key into the lock before turning to face me, speaking hastily as she twists. “Thank you again, Knox.”

Before I can respond, she’s shoving her shoulder into the door. It gives easily, but the loud moan that fills the hall as soon as it cracks has the both of our eyes widening.

“Oh God, Ace!”

“Holyfuckingshit,” Quinn exhales in a single breath, and I thought that the elevator ride up was the most awkward part of tonight.

Seeing Rory and Ace going at it on her couch is definitely not something I was prepared for.