Are You Mine?

by N. K. Smith

  “We’re staying here?”

  “Yep.”

  Fox takes my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake. “Saige!”

  I mirror his expression and say, “Fox!”

  “Why are we in Chicago?”

  This is what I’ve been excited to reveal since coming up with the idea. I press my lips together like I’m not going to tell him, but the nervous tickle in my belly balloons into something unstoppable. I pull out the printed tickets from my bag and casually hand them over.

  A little of my enjoyment dies because I forgot how hard reading is for Fox, but he’s working at it. He is moving his eyes slowly over the bold letters, and finally, he looks up at me. “You’re taking me to an Avett Brother’s concert?”

  There is nothing I can say to match the expression on his face. His lips are stretched in the biggest smile I’ve ever seen—on him or anyone. His chocolate eyes are glinting and gleaming; all of the sudden a bit watery. Fox is vibrant with happiness brought by two little pieces of paper held tightly in his hands.

  “Saige!”

  “Fox!” I say again.

  “You’re. . .I mean. . .Oh, man.”

  I chuckle as I pull out some bills to pay the cabbie. “I didn’t think it was possible to make you speechless.”

  As soon as the cab driver has the money, I turn to the door, intending to pop it open, but Fox grabs my waist and pulls me to him. I twist to face him and am pressed back into the seat. His mouth is on mine. With his tongue, he carefully encourages mine to slide against his. With just the tiniest shift of his neck, Fox pulls his mouth from mine and glides his lips down my jaw, to just below my ear. I can hear his breath. So close. Every tiny sensation seems to ripple down my body like a pleasant hurricane inflicting beautiful havoc within me.

  Fox moves his hands up just a little from my waist until his thumbs touch the sides of my breasts, and the moment I take a small gasp of air, he covers my mouth with his again.

  A cough and a tap on the car horn breaks our connection. The cabbie stares at us. He obviously wants us to do this outside his vehicle. I say nothing as I get out, but Fox thanks the guy for his time and wishes him a good day before hopping out and grabbing our bags from the trunk.

  Just like the hotel in New York, Fox is awed by the grandeur of this one. It makes me wonder where he’s planning on staying while in England. Probably not a five-star hotel. He’ll probably stay at youth hostels. Now, I know nothing about hostels beyond the few glimpses I’ve had from travel shows, but I don’t enjoy the image of Fox sleeping on a tiny bunk with dudes he doesn’t know.

  But it’s his trip, not mine.

  “Saigey-poo, this hotel is crazy. We should’ve just stayed—”

  Although he’s usually the one to interrupt, I stop him. “We’re staying here. We’re not staying at a cheap motel because I can afford better and because I want this trip to be awesome. We’re not going to go to the concert tomorrow night and come back to a raggedy old mattress inside a room with dingy, dirty wallpaper and a broken toilet that smells. Okay? We’re staying here. It’s beautiful and clean, and you’re going to love it.”

  Even though he’s carrying two bags, Fox sweeps me up and twirls me around once. I can almost feel everyone’s eyes on us, but I don’t mind it so much. When he puts me down, I take his hand and lead him to the front desk.

  “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Peninsula Hotel.”

  “Thank you!” Fox says before I can respond. “This place is. . .wow!”

  The guy behind the desk just smiles at him in a polite way.

  I take over. “Saige Armstrong. I booked an executive suite.”

  The man types on the keyboard. “Ah, yes. Departing Sunday morning?”

  “I’ve never been to Chicago,” Fox says. “How awesome of a town is this? I mean, really.”

  “Well, sir, Chicago boasts—”

  Fox holds up his hands. “I don’t want the normal speech.”

  “The what, sir?”

  “The normal speech you give to everyone else,” Fox explains with a grin. “I want what you say to out-of-town relatives or friends you’re trying to get to visit. Tell me what’s awesome about Chicago.”

