Broken Breaths

1

On Friday afternoon, Quinn lay on her back, stared up at the ceiling, and wondered what she should do over the weekend.

It should have been an easy thing to figure out, she thought. She should have been able to gather up her friends for a much-needed weekend of drinking and dancing and general hedonism. She'd posted her plans in the group chat and they had died on arrival. Ava was going to visit her grandmother this weekend. Ethan had to work, and Paige was sick. That was basically -- her phone buzzed. She lifted it up above her face to read the new message. It was Cecil tapping out, which now meant her entire friend group was unavailable.

Unlucky.

Quinn sighed and let her arm flop to the side. Her phone bounced out of her hand and clattered off the bed, but she didn't move to get it. She was too busy thinking, trying to decide what she should do. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so directionless about how to spend her free time because. Up until a few months ago, this hadn't been an issue. Her friends were busy? No problem, she'd just spend the weekend with Caleb.

Boyfriends were convenient like that: they were like best friends except you could also go to them when you needed someone to change the flat on your car, or take care of you when you got sick, or passionately screw your brains out without your ex- roommate hearing. Caleb had been especially good at that last part. Very good, actually. So good, in fact, that he'd decided to share some of his skills with said roommate because apparently, she had in fact, heard them. And then she had told her best friend, so obviously he'd needed to show her what all the fuss was about. And then of course there was the girl who lived two floors below him who he met in the gym that one time. That one was just because she'd thought he was hot, and if Quinn had been put in a situation like that, she absolutely would have done the same thing and frankly she was overreacting and being unreasonable.

No, this was nothing like how he had cheated on her last time, and how dare she insinuate such a thing.

So Quinn had broken up with him-- again. Which sucked, of course, but she'd decided that it had been for the best. Didn't matter that it had taken Hawa six sessions of therapy to convince her of that, she was over him and feeling much better. But the fact remained that she'd grown used to him, to his constant presence, to having someone to talk to whenever she wanted to. And yes, she'd grown used to having consistently amazing sex.

She'd tried to fill that particular void with the obvious apps, but they had quickly become a waste of time. Well... she supposed they always had been, but it seemed to her that they had gotten decidedly worse lately. It was almost impressive how many people she came across who would somehow manage to ruin their chances immediately. She wasn't even being all that picky-- all they had to do was not be a total ass or completely boring with their first message and she probably would've slept with them. But apparently, even that bar was still too high because she hadn't had sex in three months, since just before she found out what Caleb had been doing in her apartment when she wasn't around.

She had, of course, cut him off immediately. Blocked him on socials, changed her passwords, the obvious things. The only thing she didn't do was block his number, and that was only so she could make fun of him with her friends in the group chat. She'd screenshotted his whiny paragraphs and laugh about them. It wasn't a half bad coping mechanism, all things considered, and it had been an excellent source of entertainment for weeks. She'd only responded once, when he'd asked if he could come by on his way to work to pick up some drives and clothes he'd left behind, and she had kept it extremely professional. She'd been completely no nonsense when she'd let him in. Her composure had been perfect as she watched him gather his stuff. And she had maintained that perfection as she walked him back towards the door. All the way up until he'd spun on her, grabbed her in a hug and apologised. Then he kissed her... at which point her perfect poise had shattered like glass.

Because of course it fucking did.

And instead of proving that she was over him and his lies for good this time, she'd ended up sprawled over the arm of the couch, leggings around her ankles, his warm cum dripping out of her and onto her thighs while Caleb gathered his things and left for work.

So... make that two months, actually.

She had blocked his number after that.

In fairness, it wasn't even that Quinn didn't have other options to quench her thirst; there were at least four old flings in her phone right now and any one of them would jump at the chance to get in her bed again. But when she thought about calling them, she always thought about how decidedly not worth the effort any of them were. For one, they were all just... Boring. Each was the kind of guy who would talk a big game and then couldn't back any of it up. Caleb had been passionate, forceful. He had fucked her, made her sore in the morning and left her with that delicious light-headed sense of satisfaction. You couldn't go from sex like that to guys like these. They had no finesse, no grace. They could have had the dicks of Greek gods and it still would've felt like getting violated by a soggy tortilla. Quinn was pretty sure she had done better for herself in high school with a bathtub faucet and a cheap ConAir hairbrush.

