Quin stood in the front window of her store, watching as people passed by. They had been experiencing a pretty steady stream of customers all morning, so she really couldn’t complain about that. What she could complain about was her massive hangover and the fact that despite her best efforts, she still remembered every detail of the evening from how Taylor’s cologne had smelled to the disgusted look the eighteen year old fan had given her to the feeling of the pen pressing into her skin as Taylor had signed her shirt. Every sensation was not only cemented in her brain, but also painfully vivid. She remembered how badly she’d wanted to let Taylor take her hand in his so he could lead her away, but was glad she hadn’t given in. If she was ever going to give in to his advances, it would not be when she was in a drunken and incredibly vulnerable state. It would be on her own terms, something that he didn’t seem very comfortable with.
She wanted to offer him her number that night before she left, but as soon as he had asked for it, obviously thinking that it was the key into her pants, she had walked away instead. Magda called it playing head games, but Quin just thought of it as playing it smart. If she let Taylor Hanson win this little game, then she was no better than the hundreds of slutty girls who had come before her. And if she knew anything about herself, it was that she was far better than those women, if they could even be called that, who Taylor usually took home with him. She knew that she was different and that she deserved better than a sexy little grin and a few well-executed come ons.
“Do we have to stay open until six?” Magda groaned from her position behind the counter. She had given in, eventually drinking Quin under the table and was now obviously far worse for the wear than Quin was.
“Yes, it’s how late we’re open on Saturday. The customers don’t care if we’re hung over and would rather be in bed with a bottle of Advil.”
“Or a sexy rock star,” Magda added, obviously unable to help herself.
“Oh shut up,” Quin scolded, “I just want to forget about him.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to forget it if a celebrity wanted to sleep with me and after a week still wanted to sleep with me. I still think you’re crazy,” Magda said. Quin just glared at her before immersing herself in organization mode, refolding and moving pieces of clothing to make the place look presentable again after the morning rush. When the bell tinkled, signaling them that a customer had entered, Quin just called out a greeting without taking her eyes off the wall of purses before her. Quin heard Magda make her way back to the counter from the storage room.
“Oh, hi Taylor,” Magda said, almost stammering his name in surprise. Quin reeled in the urge to whip around to see if Magda was just messing with her, and casually turned. There he was, standing there in her shop looking at a rack of summer dresses, the closest rack to the door.
“Hi,” he said to Magda politely before making his way towards Quin who had once again busied herself straightening purses.
“Can I help you find something today?” Quin asked, trying her hardest to act like he was any other customer and that her heart wasn’t beating against her ribs, elated at the knowledge that he had remembered the name of her shop, looked it up, and had come to find her. The night before, Quin had told Magda that if Taylor really wanted her, that he would find her, and he had done exactly that.
“Nice place,” he offered, “But I don’t really think this stuff is my style.” His fingers gently picked up the spaghetti strap of a tank laying on the table before him as if it prove his point.
“I don’t know,” Quin shrugged, “I think it’d look good on you.”
“Why did you leave last night? I just wanted to talk to you,” he asked, moving to stand right next to her. Quin laughed lightly and took a sidestep away from him, one that he quickly mirrored, putting himself right next to her again.
“You did not just want to talk to me, Taylor, and that’s the problem. After how that first night we met went, how can you possibly expect me to take any of this seriously?” He seemed to really think about her question for a minute, which gave her hope. All she wanted was for him to show her that he wanted her for something more than her body.
“No one has ever said no to me before,” he admitted, and his statement made Quin crinkle up her nose in disgust.
“So what, I’m some kind of conquest?” she asked, stepping away from him again only to have him follow her. Again.
“At first, you were, I’m not going to lie. And I know that I don’t know you very well, but you seem interesting and together and sure of yourself. I am tired of hooking up with stupid girls who do whatever I want them to do and who never challenge me or tell me no. But you told me no, Quin. I can tell by looking at you that you want me too, but you have still told me no twice. I still want you, Quin, and that’s not going to go away.”
“Look, Taylor. If anything is going to happen with this, and I’m not saying that it’s going to, it’s going to be on my terms, not yours. You think that I want you, but you don’t know that. You asked me if I found you attractive and I didn’t answer, which you took to mean that I did. There is a fifty-fifty chance that you were wrong there,” she said. He shrugged with a half smile and rocked back on his heels.
“What can I say? I like those odds,” he told her, “When you decide to admit that you want me too, please let me know. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” And with that, he set a business card down on the table before leaving.
“He just doesn’t get it, does he?” Quin sighed, pocketing the card and getting back to her task.