  I fear by the clerk’s expression, he might say something condescending to Fox, but I’m surprised when a little light sparks in the man’s eyes. “Everyone loves the planetarium and the aquarium, but there’s a nighttime bike tour of the city that is just incredible. And everyone always wants to go up into the Willis Tower, but—”

  “The what?” Fox asks.

  “Used to be the Sears Tower. Anyway, the tourists love doing that, but I think if you’re interested in something other than a tall building, you should check out Frank Lloyd Wright’s homes. The architectural significance is something not to be missed. And while you could go to the Navy Pier for the ferris wheel and amusement, I’d tell you to spend your time at Cuneo Museum and Gardens. It’s a little outside of town, but the drive is well worth it.” The clerk looks to me, then back to Fox. “It’s beautiful and romantic.”

  “Thanks, man,” Fox says with genuine enthusiasm. He holds out his hand to the guy and they shake. It still amazes me how easy it is for Fox to make friends.

  ***

  “Come on, Saige. Dance!” Fox says as he moves around like someone possessed by the music.

  I’m not sure what happened to the past day and a half. It feels like it’s just flown by. Because this trip is mainly for him, I let him pick the itinerary, so after checking in last night and grabbing dinner, he forced me on a bicycle tour of the city. Thank you, hotel clerk. My thighs are still sore from all the peddling, but Fox had a great time, and if I have to admit, I did too.

  Before the concert we shopped and ate, but Fox wanted to rest before the show. I didn’t get it until now. Fox isn’t the only one dancing to The Avett Brothers. It seems like this entire section is moving. To be honest, the music and the band’s energy is infectious.

  “No one can see us,” Fox yells over the music as he takes my hands and forces me to dance.

  “Everyone can see us!” I shout back.

  “But no one’s watching. Dance, girl!”

  And so I do. I give myself over to the collective spirit of the crowd, and before I know it, the night is over. As the band leaves the stage a final time, they toss things into the crowd. I’m not sure if it’s meant for him, but Fox snags a fingerpick out of the air.

  He holds it reverently for a moment, before looking back up on stage and yelling his thanks. He turns to me, face aglow with the thrill of the concert and having such a special keepsake. “Oh, my God, Saige. I have Scott Avett’s banjo pick.”

  I nod. “That’s awe—”

  “I mean, he used this the entire night!”

  “Yep. And now it’s yours.”

  Fox picks me up and twirls me around. It’s not the first time he does it, but I still have to stop myself from pushing away from him. I don’t really want to get away, but it’s not comfortable to be picked up.

  We’re quiet and subdued in the cab back to the hotel. We leave tomorrow and head back to our regular lives, but neither of us are thinking about that right now. Fox is cradling the pick in one hand and holding mine with the other as we both lean back against the seat.

  “I love you, you know,” he says in a quiet voice.

  I turn my head to look at him.

  He locks his eyes on mine and says, “I can’t believe you flew me to Chicago to see The Avett Brothers.”

  “There’s another concert in Camden in a few weeks. I bought us tickets.”

  He gathers me into his arms and holds me close to him. “You are a spoiler, do you know that?”

  “Spoil? Like in a bad way?” I ask.

  “No, but I like being with you even without fancy hotels and concerts.”

  “But seeing The Avetts live isn’t bad, is it?”

  “No,” he says with a chuckle. “Thanks for giving it to me.”

  In the hotel room
, I laugh as Fox sings “The Ballad of Love and Hate” in a very dramatic manner. He has a hold of my hand and is dancing us through the room. I’m not sure how he does it, but he manages to navigate between furniture and doorways until we’re in the bedroom of the suite.

  Just as he sings the last line and holds it, the backs of his legs hit the bed, and he sits. With his hands on my waist, he stretches his neck up. Fox wants a kiss, and I want to give it to him.

  I step into his space. Fox brings his legs closer to mine so his thighs trap my knees. He is tall enough I don’t have to lean far to reach his lips, which is good since when my lips touch his, my body feels boneless, weightless, fragile yet strong.

