Friday, September 5, 2014

That looser, Quincey Adams, again...

   "Awah don't cry."
"Why shouldn't I? I'm sitting in the mouth of a giant stone lion in the middle of nowhere, freezing my butt off, while it's storming like the freaking end of the world. Not even mentioning the part where we're hopelessly lost." I rubbed my palms at the dampness in my eyes, suddenly feeling more angry at my situation than sorry for myself.
There was a pause while a crack of thunder died away to a distant rumble like an unfinished thought.

Quincey scooted over, putting his arm around my shaking shoulders. His hoodie was damp, but it still held some warmth. It smelled like him. I studied the tops of our solid sneakers in the nonstop flashes of lightening, their original colors now indiscernible after days of trekking through mud.
"At least you have me, right?" His arm rubbed up and down my back. I would have rolled my eyes if it had been light out.
"You mean the boy I was once stupid enough to crush on, until he betrayed me and broke my heart and got us into this mess?"
His arm stopped rubbing.
"That boy broke your heart?" He sounded surprised. I was too miserable to be embarrassed.
"Add it to the list," I muttered.
"Man, he sounds like a looser." Quincey dipped his head towards me. "Is that boy ever going to be able to make up for everything on that list?"
"I doubt it," I said, staring blindly out through the lion's teeth, the dizzying flashes of lighting momentarily illuminating the saturated woods around us.
"Would it help if you knew that boy was sorry?" I could barely hear him over the rumble of thunder.
"Like, real sorry."
He started rubbing his arm on my freezing back again. "Well, what if that boy made a fire for you?"
That made me laugh out loud--the odds of his pathetic survival skills against the torrents of rain falling outside positively ridiculous.
"Hey, could be worse," he said. "We could still be out there looking for shelter instead of this comfy Lion's mouth."
"It could be worse," I agreed, "I could be alone."
I turned into the warmth of his body, never feeling so grateful to be sitting close to someone, even that someone was a heartthrob looser like Quincey Adams.

 ©Mary Lund

This scene was inspired by a weird picture I saw on pinterest involving a stone lion's mouth. It's a bit long for a Snippet Saturday, but it seemed like it could be a continuation of the plot started on my first ever Snippet Saturday with that heartthrob looser, Quincey Adams, so I decided to use his character again, although my sister thinks I just recycled the name because I liked it--Quincey Adams--and she may be right. :) 
 What do you think? Does Quincey deserve his own story to clear up his name?

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