Accident Prone

Quentin came from the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Bri said that she wants something strong.

He realized that she is not in the living room and assumed that she went to the restroom.

Quentin was surprised to see Bri come out of the bedroom wearing the same clothes she wore before dinner. She is in a rush and her expression is not good.

"Bri?", he called.

Brianna didn't stop her movements. She was putting her shoes on. "Sorry, Quentin. I need to go."

"Did something happen?" He was one step behind her.

"No. I… I'm sorry for misleading you. The dress and everything Kendra brought is in the bedroom…"

"I told you that you can keep the dress. What do you mean misleading…?"

"I don't want it!", Brianna interrupted him. "Thank you for today. It was fun."

Bri moved toward the apartment door. She didn't want to stay longer than necessary because her expression might crack and reveal how much of a mess she is right now.

"You don't sound like you are having fun." Quentin blocked the door with his body and reached for her chin to lift her head so that he can see her face.

Bri jerked her head, avoiding his touch. "I said that it WAS fun. Move."

"Not until you tell me what happened."

Bri sighed. "I thought I can do this… I was wrong. I am sorry."

She didn't want to say that maybe she could go through this if she didn't realize that she is falling for him. And because of who he is, she can't allow herself to get deeper into this one way dead-end street. She needs to pull back and cut her losses. Now.

"Bri, please, don't go and leave me in the dark. I thought that it is going well. You said the only condition was that you don't end up online…"

"Yeah. I was off the mark while thinking that your dates might end up on a sleazy website. They end up in a fashion magazine. Sorry..." She reached for the doorknob.

Quentin wanted to hold her extended hand, and he was upset when he saw that she pulled it away, avoiding his touch, again.

"Bri, please, don't leave without an explanation."

Brianna took a deep breath, composed herself and looked him in the eyes while talking: "You want an explanation? Fine. The night was great. You are an amazing kisser, and sweet and a gentleman… but all with one purpose which does not extend beyond one night. And as much as I told myself how that is what I need, I was wrong."

Quentin's heart constricted. He knows that there is nothing he can say to convince her otherwise, but he has to try: "Bri, I like you. I really do. Please, don't go. Stay with me. Let me prove to you that this IS beyond one night. To me you are so much more. I want to get to know you and…"

"Stop!", she snapped. "I don't believe you."

"How can I make you believe me?"

"It's too late."

He balled his hands into fists. "What do you mean, it's too late? I demand to know, what happened?!"

Brianna glanced at the previous edition of US Glam on the coffee table in the living room, but she didn't want to explain. There is no point. What can he say? That he didn't sleep with that woman, or with the other ones? That she is not just one of many from the pool of women who satisfy his criteria for pursuing? That she is special? There is nothing he can say that she will believe him.

And even if has some magic potion to make her believe him, it will only make things worse because she does not want to get into a relationship that can bring her nothing other than a heartbreak.

What is the outcome he is trying to sell her? That he wants to date her, long term? He wants them to spend their lifetimes together? What will she do while he is on his business trips filling up magazines with phone numbers of models? One night or a thousand, it will not make a difference because the only thing she sees is a heartbreak.

Why is he blocking her way? This is already much more difficult than she thought it will be. Why is he torturing her? He just needs to move so that she can get out, and he can go and find his next redhead or whatever hair color comes next. And he can give the dress and all the special treatment to a girl who will believe him. Because it does not need to be Brianna, any woman will do, that much is obvious.

"Move!", she exclaimed angrily.

"Not until you give me an explanation!", he demanded stubbornly.

Quentin's eyes widened in horror when she pressed something on his crotch.

"Move, or I will shoot…", Bri squeezed through her teeth.

"Bri…", Quentin swallowed hard and lifted his arms in surrender. "I am not holding you against your will."

"My will is to leave, and you are blocking my way… so…", she narrowed her eyes at him.

Quentin gave a small nod. He can't keep her there, and she does not want to explain. Or maybe she did explain, but he missed it? Why else would she be this angry?

Is she really going to shoot? It will be better if she aims for the heart than at his lower parts because he can be dead, but he can't be a eunuch.

"Let me drop you off to Liz's place…" Quentin made his last attempt while inching to the side slowly and making sure not to do any sudden movements that can cause Bri to pull the trigger.

"No need. The cab is waiting downstairs.", she responded curtly, and the door closed behind her.

…

Only when the cab started moving, Brianna released a breath she was holding.

She realized that she still has in her hand the lipstick (aka the gun). It's not the first time that she presses her lipstick to a guy's crotch and says that she will shoot. All of them are the same, fearing about the safety of their precious parts to the point of not checking what is in her hand.

Brianna kept the lipstick in her purse and sighed while staring blankly through the window of the cab.

Brianna has to admit that she made a mistake. She overestimated herself this time. Luckily, she realized her mistake before she slept with him and before she allowed herself to sink completely into an illusion that this might actually lead somewhere.

Tomorrow she will go back home, and Quentin and this weekend will become a blurry memory until it fades completely.

…

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Back in the apartment…

Quentin rubbed his chin vigorously. He does that when he is not sure what to do.

He knows that Brianna was angry, disappointed maybe… and she does not want to be near him. He needs to figure out what happened before he goes to see her again otherwise he will only make it worse.

He walked to the living room and slumped on the sofa.

Quentin replayed Brianna's words in his mind, trying to understand what happened.

He held his breath at her words that everything he did was for the purpose which does not extend beyond one night, and: '…and as much as I told myself how that is what I need, I was wrong.' What does that mean? That she does not need that one night at all, or that she wants more than that?

He felt like crying. So many girls passed through his embrace, willing to do anything to please him, and he finally found the woman who is the center of his galaxy and she does not want to be with him to the point of threatening his ability to produce offspring.

But… why? Everything went great. He was sure that he got Brianna figured out. Her taste in fashion, and the music, and even the dinner venue. He could hardly believe that the two of them are such a good match, in every way imaginable. And she told him that everything he did was just right! She came to his apartment, damnit!

What happened while he was getting that stupid whiskey?

Quentin's sight fell on the magazine. Why is it on the table and not on the shelf? And it is open with front and last page on top. He flipped it and his heart stopped when he saw a two-paged photo of a redhead girl wearing the same dress Bri wore that evening.

Bri's angry expression flashed in front of his eyes when she told him that she does not want to keep the dress... and her voice echoed in his mind: 'Your dates end up in a fashion magazine…'

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place and completed the puzzle he didn't want to look at: he was not wrong… Brianna likes the treatment and the evening… and he is confident that she likes him as well… but she saw this photo and the phone number and…

Why is that skinny redhead wearing the dress which belongs to his fiery Goddess? Well, he knows why she is wearing it, and he remembers hitting it off with her, and he remembers the hotel room even though the experience was so generic that it blurred with many previous ones.

Quentin does not remember the girl's name, but he is confident that she is the reason why Brianna just left.

"Shit!" Quentin flung the magazine angrily across the room.

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