WITHOUT YOU (STRIPPED) by Brooklyn Skye Read Free Book Online Page B

it true? You have a girlfriend?”
    I laugh. “I thought you would’ve latched on to the word ‘sort of’ and run with it.”
    She crosses her legs and bounces one bare foot against the other, her head tilted. “I’m not stupid. When a guy says they sort of have a girlfriend it means they do. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it or maybe the relationship is struggling…” Her words trail into a whisper, and her eyes meet mine. “Which is it for you?”
    I don’t say anything because explaining the internship and Quinn’s opinion about it would numb the warm buzz coursing through me. After a beat of a moment, Candace hops off the desk and approaches me.
    “Did you two have a fight?” She kneels on the floor and rests her hands on my knees.
    “Guess you could call it that.”
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “Not really.”
    Ever so slightly, she inches forward, her glassy gaze dipping to my mouth then back up. “Do you want me to distract you for a little while?” She captures her metal tongue ring between her teeth and waits.
    And waits.
    My thoughts turn into jack rabbits—hard to predict which way they’re going to move and therefore impossible to catch. Would my decision be easier if I didn’t love Quinn? Would I already be packing my bags? I think that answer’s obvious. But what if I pushed Quinn away? Made her hate me instead of love me? Would I then be able to leave her without looking back? Have no regrets like Professor Williams? 
    Without thinking, my eyes settle on the giant mounds of flesh spilling out of Candace’s sheer, tight tank top and it must’ve been enough of an answer because before I know it her lips are on mine, her tongue and that barbell quick and insistent on distracting tonight.
    She scrambles on top of me, pinning me to the chair with her legs on either side of me, and I open my mouth to let her in. The taste of sour vodka coats her tongue. Hands slip around my neck and tug at my hair at the same time she grinds the seam of her jeans into mine.
    And I feel nothing.
    No tingles. No rush to my head. No desire to go any further like I would’ve with Quinn.
    “No more,” I say, capturing her wrists in my hands. Quickly, I lift her off me and step out of her reach. “I can’t.”
    She crinkles her nose, smoothing her hair back out of her face. “You can’t? Or you don’t want to?”
    A silent pulse of a moment throbs between us, and her eyes glint in the soupy glow of light spilling from the center of the ceiling.
    “I don’t want to,” I say firmly. “Not with you.”
     
     
     

April 19th
     
     
    One week. It’s been a whole damn week without a single word from Quinn. I understand she needs time, but there’s a fine line between needing to figure out the next move and avoiding because that’s the easier way. My bet is she’s doing the latter.
    I snatch my phone from the desk and text her. Please talk to me. Dinner tonight?
    A good half hour passes. Not even a response. I try again. Come over later? Maybe a movie?
    Her response is almost immediate this time. Busy. Sorry.
    I toss my phone to the foot of my bed, and the ache in my chest tightens. It’s an excuse. I know it like I know my own name. The question is why. Because she doesn’t want me to leave? Or stay because of her?
    I saw the look on her face; under the anger that I was thinking about staying because of her was a trace of fear. For the past few months I’ve been her steady, her rock. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s scared to be alone again. The pressure breeds and builds and, after a few labored breaths, mutates into a stinging sensation. As if I were suddenly wrestling with a porcupine.
    Jesus, is this what it would be like thousands of miles away from Quinn?
    Or am I feeling like this because of what I let happen with Candace last night?
    Because I don’t want Quinn to be scared?
    All of a sudden my phone rings, and I scrub my hand over my face. I’m going to