ix. in which oliver york does something surprising

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TRUE TO HER WORD, Quinn had been coming into Java for the last three days, equipped with her musical weapons and determination. The first day she came in and hummed the refrain for Reptilia by The Strokes. The day after that she had an Aerosmith album tucked underneath the sleeve of her oversized men's jacket. Yesterday, she brought in an old iPod Nano and played the opening of Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley.

Each time, I gave her the death glare and grumbled the same response, "Get that shit away from me." Perhaps I should've told her that I didn't care for music; well, not anymore. Maybe that would've gotten her off my back, but somehow my resistance spurred her into a determined flurry of finding a piece of music that I honestly liked.

But honestly? I liked them all. As she hummed Reptilia, I sang the lyrics in my mind. When I saw the Aerosmith album, I thought of when the guys and I covered Cryin' for the school talent show. When she blasted Hallelujah, I had the tabs up in my brain before the lyrics even started. And everytime I remembered, I felt the pieces of myself, the pieces that I so desperately tried to glue together, begin breaking little by little again.

I never realized how much I missed it: the music.

I stood behind the register as usual, business was slow as usual, and I was bored. As usual. My eyes skimmed the wall clock - southern antique embroidered in elegant flourishes - and watched the minute hand slowly inch itself towards two 'o clock.

Quinn should be coming inside in three, two, one.

The bell chimed and I righted myself in my spot, throwing the dirty dish towel to the side and crossing my arms over my chest in a defensive position. Sleek and graceful, she sauntered through the door, her billowy chocolate brown hair waving in the breeze behind her.

"You again?" I arched an eyebrow at her as she smirked nonchalantly.

"Who else?" She looked the same as she usually did. Decorated in the usual bland attire, she wore a Dodgers hoodie, some slacks, and black combat boots. The footwear always had me wondering about how she really dressed, like on the night I first met her. Quinn seemed like a more inconspicuous mask of her true self.

Taking the usual seat, the velvet bar stool third from the edge, Quinn set her long legs on the chair beside her, stretching them out to their full length. I noticed she didn't come equipped, no album by her side, or music device. Just Quinn. I felt a little disappointment, which shocked me; was she already giving up?

"What will it be?" I asked, running a hand down my unmanageable locks.

"Caramel latte and pumpkin spice macchiato." she clarified, like she did every day since then. I turned back to the counter; I had already started on her order before she showed up, already knowing. She always ordered the same thing. I put in extra sugar, caramel, and whipped cream before sliding the steaming hot cup in her direction.

For a second I saw her frown, like she did every time I passed her the drink, but it always faded as quickly as it came. Quinn didn't bother taking a sip, playing with the cup instead. Finishing up the macchiato, I added it to her side and stood in front of her, both hands resting on the counter top on either side of my body.

"Alright. Since all my efforts were wasted so far, I'll try something else." Quinn leaned forward, as if about to spill gossip. "Tell me if you like this song."

I braced myself but the impact was so strong that I found myself blinking back in utter shock. It wasn't the same blow that hit whenever I listened to music, a blow that hurt. Instead, it was complete shock as her voice began the song, beautiful and ragged, like broken glass and eternal bliss.

Quinn was good. Really good. And I never ever wanted to compliment her, but I found myself transfixed as her voice, low and rough, caressed me softly. Her eyes were closed in concentration, the passion evident in the way she swayed slightly and half-smiled.

"I did my best to notice when the call came down the line. Up to the platform of surrender, I was brought but I was kind. And sometimes I get nervous when I see an open door," I recognized the song after the first verse: Human by The Killers. The mood suited Quinn's voice greatly and I felt goosebumps rising involuntarily on my arms.

She opened one eye, smile falling into a smirk, one not filled with arrogance but amusement, as she caught my awed look. "Close your eyes, clear your heart, cut the cord. Are we human or are we dancer?"

Her voice faltered a bit, probably because she was surprised I hadn't interrupted and snapped at her yet. I just didn't want her to stop singing. "My sign is vital, my hands are cold. And I'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we dancer?"

Quinn opened both eyes, leaning her head on her crossed arms on the table. She had a distant look in her amber gaze, where she wasn't where she was and somewhere completely different. Her voice grew soft, continuing the song. "Pay my respects to grace and virtue, send my condolences to good, give my regards to soul and romance. They always did the best they could. And so long to devotion, you taught me everything I know. Wave good bye, wish me well, you gotta let me go."

As the song progressed, I didn't argue, choosing to remain silent as she poured out her passion, showing her true vulnerability. Her eyes escaping mine, she stared at the wall as her thoughts floated somewhere out of reach. "Are we human or are we dancer? My sign is vital, my hands are cold. And I'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we dancer?

Will your system be alright when you dream of home tonight? There is no message we're receiving. Let me know, is your heart still beating?" Quinn's voice grew even more confident, all signs of shakiness disappearing without a trace. She finally glanced up to where I watched wide-eyed, staring straight into my eyes as she finished the song.

"You've gotta let me know, are we human or are we dancer? My sign is vital, my hands are cold. And I'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we dancer? Are we human or are we dancer?

"Are we human or are we dancer?" Quinn sighed out the last sentence, ripping away her gaze from me and setting her head fully on her arms, her hair creating a curtain to cover her face so I couldn't see. She stayed like that for a while, silent and brooding, and the only movement I saw was the steady rising and falling of her chest.

