Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s locked.
What’s going on?
Did Quill just leave me to be found by the people who want me dead? Or was he taken himself?
That thought is a lot more terrifying, oddly, and I grab the doorknob and start to rattle it as hard as I can. Then I heave my entire weight against it, even though I already know it’s useless. There’s no way I could ever break it down.
But I still ram my body hard into it, until suddenly it gives way, and I’m ramming into… someone’s chest instead.
“Fuck!” growls a voice, as I feel burning hot liquid splash down.
At once a hand grabs my hair and yanks me back, and I only get a few drops on myself. The rest lands on… Quill.
Thank fucking God.I try to rush to him, but he’s still holding me back by my hair. My eyes widen as I realize he’s gotten blackcoffee all down his front.
By the look on his face, I’m guessing it wasn’t exactly at room temperature.
“Did it burn you?” I breathe.
He’s still holding me by my hair, the pained look in his face quickly hidden under an annoyed one. “It’s fine,” he says at last.
But through the now-transparent shirt, his chest with its tattoos I saw yesterday for the first time is definitely growing red.
“You should put water on that,” I say, aware that he’s still holding me by my hair. I try to take a step toward him and it feels like my hair is about to get ripped out by the roots, because he doesn’t loosen his hold. “Lukewarm water first, then slowly make it colder and colder, until it’s freezing…”
“Piper. I said it’s fine.”
“But the longer the coffee is on your skin,” I protest, my eyes watering from how roughly he’s holding my hair, “the more it’s burning you! You’re still being burned as we speak!”
“Piper.”
“Maybe we have a first-aid kit with cream? I think aloe vera works well with burns. Let me look.”
“PIPER! Are you going to shut up or do I need to stuff your mouth with my cock?”
I freeze at the crude harsh language. I spent all day yesterday trying to rile him up, and though after a while it turned into me hoping he’d give me a punishment fuck, it started out with me trying to find the old Quill in him. The cruel Quill of these past few years, so I could remember exactly why I needed to keep up a wall between us.
But yesterday, no matter how annoying I was, he never did anything but show me a tender side of him that I had all but forgotten even existed.
And now, in this first moment that I show him I care, he turnsright back into the cruel, hateful Quill that every part of me has been telling me to run far away from.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging at my eyes.
He’s suddenly looking just as miserable as I feel. “No.I’msorry.” He’s so gentle as he lets go of my hair that some part of me hopes I just dreamed this. Only I know I didn’t.
“I’ve had a rough night,” he mumbles, grabbing the suitcase. “There’s your breakfast. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
He walks toward the door, grabbing the suitcase. I call out to him just before he opens it, and he waits stiffly.
“Quill… is it safe for me? To be all alone here?”
Secretly, I’m hoping he’ll say that I’m right, that it isn’t, and stay. But instead, he mutters, “I’m right out front. It’s fine.”
With that, he closes the door, leaving me with a lump in my throat that makes breakfast feel very unappetizing.
It’s an everything bagel with cream cheese and a tall chai latte, which would definitely be my dream way of starting the day at any other time. But I’ve never felt less hungry.
I hurry to the sink, brush my teeth, scrub my face, and don’t even try to tame my curls. I shove them into a ponytail and gather up the toiletries. I take the chai latte in one hand and the paper bag with the breakfast in the other, in case Quill wants it.
