Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (18 page)

“That’s okay. I just wanted you to know that I have them in case you want them back,” she says. “I could mail them to you if you want me to.”

“No, hold on to them.” I grab a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and head for the shower, needing to get space from the crystal. Plus, the walk home was freezing and I need to thaw out, wash the crappy day off me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I push open the bathroom door and shut it behind me, releasing a breath of relief at the distance. I didn’t even realize what it was doing to my body and mind just having it on me. So heavy and weighted. Such a burden.

I turn on the faucet water, letting it warm up, then unbutton my pants. I decide to get rid of the crystal when I get out of the shower. Then I won’t choose the empty path.

“What’s that noise?” Nova asks.

“I turned the shower on,” I tell her, even though I don’t really want to get off the phone with her. Just talking to her… well, I’ve calmed down a lot. “I was outside working and I’m frozen to the bone and filthy.”

“Oh.” She pauses, then asks, “Are you going to talk to me while you take a shower?”

I’m unzipping my pants but pause, trying to decipher if there’s a hidden meaning to her words. If she’s just asking a simple question or trying to be dirty with me. She never usually is, so I don’t have a clue how to read her. “Do you want me to keep talking to you?”

She wavers with uncertainty. “Well, I don’t want to stop talking to you, so…”

I still can’t read her at all. “But the phone will get wet.”

“Put it on speakerphone and set it close to the shower,” she suggests, and I can detect the slightest bit of nervousness in her voice, which makes me wonder what she’s thinking. “And turn the volume all the way up.”

“But won’t it be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“Because I’d be… taking a shower while we were talking.”

“Yeah, so?” The nervousness in her voice is more attractive to me than it should be.

I’m definitely starting to get the impression that she’s not just being naïve about the situation. That she knows exactly what she’s doing and is enjoying herself. I hesitate. I know I’m being a fucking pussy about it, which is weird because I’ve slept with a lot of women over the last couple of years. But I barely knew any of them and there was no emotional connection. Plus, I was always either drunk or high. Being sober is different because I
can
feel. Everything. And the whole point to having sex, at least in the past, was to numb myself. Plus, I just brought drugs home with me, which makes me feel like a dick because she doesn’t know that.

“But I can let you go if you want me to,” she says, almost saddened.

It’s her sadness that makes me say what I say next. “No, it’s fine… we can keep talking.” I start to get undressed. “Tell me more about your band,” I say, hoping to sidetrack myself from how unsteady I feel at the moment, wobbling on the tightrope, about to fall.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” she replies. “It’s just three guys and myself hanging out in a garage most of the time.”

“It sounds like I should be jealous.” I shuck off my shirt while holding the phone, which is difficult, but I manage to get it done.

“Of the band? Nah, they’re harmless. Besides, I think they think of me as one of the guys.”

“I doubt that.” I set the phone down on the countertop beside the shower, then turn up the volume.

“If you say so,” she says with uncertainty. “But anyway. There is something pretty cool happening.”

“And what’s that?” I raise my voice as I pull the shower curtain back.

“We got our very first gig,” she tells me as I step into the shower. Her voice fades a little but I can still hear her, even when I step under the stream of water. “And I’m not talking about playing at some club because it’s open band night. I’m talking about opening for another band because we were chosen to. How cool is that?” She sounds so happy.

I smile as I let the water run over my body. “Pretty fucking cool.” I rub the water away from my eyes. “Who’s the band?”

“Peaceful Injustice.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Yeah, they’re not that well known, but I love them. In fact, I have a huge band crush on them.”

I reach for the soap, her comment deflating my mood. “Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Nah. I promise you have nothing to worry about.” Silence takes over the line, but I can hear her softly breathing if I strain my ears and listen. “What are you doing right now?”

I pause, so many dirty responses racing through my mind I can’t even think straight. “Taking a shower.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” She trails off, breathing profusely. “But what exactly are you doing at this very moment?” She sounds really fascinated, which makes me wonder what she’s thinking.