  I don’t have enough experience kissing before this to know I’d like the closeness, but I know it now. The way his heat radiates through the small spaces between us and penetrates my flesh is a sensation like none other I’ve had. Soon, Fox moves his hands down, over my hips and slides them down the outsides of my thighs. He curls them around the back and brings them up.

  It’s difficult, but I try not to be so shocked and girlish when I feel the palms of his hands flat against the back pockets of my jeans. With gently applied pressure, he brings me flush to him. It makes kissing him more awkward, so I try to pull away.

  Fox doesn’t let me.

  Instead, he brings one hand back up to my waist and tugs me until I’m sitting on one of his legs. Once there, he sweeps my hair away from my neck and starts kissing a spot that makes my toes curl inside my shoes.

  “Maybe I should. . .” I stop my words as shivers run down from that spot on my neck. “I probably smell like the concert. Maybe I should. . .”

  “You smell wonderful,” he says, lips still against my flesh. With one of his hands cupping the side of my face, he turns my head back to him and kisses me again. Everything is happening so fast, and yet it feels like slow motion.

  It takes little effort on either of our part to lie back on the bed. Likewise, it takes no thought to remove my shirt after his hands have bunched it up near my breasts. I kick off my shoes without thinking about it, and without consciously knowing I’ve told them to, I realize my hands are underneath Fox’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head until he’s half naked.

  We’ve made out in the past, and there have been some heavy touches, but I’ve never been chest to chest with him like this. The only thing limiting the experience is my bra, so I take my hands from him, twist them around while arching my back and unclasp the strap.

  For some reason, I can’t look him in the eyes, so I focus on his mouth. His lips are parted and for just a split second, he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip. Fox removes my bra, then covers one naked breast with his hand.

  I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he nudges my face with his chin until my eyes are locked with his. My first instinct is to look away because too much eye contact is overwhelming, but I make myself hold his gaze. I am perfectly calm. He’s smiling at me through his eyes as his hand carefully manipulates the flesh of my body.

  Before I know it, he’s down to his underwear, and I’m only wearing my panties. His hands are in places no other guy’s have been because the time with Tommy St. John wasn’t like this.

  Fox lifts himself up onto his elbows, then leans his head down to me. The stubble on his jaw scratches at the skin on my chin. With his lips close to my ear, he asks, “Is this okay?”

  I nod, but then realize nonverbal communication in a time like this probably isn’t the best, so I say, “Yes.”

  He lowers himself down onto me again, tucks his thumbs into the waistline of my panties and somehow removes them without pulling away. My belly is full of nerves, and I feel like my shaky breath isn’t providing enough oxygen. I really want this with him, so as soon as he’s finished taking off his boxers, I smile at the newness of the sensation of full flesh on flesh. I can feel the smile on my face falter just a little when he fiddles with the condom, but soon, he kisses me, and it calms the wild butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  No words are spoken between us, and I keep my eyes fixed on his forehead for as long as I can. When we are as close as two people can be, he kisses me with such tenderness I have to close my eyes to appreciate it fully.

  It’s not like in the movies where love scenes are slow and carefully practiced. Our bodies move fast and there is no over-the-top orchestral arrangement disguising the noises we make. But this is better than in the movies, because this is real. This is Fox’s passion meeting mine. While there is a little nagging part of my mind worrying about if I’m doing it right and if he likes it, for the most part, I keep myself focused only on the here and now; the movements we make; the beauty of what we’re doing.

  At some point, he rolls us over, and I’m on top of him. I feel so incapable and immature, and all of the sudden, I freeze. My body won’t move and my mind won’t work.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says as he sweeps the hair away from my face with both his hands. He brings one hand to cup my cheek, the other to my hip.

  And with his words and his touch, I melt.

  Chapter 18

  Fox

  I wake up the day after the concert to an empty bed. It takes me a second to realize I’m in a hotel room. Saige isn’t in bed next to me, but I can hear the shower running, so it’s not a mystery where she is. I lift the covers and glance down at my naked body. Every single second of the night before floods back into my mind.

