I sincerely disliked Quincey during the first week of being "forced" to hang out with him. But that only lasted a week, because after the ladybird incident, I kind of warmed up to him. Actually, my mind was filled with him. Who knew such a rough, rude guy, could turn out to be so gentle and sweet? I went back home that day thinking about Quincey, about the way he held my hand, about the way he cheered me up. I wanted to see him again, but I didn't know how to act. Did our special moment together mean we were now on good terms, or would we go back to ignoring each other?
I didn't want to fight anymore, all I wanted was for that tall strong boy to be by my side, to hold my hand and take me places.
"No wonder Tiffany spent so much time with him," I chortled once I was alone in my room, changing my clothes. Then suddenly something popped up in my mind, a thought that would be confirmed later on. "Could it be that she... likes him?" I stopped to think for a bit. "Why else would she sneak around to spend time with him? Does she... Nah," my mind couldn't paint the picture. "She'd tell me if that was the case."
I kept on humming as I shook of the idea of Tiffany x Quincey. But it lingered at the back of my mind as I remembered all the times she talked passionately about him.
The next day, I came to the gym early for my dance session. I had already informed my parents that I was going to stop the dance lessons. They didn't pressure me because they knew why I made that decision.
I loved my dance teacher, Miss Owen, she made me fall in love with dancing. I looked up to her so much, so on the day I accidentally learned about her affair with my uncle, I was heartbroken. I couldn't believe it, he was my favorite uncle, someone I trusted. She was way too young for him, yet, he left his wife and kids to be with her. Miss Owen tried to talk to me, to convince me not to stop, but I didn't give her the time of day. Taking dance lessons would do nothing more than remind me of that betrayal, so I decided to cut Miss Owen off completely and get rid of anything that reminded me of her.
I came early to the studio so that I could be alone. It was actually not easy for me to let go of the passion that had grown in me, which is why I gave myself a countdown, to ease my way out of it. By the end of that week, it would be my last dance session. It wasn't a class, because I came earlier so as not to cross paths with Miss Owen and have a little dance "session" of my own.
Before, I was indifferent to the fact that Quincey and I were attending the same gym. However, when I came in that morning, even though it was early, I hoped I would be able to at least cross paths with him.
I stretched to prepare myself for my session. Once I was ready I went ahead to put on the music. Looking at myself in the wide mirror, I felt fresh energy flow through me.
In the gym, our dance studio was at ground floor while the boxing and bodybuilding area was at the floor above us. Instead of having a private room with full brick walls, we had one with a clear glass as the top half. So anyone entering the gym would see us. I guess the idea was for people to either admire our dancing, cheer us on or just make fun. Either way I remember I never liked it, because it was distracting when the boys tapped on the glass trying to draw our attention.
But that day, I wanted to give a big hug to whoever it was that had the brilliant idea, because, just as I had done a few moves, I saw with the corner of my eye someone approach the clear glass. My heart skipped a bit hoping it was who I thought, no one else would be around at that time. I did my first pirouette slowly, to discretely confirm who it was. Sure enough, it was the one I hoped for, Quincey.
He leaned on the glass and watched as I danced. My heart was racing and I knew it was not because of the physical effort. Quincey's unwavering eyes on me, made me feel like I was floating as I moved in sync with the music. Even though he was far I could feel the intensity of his gaze. I wanted to give him my best performance. I knew I was good at pirouettes, so I did a lot of them, I let my body move to the music remembering all of Miss Owen's little tips to make my performance perfect. I added in some pas chassé, then ended everything with a splits.
Was I good? Did he like it? Is he still there? My mind didn't even give my body a second to rest before filling up with questions. I tried to control my breathing so as to still look cute, not giving in to the urge to start huffing and puffing. I stood up and raised my eyes to where he was. I got the chance to see his smile again. He clapped for me, and it felt great. I didn't bother to ask myself why recognition from him mattered, why it felt different than from others, I simply responded with a curtsy.
We laughed though we didn't hear each other, then with his sports bag swung across his chest he headed to his destination. I wondered if he came earlier because he knew I would be there or if it was just a coincidence.
I stayed a little longer in the dance room perfecting my moves till it was about time for the girls' lesson to start. Before going back home, I tip toed to Quincey's area just to have a peek at what he was doing. He watched me, so it was only fair that I got to do the same even for a bit.