I think about telling her that I’m touching myself and thinking about her. Starting something up because it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any. God, just thinking about it turns me on, but at the same time, do I want to go there yet? “I’m not sure…”

“You’re not sure what you’re doing?’ She sounds lost.

After some more internal conflict, I decide to just spit out what’s floating around in my head. “Nova, I’m picking up this vibe from you and I’m not sure but… it sounds like…” I swipe my hand across my face, wiping the water away. “It sounds like you’re trying to have phone sex.” And just like that I’ve changed everything and I have no idea how it even happened. One minute I’m freaking out, and the next I’m calmed down and all I can think about is her.

She doesn’t respond right away and I worry I’ve read her wrong.

“Jesus, I didn’t mean that,” I say, feeling like a moron. “Please, just forget about it. Please.”

“I don’t want to forget about it.” Her voice is uneven. Scared. Nervous. All of her insecurities are showing. “I just don’t know what to say… I’m not an expert at this.”

“At phone sex?” There’s a hint of amusement in my voice that accidentally slips out.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me.” She tries to sound offended, but I can tell she’s on the verge of laughing. “I’m in no way an expert at this… any of this, actually. The last time I came close to even doing anything with a guy was… well, with you, at the lake.”

She’s being so honest it shocks me. But what really shocks me is that she hasn’t been with anyone else since then, which would also mean she’s still a virgin. That no guy has touched her the way I did since we made out in the lake. It makes me feel twistedly happy, but at the same time sad, because that isn’t the best memory in the world. For her or for me.

“I’m not sure what to say,” I tell her as I rinse my face off in the water.

“Do you think I’m a freak?” she asks. “Because I haven’t done anything.”

“Not at all. I don’t even think I could ever think of you as a freak, no matter how goofy you got.”

“Then what do you think of me?” The nervousness in her voice reemerges and I think it’s a signal that she wants to head down that road, which makes me both wary and eager. Makes me want to hang up, but at the same time push the conversation further. This is Nova. If there’s anyone in the world I’d want to be doing stuff with sober, it’s her. Yeah, I probably don’t deserve her, but I want her. So fucking badly.

I shut my eyes and picture the many things she could be doing right now. “You want to know what I think of you?”

“Yes, please.”

I take a deep breath. “That you’re the most amazing person that I’ve ever met.” My voice cracks and I cough to cover it up. “That you’re nice, caring, way too perfect to be with me.” I put my hands up on the wall and lower my head, letting the water run over my body. “That you’re sexy as hell, from your freckles to your long legs… I can still remember how fucking amazing it was to have those legs wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and I can tell she likes what I’m saying, so I keep going, despite how unfamiliar it is.

“Absolutely,” I assure her, with a hint of nervousness in my voice. “Even though I haven’t really touched you in a year—not the way that I want to, anyway—I can still remember how perfect it felt to run my hands all over your body… kiss you…” I shut my eyes tightly as my heart pounds deafeningly inside my chest. “Slip my fingers inside you.” I grip the tile wall for support, because it feels like I’m falling into a unknown place, one where I’ve never been, but one I want to keep falling into despite where I might end up.

“Would you do it to me if you were here?” she asks timidly. “Touch me like that, I mean.”

“Yes,” I say in a low, husky tone that surprises me. “God, I would do more than that if you were here.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Her voice is a little off pitch, but in the most adorable way ever.

Jesus, she’s killing me. “Like kiss you while… I slip inside of you,” I say and she starts to breathe heavily. I want to keep going, but at the same time, there’s a voice in the back of my head telling me it’s wrong. Not like this. Not over the phone. Not when I just hid a bag of crystal underneath my mattress.

Right and wrong. Which one is right? Which one is wrong? How much do I care for her? A lot. More than a lot. I care for her so much that I want everything to be perfect when we finally do get together, so even though I’ve got the hugest hard-on, I force myself to step away and wait for the perfect moment to continue this.

“Nova, I… I think we should slow things down a little.” I’m one step away from touching myself and it’s almost physically impossible to pull my hand away, but I still manage to.

“Oh, okay.” Her voice falters and I feel like the biggest ass that’s ever existed.