Something tugged in my heart as I looked at her; the tension in her shoulders, the sudden shift in mood, the broken aura. She reminded me of me.

"Hey." I said softly, nudging her hand with my own. Reflexively, Quinn curled her tiny fist into my own and we stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, the moment was over.

Her head snapped back up, revealing the usual smirk and ruby red lips, with no hint of the hidden sadness from before. She drew her hand away from mine quickly, and yawned. Grabbing her coffee, she took a tentative sip as if nothing happened, leaving me confused yet again.

"So," Quinn said.

"So," I said.

"Did you like that song?"

"No." She moved her sunglasses down to give me a cold look, her delicate eyebrows arching up as she seemed to say, are you fucking kidding me?

It was my turn to smirk; her lips curved downwards into a scowl as our expressions reversed each other's usual ones. She opened her mouth to speak but I beat her to it, waving a hand in her direction and finishing the sentence for her, "One day, Oliver, one day."

Her scowl deepened and I had to forcibly choke back a laugh at her expression. The little pout, her lower lip jutting out in dismay, reminded me of my little sister in a way.

"Is something funny?" She cocked an unamused eyebrow.

"No, not at all." I coughed out discreetly and retrieved the towel on my shoulder to begin wiping down the counters.

Muttering under her breath, the girl in front of me clacked the heel of her boot against the tiles and grabbed her orders. She hopped down from the stool, landing neatly on the balls of her feet before sauntering towards the direction of the exit.

About halfway there, she paused in her stride and did a little spin so that half of her body faced me, making me quirk an eyebrow.

"By the way," Quinn called over her shoulder, the creases in her forehead deepening as she frowned. "What ever happened to Mellow Brook Mall? I walked past Wilkes and 4th Street but there was only an empty field."

"It was torn down two years ago." I waved a nonchalant hand at her as I went to clean out the coffee filter, but when her question sunk into my mind, I whirled back in her direction with wide eyes.

I had a slight hunch that she was from around here, mostly because of the way she held herself and expertly weaved through the crowds like Somerset pedestrians. This question confirmed it.

Mellow Brook was a rusty, wear and tear building that was deemed unsuitable for human use. With it's cracked walls and failing infrastructure, it was doomed to a fate of being smashed to pieces with a wrecking ball, falling into ashes of a past glory. The mall had been around since my grandparents' grandparents were around, so I wasn't surprised that it was scheduled for demolition.

New residents wouldn't have known about the former mall unless they were told, yet Quinn already knew, though she carried herself like a tourist.

"Torn down?" Quinn echoed, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "About time. That old thing was falling apart anyway."

"Yeah." I agreed slowly, still recovering from my initial shock. Quinn seemed around my age, how come I never saw her around? Especially in school? What had happened to make her leave in the first place?

Well, college was an option, I thought bitterly. Or music. Grimacing, I shoved the thoughts out of my mind before looking quizzically at Quinn. "Do you live here?" I asked hesitantly.

She squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. "Sort of." Before I could interrogate her further, she added, "So did another mall open up anywhere close? I need to get some new clothes." She wrinkled her nose at her oversized hoodie, discreetly hiding the obvious topic change.

I decided not to question her further - it was a discussion for another day - and smirked, "Yeah, you can say that again, Rodriguez."

Nudging one coffee cup into the arm, she flipped me off with a scowl, before balancing the cups in two again. "Anyway," said I, opening the back of the coffee machine I was beside to clean out the mechanisms. "The new hang out is called Platinum Outlets."

"Oh?" Quinn looked vaguely interested, moving back to where I stood. She took a seat back at her spot and set the coffee cups down once more. "Where is it? How do I get there?"

"See, now that could be a problem."

"Why?"

I set down the coffee filter on the counter, scratching the back of my head. "Though the mall is fucking huge and easy to spot, it's hard to get there from here. You have to take certain back roads and alleys to navigate from downtown to the main city. You could always take the highway but then it's a roundabout trip and takes twice as long to get there."

"That's a horrible marketing strategy." Quinn noted dully. "How am I supposed to get there then?"

"I guess I could show you." The words were out of my mouth before I stop them. Both of us looked surprised at my sudden act of kindness. Quinn's eyes were wide behind her sunglasses, emotions swirling with confusion. I didn't even know why I offered; maybe some prideful part of me wanted to show her around and point out everything she didn't know. Would it make me feel better to help out someone who needed it? Especially since I never did that back then.

I winced, now realizing my intent. My subconscious brought up the promise I swore to her, and I swallowed hard.

"Are you serious?" Quinn asked skeptically.

"As a heart attack," I said hoarsely, then cleared my throat, trying not to think of the woman currently running through my thoughts. "Meet me here tomorrow at closing time."

Quinn smirked, scooping up her coffees and hopping off the bar stool once more. Making her way to the door, where it chimed as she pushed her way through, she called over her shoulder with a chuckle. "It's a date."

As she passed through the threshold, a familiar mop of blonde hair shone in the light, just as the ebony collided with it. Quinn roughly shoved past Cassadee, who shot a dark glare at the former, a look I had never seen her muster before. Cass flipped her hair with a hmph as Quinn departed before making her way to where I stood behind the counter. Taking a seat in the spot Quinn had been in moments ago, my best friend announced declaratively, "There's something off about that girl."

I could only nod before replying back with a hesitant, "I know, and I intend to find out what it is."

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-Isa x