The Tattooed Flower

16. Get Over It

Quinn-

"Can I drive?" I ask as we make our way towards the Chevy.

"You want to drive?" Caleb questions, eyeing me quizzically.

"Please?" I plead, pouting my lower lip.

He rolls his eyes at me as he fishes his his keys out of his pocket and sets them in my hand. We reach the car and I climb in the driver's side, fiddling with the seat adjustment and mirrors until everything is visible and comfortable. "It's going to take me forever to readjust that." He groans, strapping himself into the passenger side.

"You'll get over it." I say, smiling at him.

"You better hope so." I smile at him and twist the key in the ignition. Something twists in my stomach as I twist the key. But it's not a bad feeling. I've always loved driving, I know that not everybody can say the same. It's stressful and draining and at times aggravating. But, at the same time, it was refuge. It was me not waiting on those stupid, dim, yellow headlights. It was control. Something I could control.

I rev the engine a few times. More for my enjoyment than to teases Caleb. "You better not scratch my baby." He growls. I look over at him again and rev the engine once more. He groans and I take off, backing up out of the lot.

Caleb-

Today was probably the most... challenging... day of my life. Watching Quinn get that tattoo, back exposed, and then to get back to the hotel and find her so... Resurrected. Let me just say that a half present Quinn with her shirt on is a huge turn on for me, but show me a Quinn that looks really... Alive. That's kryptonite for me. And when she got behind the wheel, there was this sort of animal thing that entered her expression. It reminded me of freedom.

She reminds me of freedom. And I know how fucking ironic that sounds. She's a fugitive, Caleb. That makes ZERO sense. She's freedom to me. She makes me feel free. Makes me feel complete, like part of me isn't missing.

So here, I am. Sitting in the passenger seat, just staring at her. But she doesn't seem to notice. All there is, is the road and the wheel and her. And she is so beautiful. She's the kind of beautiful that deserves to be shouted about, but doesn't need that.

I don't she'd even want that.

I found a little drawing on one of those notepads they leave in hotel rooms. It was Quinn's. It was so small, maybe a little bigger than the diameter of a golf ball. It was an eye and within the pupil was the tiny reflection of a person, he was smiling. Looking at it, I could tell she hadn't meant for anyone to see it. It was a whisper. Only heard if you were really listening.

And Quinn only lets you see her for her, if your really looking. If she knows you're not going anywhere. She doesn't want a crowd, she wants a whisper.

I look back to the window, watching as my surroundings pass me by. And for a moment I swear the whole world is silent. You could hear a pin drop or a heart beat. "Are you going to tell me where to go?" Quinn asks eyeing me with a deadpan face.

"Absolutely."

***

When we pull into the parking lot of Dave's apartment and I watch as Quinn carefully undoes her seatbelt and takes a deep breath. Her eyes look stormy and confused, like she's lost in the middle of a hurricane. I take her hand in mine and squeeze it tightly. She tries to smile at me but I can see her nerves through all of it. She looked like this when she was talking to Dave about his family. She turns away from me and pulls her hand out of mine. Tugging at her other fingers uneasily she says,"How long are we going to keep pretending this is going to work out?" She whispers, still not looking at me.

Her words hit me like a freight train, surprised first by the complete 360 her mood has made and then by her words in general. Did she not just receive the best news she's had in almost two weeks? "I'm never going to have any of this, Caleb." She says gesturing at the apartment building. I feel my stomach turn and she glances back at me, her eyes tired. She quickly diverts her stare, to her lap this time. "I don't want you to wait for me when things go bad..." My heart stops for a second and not in that good fluttery way.

"Look at me Quinn." I say gently. She doesn't look up, her face shrouded by locks that fall across her cheeks. "Dammit Quinn, look at me!"I shout. She turns to me stunned. I clench my fists and try to calm down, but she's breaking my heart. My heart doesn't get broken anymore... I hate it. "No. Okay? No. You're not going to have any of this." I say gesturing wildly. "You're not going to have a job or a house or fucking babies... You don't get to have that! You get me, you get to have me. Whether you think you can have me or not. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Not until you tell me to leave, and it better be because you're fucking sick of me leaving my socks on the fucking floor or forgetting to put the seat down or something fucking normal. Because, I swear to God if I hear another, "I just can't get you in trouble." or "You'd be better off without me." I'm going to lose my shit. I'm not better off." I heave, she's just staring at me, bug eyed and sad-looking.

She shakes her head. "You don't need me."

I look away from her, she's not wrong. I don't need her... I want her. Not only in a physical way, in an emotional way. I don't think you should be with a person because you need them in a way that you can't survive on your own. Thats ridiculous. Be in a place where you need them because you love them, because you want them around because they make you're life better. "You're right." She looks at me. "I don't need you. I want you. You make me better. And I don't need to be better, I could go on being the way that I was. I was happy, but you make me happier. You make me care about who I am and not just how I feel. That's important to me. Don't you get it?" I ask, practically begging her to understand. "Leave if you want, but only if thats what you want, because I want you. No matter what consequences there are."

She holds my stare, biting at her lower lip subconsciously. I want her to stop this. To stop acting like she doesn't matter just because she messed up. People mess up. And maybe this was worse than the normal "mess up" but I just don't care. And not caring is hard for me. I don't believe in sacrificing my integrity for the sake of someone else. But this, this doesn't feel like a sacrifice. All I can feel is that I love her. And maybe thats not enough for some people but...

"Thank you." She whispers.

... it's enough for me.