That would've been disqualifying on its own, but they were also the kind of guys that were best kept as a one night stand anyway, the kind who had this annoying habit of reading more into the sex than was actually there. Once was usually fine. But if you called them back a second time, there was a good chance they'd start thinking you wanted them more than you actually did. And if you weren't careful, they could catch feelings and it would turn into a whole thing and it'd just be so much effort. Way too much effort, some might say, for less than mediocre dick that, realistically, wouldn't even get you off. So she'd have given herself a new problem man to deal with... and still be forced to use the toys in her top drawer when he was gone just to make herself cum.

A buzz came from the floor next to the bed, pulling Quinn from her self- piteous pondering. Her phone was still down there. She stayed where she was. Moving just didn't seem worth it right now. The phone buzzed again. And then again. Quinn groaned and rolled over to reach down and pick it up. She didn't really have a choice; if she left it there, the curiosity would drive her crazy instead. She opened her messages. She read them once, then twice. Slowly, a grin formed on her face.

"Isaac, you beautiful bastard."

Maybe she had something to do this weekend after all.

2

Quinn had met Isaac in their second year of undergrad when they shared a psychology class. He'd asked if she wanted to study with an upcoming test and since she had failed every other test, Quinn took him up on the offer. Not like she had anything to lose, right? Now, she wasn't even sure why he had taken a psych class-- he was a chef at some restaurant downtown now, so she doubted he was using anything he'd learned. But she was grateful he had, because she'd gotten a pretty sweet friendship out of the deal. They weren't super close, weren't inner circle confidants or a part of each other's major friend groups. But they did have a great time together, and that was what was most important, as far as Quinn was concerned. Every now and then, one would hit up the other for lunch, or drinks, or whatever. Sometimes they'd chat over text, but that was about it. It wasn't complicated; just a simple, mutually beneficial friendship that required minimal effort.

Plus, sometimes Isaac made new dishes. And those dishes needed someone to taste them. As far as Quinn was concerned, any friendship with built-in free food was a friendship for life.

Isaac had texted her a picture of a platter of wings, golden and soaked in a thick ruby sauce. "New recipe," the message read. "Made too many for me and Ben so you'd better come get some before they get cold." That was followed by a selfie of Isaac and his roommate Ben eating the wings with stupid expressions. Silly, but effective. Quinn hopped in the shower and started getting herself together.

As she put on her makeup -- not a full face, just enough to be presentable -- she thought about the last time she'd seen Isaac. It had been a while, maybe a year. They were overdue for a catch up, a real one where they could sit and talk to each other, not just text. Besides, she would take any excuse to eat Isaac's cooking, especially if it was something new.

An hour later, Quinn was standing outside Isaac's door and feeling much better. She'd dressed purposefully; casual, but with just enough effort that she still felt like she was going out to do things, not just grab groceries. As she stepped up to knock on the front door, she could smell whatever Isaac had invited her over to taste. Sweet and spicy, chilis and cilantro. The scents washed over her as Isaac opened the door. He greeted her with a smile, ushered her inside, and suddenly all her frustrations were forgotten. The evening became a blur as Quinn was swept up by good food, good company and, courtesy of Isaac's roommate Ben, great alcohol. In no time, Quinn was full, wonderfully tipsy, and more relaxed than she had been in weeks.

3

They all sat together in the living room. Quinn and Isaac sat on the tiny blue couch, the room's only seating. Ben claimed a spot on the floor, but he seemed to like that better. He was having a somewhat intense discussion with Isaac, who was getting amusingly into the argument. Quinn honestly wasn't sure what the argument was about, and she couldn't really bring herself to care. She sipped her cup of soju something-or-other (she couldn't remember the mixer) and hummed contentedly. She just wanted to ride this buzz, no sense in spoiling it with an argument about movies. Or was it a video game? One of them mentioned... food? Ah, who cared, she was happy and drunk.