  Thinking about having sex with Saige and knowing she’s naked in the shower pushes my thoughts to having more sex with Saige. I have to fight to gain control because I don’t even know how she feels about what we did last night. She said she was fine with it and after, she kissed me and pushed the hair off my forehead with such care that I was sure that is what perfection feels like.

  I’m pretty sure she enjoyed it, but with Saige, I always worry about things changing. Maybe with the morning light, she’s realized it was too soon or that we’re not right for each other. Maybe it will make it weird between us now that we’ve done it.

  As I shove my legs over the side of the bed, find my boxers and slide them on, I’m filled with determination to take any awkwardness out of this morning. While I feel like getting into the shower with her, I don’t. It sounds sexy and seems like it’d be a romantic-type thing to do, it could backfire. Saige is insecure when it comes to her body. I think she’s hot, but it doesn’t matter what I think. It matters how she feels, so getting in the shower with her might make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want that.

  Instead, I pick up the phone and order food. I’m starving, and I’m sure she’ll want breakfast before we check out. When the food is delivered, I set it out on the table and start the coffee. As soon as Saige appears in the doorway of the bedroom, I point to the table and smile.

  She looks from me, to the food, back to me, and then away again, so I pick up two muffins. I use them as puppets as I act out an old joke. “Once upon a time, in a land, far, far away, two muffins were being warmed by the kitchen fire. One muffin said, ‘Man, it sure is hot over here.’ And the other muffin looks at him and yells, ‘Oh, my God, a talking muffin!’”

  I toss the muffin who played the frightened one in my joke to Saige. She catches it, and she breaks a smile. “You’re silly.”

  I sit when she does, then try to be as much of a proper gentleman as I know how to be. I pour her coffee across the table, push the butter over to her, ask her if the eggs and bacon look all right, but I can’t stand it anymore. I push my chair back, round the table, and kiss her.

  “Good morning,” I say as I pull away. “Sorry if my breath stinks. Someone was hogging the bathroom.”

  She laughs, and it’s good to hear. Once I’m seated again, I pick at my muffin. I want her to say something, but she doesn’t, so I launch into another joke. “So do you know why the cookie goes to the doctor?”

  “Because he feels crummy?”

  I make an exaggerated noise, like I’m super annoye
d that she has already heard my joke, but as I’m looking at her, I’m anything but annoyed. She’s beautiful, and the fact that she let me make love with her warms my soul.

  I don’t know if we should avoid addressing last night. I’m not usually the type of guy who needs to be reassured about almost anything, but I am filled with doubt and feel incredibly vulnerable at the moment.

  “So about what we did,” I start to say, but she interrupts before I can finish.

  “I liked it.”

  I breathe a little easier. “Me, too.”

  And just like that, I feel fantastic and wish our trip could be extended, not because I want to do anything else in Chicago, but just because when we go back to Pechimu, we’ll resume our regular lives. We’ll be separated by my work schedule and the fact that we don’t live together.

  “Do you want to do it again before we take off?”

  I feel my jaw drop open a bit, and when my eyes find her, I take a second to collect my thoughts. “You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You’re creative. You make me feel awesome when I’m around you.” I pause for dramatic effect and raise both eyebrows. “And you like sex? You are the perfect woman, Saige Armstrong.”

  There is no better response to my words than her blush.

  ***

  I’m back at the warehouse the next morning, and it’s hard to stay grounded because it has been so long since I’ve felt this good. It’s not sex with Saige that has me floating on a cloud—although I have to admit, that is awesome on its own. It’s more that Saige loves me enough to share herself with me.

  Also, I don’t feel dumb around her. It’s not like Natasha. I have no doubt Saige is just as intelligent as my old girlfriend, but Saige doesn’t use huge words that I have no idea what they mean or how to even begin to spell them. As selfish and sad as it is to admit it, Saige doesn’t have parents to tell her how stupid I am and how beneath her I am. In fact, I think her grandmother likes me.