Wherever You Will Go

by Stephanie Smith

  Last night we had sex. No, not just sex. Great sex. Toe curling, mind blowing sex. The world didn’t end after. The floor didn’t fall out from under us. We are both adults. Both consenting.

  Going with the flow ... yes, I can do that.

  I jump out of bed to stop the torturous thoughts going on and on. My body breaks out in goose bumps as the coldness in the air bites my skin, so I grab my red with pink polka dot flannel pyjamas out of the drawer.

  After getting dressed, I head into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and carry it over to the couch after deciding the balcony will be too chilly. Sitting on the couch cross-legged, I drink half the orange juice before placing it on the coffee table and grabbing the remote.

  Leaning back, I switch the TV on and begin channel surfing while thinking about what I should do today. A day in my pyjamas and some mindless television sounds perfect. I search my mind to see if I have the correct unhealthy, full-of-fat-and-sugar snacks. I’d hate to have to change to go down to the supermarket.

  While I adjust the pillow to lie down on the couch my phone rings from the bedroom. I jump up and run to my room. Why do phones never ring for long enough before they go to voicemail?

  As I make it to my bedside table I glance at the screen and see Rachel flashing on it. Hell no, I am not answering that. As soon as I speak to her I’ll break down and tell her everything. I’m not ready for that. She’ll want me to explain it all to her, and I can’t even explain it to myself yet.

  Grabbing the phone, and the hair-tie which rests next to it, I throw my phone in my top pocket and tie my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head.

  Making my way back to the couch, I stop off in the kitchen and grab the caramel popcorn and peppermint chocolate bar first. If eating this junk for breakfast is wrong then I don’t want to be right.

  Surfing the channels, I land on some old episodes of Jersey Shore. It’s my guilty pleasure. If anyone ever even mentions it I pretend I haven’t heard of it. Who are the characters? The Satisfaction, Sneakie, K Pow? I have no idea.

  Secretly, I know their names and have watched every season. Three times. Nate would kill me if I made him watch it, and it was always something I had to record and enjoy when he was working late.

  The thought makes me sad. I don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, like being forced to watch sports, Air Crash Investigations or Tosh.O. Who I am kidding? I love Tosh.O, that guy is twisted.

  I go to the recording menu of the TV and see all the Tosh.Os which have been recorded. At some point in the last six months the recorder has filled up and is no longer recording. I don’t feel like dealing with that right now so I return to Jersey Shore and set in for a relaxing day.

  It’s not long into the episode when my doorbell rings. Who would come over without calling first?

  Rachel. Shit. She did call. Twice. Shit, shit, shit. It’s going to be worse talking to her face to face. I should have answered the phone and faked sick. Shit.

  I head to the door, still clutching at a piece of peppermint chocolate and trying to dissolve the large piece in my mouth. Swinging open the door I yell, “What the hell, bitch?”

  Saxon’s eyes are wide and he has an amused grin on his face. “Well, good morning to you too.”

  My mouth is hanging open, and I know all the blood has rushed from my face. I’m shocked and not only because Saxon is here, but because he stands before me in dark wash jeans with a tight black t-shirt. It has been years since I’ve seen him in anything but a suit or tuxedo. He looks so much younger dressed casually. Less stressed and almost more… carefree.

  Shaking those thoughts, I meet his eyes. “I thought you were Rach. What do you want?” My words come out more harshly than I intended, and Saxon’s smile turns to a frown, his eyes losing their sparkle.

  My stomach twists and there’s something about him frowning which turns my gut. I don’t like it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised to see you. What’s up?” I ask in a much more friendly tone.

  He looks up at me, nervousness shining in those bright green eyes. “I wanted to see if I could take you out today?” The confident, cocky Saxon is gone, and I would’ve never believed this insecure one existed underneath.

  He wants to take me on a date? Hell no.

  “Bugger, I’m actually just on my way out,” I say with fake disappointment.

  Saxon raises his eyebrows at me, and the cocky bastard is back. “Really?” he says as he looks me up and down. I follow his eyes down to my outfit.

  Sometimes even I can’t believe how stupid I am. I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest in defiance, as I also remember not only am I in my flannel pyjamas but I don’t have a bra on. He smiles a cocky smile while looking at my chest, clearly letting me know he caught that also.

  Knowing I’ve been caught and not sure where to go from here I decide blunt is best. “You should’ve called.”

  “I knew if I called you wouldn’t have answered. Especially after last night,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine.

  I look away from his intense stare. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that again.” Frustration is clear in my tone.

  “We’re not going to discuss it again, but we’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen either, Brooke.” His voice is determined, and I know he’s not going to concede on that.

  I look past him out into the street, lifting my chin in defiance while my arms are still crossed over my chest. Saxon sighs deeply, which causes me to bring my eyes back to him. “You said we were okay, Brooke. You said we were all right and things wouldn’t be weird. I’m here as a friend wanting to take you out. It’s a beautiful day, and you clearly had plans to lie in bed all day. I don’t want to spend all weekend in my study. Let’s keep each other company. As friends do. Let me take you out.”

