roommates

eight

It only took three days for things to go to shit.

Quinn was laying in bed, staring at her ceiling. All she could do was sit and think about her life. It was fucking insane, living with her best friends, having her dream career, and being tragically in love with the boy who sleeps down the hall.

Except he wasn't sleeping. He was standing outside her door, willing himself not to knock.

Quinn sensed someone outside her door, "Hello?" She sat up, sliding her legs out from the bed and walking to her door.

"Shit," she heard Clay mumbling to himself, but she couldn't make out all the words. When Quinn opened the door Clay was standing there, looking at his hands, and blinking hard. When he noticed the door was opened, he looked up and softened.

"Clay?" Quinn leaned against her door, "What are you doing here, it's like one in the morning."

"Can I come in?" He looked nervous again, and there was a look in his eyes that screamed drunk. Quinn was trying to close him out of the room, she knew if he came in right now, he wouldn't leave. And then, it would be a whole thing in the morning.

"Clay it's late, and you're drunk," Quinn spelled it out like it wasn't obvious to him.

"Can I come in, I want to talk to you," He was a little more persistent, and his words were a little slurred.

Quinn took a deep breath, she could handle this. She's dealt with a drunk Clay before. She stepped aside and let him in. He immediately scooped her into a hug. Quinn was a little shocked by this, it was a different kind of hug than the ones she had been receiving from him lately. He had swept her off her feet, and completely enclosed her in his embrace. She felt safe, even if he was a little drunk, his hug was a promise to protect her. Still it knocked the air out of her lungs, because it was so sudden. Hearing this, Clay almost dropped her.

"Am I hurting you?" His grip loosened and his face dropped, part of him was aware that he was out of it. Although Quinn doubted that he would remember this tomorrow.

"No, you're okay," Quinn assured him and sat on her bed. She knew she was going to be crying after this, "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Us." He said it like there wasn't a girl in his phone who hated Quinn.

"There is no us, Clay," Quinn was stern, she wasn't gonna let him do this to her, "No."

"Quinn that's not fair," Clay persevered, sitting down next to her on the bed, "There could be."

"Clay, No!" Quinn stood up quickly, stepping back from him. This couldn't be happening.

"Why not?" Clay seemed distraught, how drunk was he, and how'd he get it?

"Clay you have a girlfriend," Quinn pointed out as if she was speaking to a child, "Any hope that you had for us have to go. I can't do this right now." Quinn covered her eyes with her hands, she was getting too stressed out, "Where's Nick?"

"You know, every time something bad happens you ask Nick for help, and you never ask me, why is that?" Clay sounded defensive, was he really trying to start an argument?

"Because he isn't drunk," Quinn spat back, full attitude, "and he's not confessing his fucked up feelings for me."

"So it's wrong for me to tell you this?" Clay stood up, crossing his arms. This was like dealing with a child.

"When you have a girlfriend? Yeah it is." Quinn was trying not to raise her voice, but it was getting difficult as her frustration continued.

"Quinn, I don't think you understand," Clay dropped all frustration in his tone and it was soft again, "I don't love her."