I push back from the wall and turn the shower off, gradually turning the knob so that for a brief moment I get sprayed by icy-cold water to help cool me off and settle me down. “Hey, I’m getting out and I wanted to talk to you about something.” I pull the shower curtain back and step out, reaching for a towel. “Something pretty important.”

“Sure. What’s up?” She’s working hard to hide her disappointment, which makes it harder to dry off and start getting dressed.

“It’s actually about something I did,” I say, tugging a T-shirt over my head. “But give me a second because I want to tell you when I’m in my room.” As I slip into my jeans, I think about which thing I’m going to tell her. That I managed to take one photo of Lexi down or about what I have underneath my mattress. If I can confess that to her, I know I’ll be able to get rid of it. I just have to decide if I want to.

I go into my room, barefoot, my hair damp, and shut the door behind me. I turn and look at the spot on the wall where the photo of Lexi was, so lonely, surrounded by sketches and photos. Then I look down at my unmade bed, deciding. Which path do I want to go down here?

“I took down something from my wall today.” I sink down onto my bed and lower my head, pressing my fingertips to the bridge of my nose as I squeeze my eyes shut. “A picture of Lexi.” It’s excruciating to say it, blinding pain within my skull and heart, but at the same time I feel lighter.

“Oh my God, Quinton,” she says with empathy in her voice. “Are you okay? Jesus, if I would have known I wouldn’t have…” She trails off, feeling guilty.

“It’s okay, Nova. I’m okay.” I look back up and skim around the four walls of my bedroom. “I’ve still got a ways to go, too… there are still a lot of photos and pictures up.”

“But that’s a step in the right direction and each time it’ll get easier. I promise.”

“I hope so,” I tell her, then slide to the floor and kneel down at the side of my bed. “I have to tell you something else, but it’s not good—it’s bad.” Before I can chicken out, I hurry and sputter, “Someone gave me a bag of meth today and I have it underneath my mattress.” As soon as I say it, I wonder why the hell I thought this was a good idea, throwing this on her. I need to stop relying on her so much—need to stand on my own two feet.

I’m about to hang up, because really it’s the only choice, but then she says, “Did you do any of it?”

“No.” My voice shakes as I grip the side of the mattress and battle to breathe evenly.

“Do you want to?” she asks calmly.

“Yes.” My voice is full of desperation.

“Are you… are you going to?” There’s a hint of worry in her tone.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I want to, but I also want to throw it away.”

“Then throw it away,” she says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.

“I don’t think I can.” My hands quiver just at the thought of it and I rest my forehead on the mattress, still on my knees “It feels fucking impossible.”

“Yes, you can.” She sounds so certain and I have no idea how she’s doing it—managing to sound so calm when I know she can’t be. “Just take it and dump it down the toilet. You can do this. I know you can.”

“You have too much faith in me,” I say, slipping my fingers between the bed and the mattress, fighting the urge to hang up on her and turn to what’s only inches away from my fingertips.

“No, I have the right amount,” she replies. “Now let me know when you have it and you’re headed to the bathroom. And don’t hang up on me.” It’s like she can read my mind.

I sit there forever, going back and forth with what I want and need to do. At one point I grab the bag of crystal and put it back. Then pull it out again and open it, staring at the white crystals so close I can almost taste them. But I can also hear Nova breathing on the other end. Soft and full of concern. Acting calm, when I’m sure she’s freaking out. I want to throw them away just for her, but I have to wonder if it’s possible to care for someone so much that I’d give this up. Do I care for her that much?

After a lot of deliberating, I come to one simple answer.

Yes. I care about her that much.

I get to my feet and make my way to the bathroom, not speaking. Then I lift up the toilet seat and, shutting my eyes, I tip the bag over, pour the contents into the water, and flush them down.

“Did you do it?” Nova asks at the sound of the flushing.

I press my lips together, resting back against the bathroom wall, realizing how sweaty I am and how much I’m gasping for air. “I did.”

“See, I knew you could do it,” she says with relief in her voice. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”