God I love writing sexual/romantic tension.
By the way, the Craig mentioned in this story is Craig Owens
—
Chapter 8 - Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic
At around two in the morning, I wake up suddenly, my heart pounding and my breathing fast. I was just having a nightmare again, and the images are still fresh in my mind.
But I try not to focus on that right now, because I can hear some thumping and crashing. I rub my eyes and sit up, which is when I see a dark figure, Vic, quickly pacing back and forth in the room.
"Vic?" I say groggily. "What are you doing?"
Vic runs his fingers through his hair, making a noise of frustration. Then he grabs something off of the desk and throws it across the room.
"Vic!" I hiss. "What’s wrong?"
Vic kicks the leg of the desk, then continues pacing, his hands balled up into fists. “Fucking Craig,” he mutters. “Fucking everyone. That’s what’s wrong. The whole fucking world is wrong.”
I climb out of my bed and make my way over to him. “Vic,” I say, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Why are you up?”
Vic bites his lip, his anger starting to fade. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about shit. Sorry for waking you up.”
Before I can say anything, he pushes past me and crawls back into bed, sighing and brushing a few pieces of hair out of his face. He closes his eyes, but I don’t really want to go back to sleep yet. I don’t want to risk falling back into another nightmare. I normally don’t get them often, but then again, I normally don’t fall in love, and that, I think, is what’s causing them.
"Kellin?" Vic whispers, opening his eyes and staring up at me. The anger has completely left them, and now they look kind of sad, almost pleading.
"Yeah?" I whisper back, standing at the edge his bed.
He hesitates. “Uh…actually, never mind.”
But I’m curious now. I lean forward slightly, resting my hand on the sheets next to where he lies. “I, uh…I had another dream,” I admit.
That seems to catch his attention. He looks up at me, concern written all over his features. “Was it about Jordan?”
I shake my head. “Not this time. But it scared the hell out of me.”
After another moment of hesitation, Vic takes my hand in his, glancing away. “Do you want to stay with me?”
I don’t even have to answer. I just climb into the bed with him—slowly, cautiously—and pull the covers over us, ignoring every instinct that tells me how far from safe I’ve gone.
"You know about Jordan," I say, "so are you ever gonna tell me who Craig is?"
Vic wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Maybe,” he replies. “But not tonight.”
I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest. I can hear his heart beating, and I can feel his hand moving around in slow, soothing circles on my back. I don’t know if he realizes he’s doing it, but I’m not complaining. The affection feels nice.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice points out, Yeah, this is totally platonic, Kellin. Absolutely. No romantic feelings whatsoever. I tell it to be quiet and stop getting my hopes up. What do I know about romance anyways?
"Are you okay now?" Vic asks, his voice right next to my ear. "You know, because of your dream?"
I nod, breathing in his warm scent. “Yeah,” I say truthfully, my eyelids fluttering closed. “I’m okay now.”
Then I fall into a light sleep. When I wake up, it’s only four in the morning, and Vic is awake, too—I don’t think he’s slept at all since I found him a couple of hours ago. He’s biting his lip and clenching his jaw slightly, and his fingers are tangled in my hair, gripping it a bit tightly.
"Vic," I whisper, reaching up and resting a hand on his cheek. "Sleep."
"Can’t," he whispers back. "My brain won’t shut the fuck up."
I run my hand through his hair as he blinks a few times and fights just to keep his eyes open. “You’re tired,” I say. “Go to sleep.”
His eyes fall closed as he starts to give in. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “I didn’t want…didn’t want something to happen.”
He stayed awake for me? To make sure I was okay?
"I’m fine," I tell him. "The nightmare’s gone now."
With that, he’s out almost instantly, and then I realize that his lips are only inches from mine. My heart beats faster at the thought of kissing him—and kissing him purely by choice, not for Bree—and I reason that since he’s asleep, he won’t even know it happened.
Do it, Kellin. You know you want to.
No, Kellin! You’re so fucking dumb! What the hell are you thinking?
Now’s your chance, Kell. Go for it.
No. Don’t.
I kiss him softly, pulling away after a few seconds that don’t last anywhere near long enough. Vic’s eyelids flutter slightly, and for a terrifying moment I think I’ve woken him, but then he falls back asleep, leaving me to sigh in relief.
Too far, Kellin. You’ve gone too far.
I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest, thinking back to my nightmare. I was back out in the city, searching for Vic. I found him in the same alley where I found him in real life, except in the dream, he was lying on the ground, dead. Then he disappeared, and so did everything else, until I was completely alone in the world.
But Vic’s arms wrapped around me and his soft breathing in my ear prove that I’m not. He’s here with me, in a hotel room in Colorado Springs. I hold onto that, hold onto him, until I drift asleep again.
—
"She found it," Vic announces the next morning. He’s sitting on the bed with his laptop, checking YouTube.