She absent-mindedly scrolled through Netflix on the tv, searching for something to put on in the background. Still, she couldn't help but be drawn to the passion in their voices. There was a warmth in them, a fire that pulled her in like she was magnetised. They were so energetic, especially Isaac. His voice was low, but full of fervour and genuine engagement with the topic. It suddenly didn't even matter if Quinn understood the actual topic, she felt Isaac's love for the subject. She looked up at him, watching as he argued with his roommate. Just seeing the excitement play across Isaac's face was enthralling. She liked how into it he got, hearing the passion in his voice, seeing the fever in the way he gestured when he talked. His voice rumbled as he spoke, low and strong. It was fascinating, a little alluring.

It was hot.

Quinn felt a twitch. Deep in her gut, right below her stomach. And suddenly, she wasn't looking at her friend Isaac. She was looking at the way his arms flexed when he motioned around, at the way his long black lashes caught the light, at the line of his jaw as he spoke. Had he always looked like that? Was it just the alcohol? Or was she actually just that horny?

Isaac said something else to Ben and Quinn thought the bass of his voice felt different this time. Smoother, somehow. She glanced down at her nearly empty cup. That was definitely a part of it, she was sure. But... she looked up at Isaac again. His eyes were bright with that thrill, that passion. She felt the twitch again, stronger this time. She felt something grow just the slightest bit damp, inspired by the spirit that hummed in Isaac's voice, the genuine excitement and interest in his body language. She wanted him to talk to her that way, to tell her what to do with that voice. And it was there, sitting with Isaac on the very small couch, with Ben on the floor and the tv playing some comedy special that Quinn didn't remember anyone clicking on, that she made the decision to see if she could get Isaac to focus some of that zealous fury onto her.

Some part of her immediately knew it was a bad idea. That part of her, the part of her with common sense, did the obvious thing and protested -- at which point it was immediately bullied into submission by the other parts of her. Namely, the parts that were pretty drunk and very horny. The night had been exactly what she had needed, but it was still only half the issue. Alcohol buzzed in her system, and with it came a virtual flood of pent-up horny aggression. Common sense be damned, Quinn wanted dick. And there was a conveniently cute boy in front of her who just might've been able to give her what she needed.

Before she could lose her nerve, Quinn very nonchalantly took a throw pillow from next to her, put it in Isaac's lap, and put her head down with a gentle flop. Smooth, cool. Isaac grunted and stiffened, looking down at her with surprise. Quinn pretended to not notice, as if this were all perfectly normal. It was a physical touch that was just innocuous enough to not be overtly sexual, but was probably farther than their current relationship would imply was allowed.

"Uh... you good, Quinn?" Isaac seemed to be at a loss.

"Just a little tired," she half-lied as Isaac looked down at her. She could sense the confusion in the way his body shifted unsurely beneath her. She purposefully stumbled over her words, trying to sound more intoxicated than she really was. "Can I borrow you for a bit?" She snuggled in without waiting for a response, and Isaac shifted nervously again.

He looked at her for a moment before glancing at Ben, then back at her. "Sure," was all he said. Quinn heard Ben chuckle softly, but he stayed silent otherwise. The three of them sat with nothing but the sound of the tv for a few moments, until Ben and Isaac began talking again, this time in more hushed tones. Slowly, the sounds faded into the background until all Quinn could hear was her own steady breathing.

4

Quinn hadn't intended to actually fall asleep, but she found herself waking up, significantly more sober, some time later. The tv volume had been lowered to near inaudibility, though it still played. The lights had been turned off, the blue light from the screen serving as the room's only illumination. One of the boys had placed a blanket over her, which was sweet of them.

Isaac sat where he'd been before, perfectly still. Her head was still snuggled into his lap, but now his hand was placed on her shoulder. Protective, but somehow unconfident at the same time. The assertion she'd heard in his voice earlier seemed to have faded, and with it, Quinn's lust. She shifted uncomfortably, realising what she'd done in her impulsivity.

"Quinn? You awake?"

Quinn flinched. No hiding it now, she guessed.

"Mmhmm." She shifted more obviously now, shifting her weight as if stirring, though she remained in Isaac's lap. It was surprisingly comfortable here, she noted absently. "What time is it?"

"Uhhhh-" Isaac's hand left her shoulder. "3:13," he said after a moment. "Pretty late. You can crash here on the couch, if you'd like. I don't want you driving after those drinks."

