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“Maybe is not good for me. Keep talking. I prefer not take the chance that I might not be come midnight.”
“Do you like me in your head, Quinn?” she asked softly.
My teeth grit for a second. “More than is good for you.”
A short inhalation. “Why isn’t it good for me?”
I simply laugh.
“Do I amuse you?” Her sexy voice is stiff with growing affront.
“You do a lot of things to me, Elly, and you know it. Isn’t that why you responded to my text? Isn’t that why you’re at the end of the phone right now, when your instincts scream at you to run?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replies. “Why am I in your head?” she blurts.
Because I spent far too many nights when I wasn’t fucking you, watching you sleep. Wanting to drag you into my cracks.
“Because you see me. You know you should be afraid, but you don’t run.”
“Quinn…are you okay?”
Same question, different version of the woman whose last name I don’t even know.
“Tell me your name.”
This time the inhalation is sharper. “What?”
“What’s Elly short for?”
She stays silent for a long time. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she eventually says.
“For you to tell me your name? You don’t think you can trust me?”
She laughs. “The guy who tells me to run? What do you think?”
“I think you shouldn’t trust me. But I want to know anyway. Eleanor.”
“No.”
“Eloise. Ella. Arabella. Petronella. Mariella.”
“No.”
“Hmm, I’m running out of options. Elephant.”
Her husky laugh washes over me. “Wow. Elephant. Really?”
“Tell me. Is Elly even your name?”
Her laughter stops. “Yes,” she says.
“And it’s short for?”
“Why do you want to know, Quinn?” Her voice is just above a murmur.
“I want to see you.”
“No, you don’t. You want me to run.”