The door was opened when I got there, so I casually walked in and there he was, shadow boxing, dodging and throwing jabs at an invisible partner while maintaining his bounce. Even at thirteen he already looked like a real professional. He was drenched in sweat but he didn't seem to notice. All I could think of as I watched him, was how cool he looked throwing those snap punches in his black sleeveless hoodie.
He was so immersed in what he was doing, I didn't think he noticed I was there. But he suddenly stopped then turned to look at me. Unlike me, he didn't try to control his heavy breathing, his chest moved up and down as he panted. Our gaze locked for a moment before his eyes pulled away to look at his bag on the bench next to me, then look back at me. I turned to it and saw that among other things a bottle of water and a white towel stood out from the bag. I guessed that's what he was asking for, so I took them to him.
I didn't even hesitate, or think for one moment that it was not my job to serve him, it's not like I'm his maid. But, I just wanted to do it.
I walked up to him, and first handed him the towel. He closed the little gap I left between us, but he didn't take the towel from me.
"W-what?" I stuttered feeling myself getting sucked into the mood he was creating between us. "Isn't this um... what you wanted?"
"It is," a side smile curved his lips as he looked at me with a glint in his eye. "Thank you."
"Whatever," I put the towel over his face scolding myself for getting shy because of two simple words.
He chuckled as he removed it, then proceeded to dry himself off. Once he was done I gave him the bottle of water and his fingers grazed mine as he took it.
Before I could ponder on whether or not it was a deliberate touch, our time was cut short. I heard murmurs in the corridor, the others had arrived which meant it was my cue to leave. I waved at Quincey once I reached the door, then he smiled again and waved back at me.
We hadn't said much to each other, yet I felt like it was more than enough. Words just didn't seem to be able to convey our emotions. There was this bizarre, new atmosphere between us, and we were trying to figure it out.
The next day, and the day after that, the same thing happened. I danced, he watched me, gave me a thumbs up, we laughed, and before leaving, I went to see him box. However, on the fourth day of what had almost become our routine, I didn't feel as good as the first because it was my last day at the gym according to my countdown. I knew I would get to see him elsewhere, but I liked our morning secret meetings.
Before leaving I went to see him one last time. But he wasn't there.
"Hmm? Where did he go?" I muttered disappointed.
I let my bag slide down to the floor as my eyes were drawn to something interesting, Quincey's boxing gloves. I looked around to be sure that there was no one, then I sneaked up to them as if they were alive and would run away if they heard me.
"Oooh," I shivered as I put them on.
I bumped my fists together feeling tough. Then I started punching the air while making karate noises. I tried the bouncing, even though I knew I was doing it wrong, I was having so much fun. However, my ridiculous spectacle didn't last long.
"What a sight," I heard a familiar voice behind me.
I had been caught red-handed. Before I could turn around to see his face, Quincey gripped my two wrists, and I had to deliberately remind myself to breathe as I felt his chest on my back. He lifted my left fist to stay vertically about six inches in front of my face at eye level, then he moved my right fist to rest beside my chin.
"Like this," he whispered.
I felt his breath on my ear indicating that his face was close to mine. But I didn't really realize how close he was until I turned around and our lips almost touched. I gasped, but he didn't even flinch. He didn't move away. At that point, only with a magnifying glass could you see that our lips were actually not touching.
"Um...," I freed myself from him and stepped back. "Sorry," I said as I removed the gloves then awkwardly placed them on his chest. "I was er... It's just... Y-you look really cool when you box, that's why I like watching you, so I... wanted to..."
When I heard what I said, I felt my cheeks burn. I ran out of there faster than a cheetah, leaving Quincey in disarray. I was pretty sure he had never met someone as weird as me. What came over me to blurt out something so cringe worthy?
By the time I got home, my heart was beating out of my chest, both because of the physical effort and the memory of Quincey's face so close to mine.
I didn't hear dad greet me when I entered the house. My legs led me straight to my room to hide under my cover determined to come out only when Quincey forgot my face. I stayed there for a while tossing and turning.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I kept muttering to myself under my quilt. "Why did I say that?"
About twenty minutes later, as I was still praying for the world to end, I heard a knock on my door. I wondered who it could be, because mum was not around, and I had just heard dad leave. I didn't answer, so the person knocked again.