I get up from where I’ve been lying impatiently on my own bed and glance over his shoulder at the laptop. Sure enough, underneath the video is a single comment.
Great performance, Kell. (Who’s the pretty tan guy? I like him.) For dinner, go to a restaurant with your middle name in it.
I snort. “She called you a pretty tan guy.”
Vic shrugs. “I’ll take it. So what’s your middle name? Kellin-something-Quinn.”
I bite my lip. “Actually, it’s Kellin Quinn Bostwick. Quinn’s my middle name.”
"Oh," Vic says. "Any particular reason you go by that instead of Bostwick?"
I don’t tell him that it’s because “Bostwick” reminds me of my family, and I’d rather not be associated with them. I just say, “I like it better, I guess. I don’t know.” Then, to change the subject, I ask, “What’s your middle name?”
He smiles a little. “Vincent.”
I laugh. “Like Vincent Van Gogh.”
"Yeah, except I’d never be a good artist. I can’t paint a picture to save my life."
"People who play music are artists, too," I tell him, thinking of the melody that caught my attention in the first place. If it weren’t for that, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him while I was walking along the shore.
Vic gives me a thoughtful look. “Hey,” he says slowly. “You sang really well last night.”
"Oh. I, uh, um…thanks," I stutter. "You, too."
"No, I mean really, really well. Your voice is, like…flawless." He stares at me in what looks like amazement, but that can’t be right. There’s nothing amazing about me.
"No, your voice is flawless," I argue.
He shakes his head. “Don’t turn this around on me, Kellin. You’re incredible at singing, and that’s a fact.”
I roll my eyes, looking away in an attempt to hide my blush behind my hair. “Okay, okay. This could go on all day. What’s your point?”
"My point," he says deliberately, "is that I think it’d be fun if you and I did a song together. Like, if we covered something. Just for the hell of it."
For a moment I think I’ve heard him wrong. “Uh, what?”
"Only if you want to, though," he adds. "I just thought, I don’t know, maybe it’d be interesting."
"I’d love to," I say, and I mean it.
His face lights up. “Really?”
"Yeah. We could do it today, maybe."
Without replying, Vic turns back to the computer, typing something in. After a few seconds, he says, “Well, that was easy. I think I know where we’re going.”
I glance over his shoulder. He’s looked up restaurants in Colorado Springs, and across the top of the page, the sixth result is a place called Jack Quinn’s.
"Okay, yeah," I say. "Jack Quinn’s it is."
Vic nods and looks back up at me. “Well, now that we know what we’re doing later,” he says, “you’re right. We could do the song today.”
With that, he sits down on the bed and pulls his guitar out, and we move from there. After a brief debate, we decide to do “Alone Together” by Fall Out Boy (and Vic makes a joke about how much that band has been with us recently). He already knows all the chords and everything, and I know all the lyrics, so it’s not too long before I’m sitting next to him on the bed as he starts to record us with his phone.
At the same time that Vic begins playing, I sing, “I don’t know where you’re going, but do you got room for one more troubled soul?”
Even as he’s playing, Vic watches me the same way he did while we were singing last night. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that I can almost see admiration in his expression. I don’t get it. What is there to admire about me?
When the song is over, Vic just keeps staring at me. I can only look back at him for a few seconds before hastily glancing away. I point at the phone, and Vic nods as if to say, Oh. Right. Then he reaches forward and stops recording.
"That was really good," he says softly. His gaze seems to make its way up and down my body before he glances away and says, "So, Jack Quinn’s, huh?"
—
Surprisingly, the restaurant, which I quickly figure out is an Irish pub, isn’t all that busy. When we sit down in our seats and order our drinks, I realize that we don’t even know what we’re supposed to accomplish here. The clue just said to go here.
Vic must be thinking the same thing, because he turns to me and asks, “What do we do now?”
I shrug. “Just wait, I guess. I don’t know. Maybe we get a free pass with this one.”
We go through almost the entire dinner without anything to tell us how we’re supposed to get this clue. Right as we’re about to stand up and leave, my gaze sweeps across the room one last time when a glint of dark blue hair catches my attention.
Is that…?
The girl spots me in the same instant, and that’s when I recognize her—a girl with black short shorts, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, a pretty pale face, and killer eyebrows. With her badass bright red lips twisted into a smirk, she stands up and walks toward us like she’s on top of the world, something I’ve always respected about her. She doesn’t take shit from anybody—she prefers causing her own.
"Bree."
Vic turns to me. “What?”
"Bree," I repeat, nodding toward her. Vic looks up just as she reaches our table, her gaze flitting over us. I’ll admit—she’s not bad-looking. If I were into girls, I’d probably be swooning over her.
"Ooh, Pretty Tan Guy," she says in a teasing, lilting voice. "You’ve made a reappearance."
Vic raises an eyebrow.
"Just get to the point," I say quickly. "Where’s our clue?"