  “I wasn’t planning to lie in bed all day. I was actually on the couch,” I huff like a petulant child.

  He stares at me in silence, not even bothering to respond. I think back to this morning and the decision I made, deciding to just go with the flow and stop analysing every little thing.

  I huff and open the door wide, stepping back to let him in. A huge smile lights up his face as he passes me, and it melts something inside me. He doesn’t smile often. Not nearly as often as he should when his smile is that intoxicating. I hate how I notice that. Is that new?

  Has last night made me look at him differently? Made me see intimate things about him like his smile that I normally wouldn’t notice.

  Realising I’ve been standing at the front door for a much longer period than is necessary, I quickly close it and head into the lounge room. There is yelling come from the TV and I find Saxon standing there, watching. He turns to me with a cocky smirk on his face, “Really?” he asks.

  I look to the TV and find it’s the episode where Snookie and Angelina get into a punch-up. There’s bare ass and hair extensions flying about everywhere. “I was watching a cooking show, it must have finished,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Really? A cooking show? On MTV?” Humour laces his voice.

  “What? Do you study the cable guide?” Just as I’m asking this, the channel goes to an ad break. ‘We hope you are enjoying today’s Jersey Shore marathon. Stay with us for more after the following advertisements.’ I shake my head. Why does this shit always happen to me? “I’m going to have a shower,” I mumble as I turn to leave. Not even bothering to try and dig myself out of that hole.

  Saxon laughs a full-on belly laugh as he settles himself on my couch. “Take your time,” he says, still laughing at me. Asshole.

  Once I’ve quickly showered, blow-dried my hair, and put on a light layer of makeup, I head into my wardrobe to get dressed. I decide on my most comfortable pair of black skinny jeans and pair it with a beige floral sleeveless blouse.

  I have no idea what we are doing so I want to look casual and dressy at the same time while still being comfortable. I also don’t want
this to seem like a date, so casual for a friend’s outing it is.

  I slide my feet into my black ballet flats and dress my outfit up with a long gold necklace, dangly earrings, and a bunch of different gold bangles. Why did I agree to this?

  As I’m entering the living room Saxon is leaning forward on the couch, elbows on knees and watching the TV intently.

  Hearing me enter he looks at me with wide eyes. “Is this shit for real?” His face is full of shock and disbelief. I can’t help but crack up laughing at his reaction. “Please tell me you didn’t make Nate watch this shit. No wonder I’m single if that’s what marriage is.”

  Still laughing, I answer him, “No I didn’t, but that is what a good husband should do for his wife.” I try to make my reply sound serious.

  “If by some miracle I do ever get married, I’ll be writing it into the vows that I don’t have to watch any shit reality TV.” The sound of the word marriage from Saxon’s lips makes me stop. I tilt my head and stare at him. I bet he would make a wonderful husband.

  “What?” he asks.

  Shaking my head I quickly try to divert as I head to grab my purse and phone. “So where are we going?”

  Saxon narrows his eyes, studying me before he processes my question. “They have that international mobile art exhibit on this month downtown, and I thought you would enjoy it. This is the last weekend.”

  I stop mid-step and turn to stare at him. An art exhibit? I know Saxon has absolutely no interest in art, and he is completely doing it for my benefit. I pull in a sharp breath, and my stomach flips a little. I never would have thought he could be so selfless, thoughtful, and sweet.

  “It’s right on the river just down from the markets, and I thought we could hit those after lunch,” he continues, not noticing my shock, or choosing to ignore it.

  “That sounds wonderful,” I say. And it does. His face lights up in that wide smile of his, and I can’t help but return it as he stands from the couch to go.

  Locking up the house, I turn to see Saxon’s Dodge in the driveway. How did I not hear it this time? He smiles wide at me as he holds open the passenger door, and I lower myself into the black muscle car.

  He makes his way around and sits in the driver’s seat next to me as I look over, and it hits me that today I’m spending the day with the real Saxon. The Saxon few people get to see. For some reason this excites me more than any art exhibit.

  “You look lovely today, Brooke,” he says quietly as he keeps his eyes on the road.

  “Thank you.” I smile shyly. “You look different than I’m used to.” I try to break the tense moment.

  Saxon chuckles. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  We ride in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the exhibit. When we arrive he parks the car and comes around to open my door.

  We walk down the river bend to the exhibit. It feels weird walking next to someone I’ve become so close with, who I now know so intimately, and not be touching in some way. An arm around the shoulders or holding hands. Something. It’s almost awkward.

  As I enter the exhibit it feels like coming home, seeing an old friend after years apart. I didn’t understand how much I missed my volunteer time at the gallery.

  Saxon follows me around for the better part of an hour. He doesn’t bother me with small talk and just lets me take it all in and enjoy it.

  I find myself standing in front of an abstract painting of a young woman’s face. Very few colours are used, and her face almost looks blank, except her eyes. Her eyes tell a whole story and show all kinds of emotions. I can’t read them, and I don’t know her story, yet I feel like her face is a mirror image of my own. My face blank. My days expressionless. Will my life ever have colour again? Each stroke adds another dimension to the picture and elicits another feeling and response.