"Who is it?" I asked.
No response. I started to panic, I knew it couldn't be Tiffany, she was supposed to be at the gym with Quincey.
"Go away," I said as I stood up to look for something as dangerous as a baseball bat.
"Open the door," a voice spoke, "it's me."
"Huh?"
I walked to the door, gripped the handle, then opened it a little, enough to verify the identity of the person who spoke to me. I had to blink a few times because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.
"Quincey?"
"Shannon."
"What are you doing here?" I hid behind the door like I was naked.
"Open the door," he said.
"Why?"
"I have something for you."
I wondered for a moment if it was a trick, but he seemed serious. I opened the door and he stretched out a familiar pink and black sport bag to me.
"My bag!" I took it from him. "Why do you have it?"
"You forgot it at the gym when you ran off."
"Ah," I lowered my eyes.
"Your dad let me in before he left," he explained.
I didn't react, concentrated on cursing all scientists for not doing anything about the invention of a time machine, or at least something that could erase a memory. Quincey raised my chin with his index finger, so I focused on him again. He didn't say anything, he just raised my head up for our eyes to meet.
"You... you could have given it to Tiffany," I said playing with the handle of the bag. "I see her later anyway. There was no need to come all the way."
"I wanted to bring it to you."
"Oh, O-OK."
He took in a deep breath before he spoke again.
"Shannon, I'm going to be away for a while."
"Huh?"
"Holidays with my family."
"Oh... I see. That's... good." I tried not to allow the stinging sensation inside me to show on my face. "How long is a while?"
"One month."
I lowered my eyes again, unhappy with the news.
"There's nothing I can do about it," he said.
I nodded, unable to find anything to say. He didn't say anymore either, then turned on his heels to leave.
"Wait!" I dropped my bag then rushed out of my room. "Um... Wh-when are you... coming back?"
The sound of my voice decreased because my question was ludicrous as he had already answered it a few seconds earlier, but I didn't want him to leave so soon. That was my desperate attempt to hold him back a little longer. He smiled, then came back to my front and brought out a lollipop from the pocket of his hoodie. He handed the strawberry sweet to me, however, I didn't take it.
"You don't want it?" Quincey asked.
"I do."
"Well," he wiggled the snack in front of my eyes.
I looked at it, then raised my eyes up back at him. He furrowed his brows in confusion, so I cocked my head to the side and offered him a smile. He let out a little chuckle, slightly shaking his head as he unwrapped the lollipop for me, understanding what I wanted.
"You're something else Shannon Dugray," he set the sweet on my lips. "I'll be back in a month."
I simply nodded unable to talk as he hushed me. His eyes lingered on my lips barely hidden behind the sweet. The rhythm of my heart accelerated while he examined them. I felt my cheeks warm up again as I went back to the moment he was probably thinking of.
"I have to go," Quincey said bringing us back to reality.
"Hmm?"
He repeated himself believing that I didn't hear him. Once the flavor of the strawberry lollipop was dancing with my taste buds, Quincey hurried back to the gym where Tiffany was waiting for him and for a few seconds I wished I was her, so I'd be the one he was running to.
I went back inside my room and laid on my bed looking at the ceiling. I tried to recall the taste of all the sweets I had had in my life. No matter how much I thought of it, none of them tasted as good as the one I was enjoying. The more I savored the strawberry flavor the more my brain associated that taste to pleasure. Since then anytime I had anything strawberry I was brought back to that moment, one of the happiest, perfect moments of my life. Since then, strawberry is the only flavor I've ever liked.
Once I had overcome the sorrow of finishing the lollipop, I got up from my bed to empty my sport bag. The first thing I saw when I unzipped the bag was a note from the boy that had been making me smile all week. It may be ridiculous but I still have it hidden in my diary to this day. It was written neatly on a little piece of paper: "You're pretty cool too."
I couldn't hold it in, a little squeal escaped. It was so unexpected, very unlike him to be so sweet. I wondered why I didn't see it there before. I wondered if the mean rude guy he appeared to be the first time we met was nothing more that an illusion I created because I was so angry at him for monopolizing Tiffany's time.
Tiffany, the girl he was with 24/7, the one he rushed to, the one he held on to like she was his life. Tiffany, my best friend.
"Why did he have to go to her?"
The green eyed monster awoke in me.