Bree clicks her tongue. “Patience, Kelly.”
I flip her off.
She snorts. “Now that’s just plain rude. I decided to be nice and give it to you myself. But I have a price.”
Vic narrows his eyes. “So we’re supposed to pay you for it?”
"Well, yes. But not with money." She’s got a clear evil smile now. "With a kiss." She stares right at me.
I just look at her. “What?”
She shrugs. “I might not really like you, Kellin, but your lips look lonely.”
"You can’t make him do that," Vic says coldly, glaring at her.
"He doesn’t have to do anything,” she replies. Then, before I can protest, she pecks me on the lips.
Honestly, it’s not that horrible, but Vic looks like he’s about to bust a vein. I’m not sure why Bree kissing me pisses him off so much. Maybe he’s jealous or something.
But what would he even be jealous of?
Bree smiles. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” Then she tosses a slip of paper onto the table. “Toodaloo, motherfuckers.”
Suddenly, I remember something. “Wait!” I call, standing up and chasing her as she makes her way out of the restaurant. Vic grabs the paper, leaves a tip, and follows me.
When we get outside, Bree spins around. “What?”
"Matty says he never spoke to you," I say. "How did you know where I was?"
She makes a face. “Fine. Two months ago, I may or may not have entered your phone into my ‘Find iPhone’ app.”
She what?
"And how did you do that?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
"I may or may not have snuck into your house."
My jaw drops. “I—you—you’re crazy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It was in the name of this adventure. I had to. By the way, that’s also when I took the spare key to your car, which is how I stole it. I was just waiting for you to leave and go on vacation somewhere, because you need that car to get home. And I knew you would, because I know how much you hate your town. How pop punk of you.”
I just stare at her in awe. “You…have put so much thought into this.”
"Not as much as you’d think, actually," she says casually. "This whole plan was in the back of my mind for years. It was only recently that I decided to put it into action. For a while, I was busy with other things, but then I got bored. I do have a life outside of making yours hell, believe it or not.”
I don’t know what to say.
"But anyways," she says, "I should be going. And you should be reading that clue.”
Then she hops into the passenger seat of a car parked on the side of the road—not mine—and waves at me as a guy in the other seat drives away.
From behind me, Vic points at the car. “That’s…I know that car,” he says, sounding like he just saw a ghost.
I turn to him, narrowing my eyes. “You do?”
He nods, biting his lip.
I shake my head. “It probably just looks similar.”
"No, it’s the same car," he says. "It’s got the same license plate and everything."
"Well…whose car is it?"
He hesitates. “It’s Craig’s car.”
Craig. There’s that name again. “And, uh…who is Craig?”
Vic turns to me, eyes shining and voice cracking. “My…” Then he looks away, down at the ground. “My ex-boyfriend.”
Just from the way he says it, I know. I know that this Craig guy destroyed him, broke his heart, lit up his life only to set it on fire.
I hold my hand out to him. “Come on. Let’s go back.”
—
Your next clue will be waiting in a big-ass fountain. Yes, in.
Song: Chicago Is So Two Years Ago - Fall Out Boy
This is what the clue says. So Vic and I are packing our things and preparing to head off to Chicago. I’m mostly finished, though, so now I’m out on the back porch, calling Matty.
"So, you’re off to the next stop, then?" he asks.
"Mm-hmm," I reply. "Chicago."
"I guess this means that Vic guy didn’t kill you in your sleep yet."
"He’s never going to," I say. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about him, actually."
"Uh…why? What about him? What’d he do?"
I can feel my face heating up. “Well, uh…I think he stole my heart. Basically. As cheesy as that sounds.”
For a moment, there’s silence. “I didn’t hear you wrong, did I?” Matty says. “Because it sounds like you’re telling me you’re in love with him.”
I bite my lip. “I think I am in love with him.”
"Whoa, really? Seriously?"
Before I can respond, the screen door opens, and Vic comes out, staring at me. My heart nearly stops.
"Matty, I’ll…uh…I’ll call you back," I say slowly.
"Wait, what? Kellin!" Matty calls. I hang up on him.
"H-how much did you hear?" I say. I know how thin that door is. If I can hear his phone calls, he can probably hear mine.
He takes a step toward me. “Everything.”
Shit, shit, shit.
"I…I, uh…" I stammer as a wave of panic crashes over my head. Maybe he doesn’t know I was talking about him—
"Bree was right, you know," Vic says, stepping even closer. He puts a finger underneath my chin and tilts it up toward him. "Your lips look extremely lonely."
And then he kisses me.
I barely have time to think, Oh my God, he’s kissing me, because then he quickly pulls away, biting his lip as if he’s just realized that he’s done something wrong.
"Let’s go to Chicago," he says. Then he heads back inside without another word.
—
Let’s face it, I’m basically dedicating this entire fic to Fall Out Boy