He is sweet, Quinn thought. Without meaning to, she snuggled deeper into Isaac. The burning, alcohol driven lust she felt earlier had mostly worn off, but she liked the way it felt to be cared for by him at this moment. She felt warm, safe. Protected. It had been a while since she'd felt like that. Not even Caleb had done that.

Quinn felt a third twitch. Not as strong as the first two, not as needy. But still there. She tried to quell it, but it wouldn't fade. She breathed in deeply, and Isaac's scent filled her lungs. Rosemary and deodorant and the oils he used for his hair. Spicy and mellow all at once. Quinn could feel her resolve slipping. It was just a matter of time to see what broke first-- Isaac's self control or Quinn's nerve.

"Thanks," she said. "I think I'll do that." She glanced at the tv. "You're still watching this?"

"Yeah... It's alright. Besides, the remote's over on the table and I didn't want to move you. It's like having a cat fall asleep in your lap, that's just your life now."

Quinn gave a light laugh. It wasn't a very good joke, and she was too conflicted to do much else.

Issac's hand returned to her, but not on her shoulder. He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and comforting. Not at all timid like it had been before. This was more intimate, more intentional. Just innocuous enough to not be overtly sexual, but was probably farther than their current relationship would imply was allowed.

Quinn shivered slightly. She didn't stop him.

For a second, she considered breaking the moment by pointing out that he was essentially petting her, but damn if his fingers didn't feel good on her scalp. So she kept her mouth shut -- no sense in ruining the feeling just to embarrass him -- and they sat like that for a while. Isaac hummed softly to himself. His fingers played in the long waves of her auburn hair, twisting and tugging and slipping. They were warm and soothing. She could almost feel herself falling asleep again.

"That feels good," she murmured, almost to herself. Issac didn't respond immediately, he just continued to hum. In fact, there was no indication that he'd heard her at all until his voice broke the quiet a few moments later.

"I'd really like to kiss you right now," he said.

The statement jolted Quinn from her relaxation. It was oddly direct, blatant and unexpected, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of her wanted to kiss him, too, though she wasn't sure she wanted more from him anymore. She liked the fact that he had asked first, it was cute. But she didn't really want the sweet respect right now. She wanted that passion, that assertiveness. Like he'd been while arguing with Ben. Like Caleb had been when he'd come back for his stuff. She didn't want to have to think or answer questions, she wanted to be taken. God damn it, she just wanted him to take charge, take the responsibility from her. Why was that so hard?

"We can do that," she said, sitting up. "But... I'm not going to have sex with you tonight." That was the right decision, she thought. No use in ruining their friendship over sex that wasn't what she was looking for.

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, of course not," he said, with just a bit more eagerness than Quinn would have liked. Had he wanted to have sex? She couldn't really tell. He was trying a bit too hard to come off as nonchalant, and while it could arguably be called "cute", it did not help her mood.

She shifted to face Isaac more, watching him. He really was cute, she admitted. Coiled black hair, long lashes, a warm smile that made his face adorably round. Now though, no smile split his features. His eyes were locked on hers, his face surprisingly serious. His right hand came up and cupped the side of her face. His palm was warm and firm against her cheek as his fingers rested on the back of her neck to gently pull her in. She let him. Her hand came up to touch his wrist, slid down his forearm to hold it lightly. He felt good, stable.

Without meaning to, Quinn steeled herself for the awkward lean in of the kiss. Most of the guys she kissed always kissed in the same way. They'd lean in, close their eyes, pucker their lips like a fish pulled from the ocean. They always looked ridiculous and it took a certain amount of willpower not to laugh in their faces.

Isaac leaned in, slow. Quinn did the same. His eyes were still open. He watched her, noting her reactions. Quinn's breath quickened. She came in a little closer. Isaac continued to watch her. His eyes were soft, the tv light making them glitter a grey-blue. He seemed to be asking her if she was okay with this, if he was all right to continue. Quinn could feel his warm breath now, sweet with the smell of peach liquor. Her own breath hitched as she leaned in still closer. His eyes were still open, still gazing at her. She let her eyes slip shut. Their lips brushed and she sucked in a breath, but Isaac didn't move. He let the touch linger and Quinn could feel breathing grow heavier. The moment was pregnant with their desire, but Isaac was holding back. His beard was short, but surprisingly soft as it brushed against her lips. She was so close to him, closer than she'd ever been.