  I’m brought back to reality by the warmth of Saxon’s body stepping up behind mine. A few tears have broken free and I wipe them away quickly before he can notice. His warm breath floats over the back of my neck and my body shivers in response.

  “Do you miss it?” he whispers into my ear. “Working at the art gallery?”

  “More than I realised,” I say wistfully.

  He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. Raising a hand, he cups my face and runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping another tear which has fallen. “Brooke, you know you could have one or two days a week to volunteer at the gallery. You don’t need to be at Argo full-time. Hell, you don’t need to be there at all if it doesn’t make you happy. You know I’ll take care of it.” The concern in his eyes has my body relaxing.

  I smile up at him. “Saxon, I love being at Argo. It’s been the most positive thing to happen to me since losing Nate. I love knowing I’m helping keep his dreams alive.”

  “Nate would hate how you’ve given up your passion and love for his. He would want you at that gallery, Brooke, and you know it. I can help you do that.” There is sadness in his eyes.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, not wanting to discuss it anymore. Saxon’s face breaks into a victorious smile, and I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” I ask, scowling.

  “The last time you told me you would think about it you showed up at Argo on Monday morning,” he says, laughing at me.

  I slap his arm. “Come on, smart-ass. Feed me, I’m starving.”

  Saxon follows me out of the exhibit, still laughing behind me. I roll my eyes while breaking out in a huge smile too. Smug bastard.

  Stepping out of the art exhibit, it’s like I’m walking on a cloud. I feel light and free, and I relish the sensation. I’m more like myself. This is what I needed to remind me to relax, to reinforce my decision to stop analysing, and just let go and go with the flow. A reminder that I’m young and still alive.

  Saxon steps up next to me on the sidewalk. We’re heading to the restaurant area of the river district, and I’m enjoying the sights: young couples hold each other as they walk the streets, small children run along the grass on the river’s edge, laughing and screaming while families are parked up on picnic rugs enjoying the warm sunny day.

  The river district is a popular location. It caters to all types with monthly events, restaurants, and the local markets. No matter what day or time you come it’s always full of locals and tourists alike, enjoying the best the city has to offer.

  I’m pulled out of my daydream by Saxon’s warm hand wrapping itself lightly around my own. A small tremble runs through me as I look up to see him trying to act casual as he glances around at our surroundings. A small smile touches my lips, and I give his hand a squeeze, telling him without making an issue that’s it’s okay.

  He then intertwines our fingers together as the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. The warmth from his hand is comforting and even though I can’t explain it, there is something familiar about it. There are no butterflies. You know the ones, when you’re younger and the guy you’ve been crushing on for ages holds your hand for the first time. This feels like we’ve been doing it for years; it feels like coming home.

  I guess when you’re so used to having something, doing a certain thing for so long, it becomes a part of you. You don’t realise how you’ve missed it until you have it again. This must be it. I just miss Nate. Miss the intimacy of having someone around, after being so used to it after ten years.

  We continue our walk to the restaurant in silence while grasping each other’s hands tightly. Who knew holding hands could be so intimate? It’s like I’m giving Saxon more of myself doing this than I did when we slept together. I’m opening myself up more and letting him see more of me, making myself more vulnerable somehow.

  I also feel more guilt. This isn’t what people who are friends who had sex once, okay twice, do. This isn’t just satisfying a physical need. What if someone saw us? How would this look? My stomach is churning with all these thoughts and a lump forms in my throat, knowing the tears will be next. I don’t know why but I only squeeze Saxon’s hand tighter, like he
can protect me from these thoughts, protect me from the consequences of our actions. My actions. I should be pulling away, but instead I’m pulling him closer.

  Why not? He’s saved me plenty of times over the past few months.

  Reaching the restaurant, he lets go of my hand as he reaches forward to pull the door open for me. There is an instant feeling of loss, and I hate that I’m reacting that way.

  He places his hand on the small of my back, leading us to the table the hostess pointed out. The touch of his hand through the thin material of my blouse sends warmth through me, and Saxon tenses behind me before pulling his hand away.

  He holds my chair for me before choosing his own seat across the table. I wonder if he didn’t sit next to me on purpose, and I hate that it bothers me, that I’m even thinking about it.

  The waitress pulls me from my pouting as she places down our menus and starts rambling off the specials. I lift my menu, instantly ignoring her spiel as my mind races. I scold myself once again. I had decided this morning to let go, to not think so much and stop analysing everything. I’m already doing it again.

  As I lower my menu, Saxon is looking at me with a huge smile on his face. I can’t help but return his grin, and my stomach begins loosening up.

  “Have you decided what you want?” he asks, closing his own menu.

  Shit. I didn’t even read the menu. I was too consumed by my own thoughts. “What’s good here?” I ask, hoping he has dined here before and I don’t sound like an idiot.

  “They have one of the best steaks around. If you’re looking for something a little lighter, the salmon is great too.”

  “Oh yes, the steak and salmon are perfect choices,” the waitress says, smiling down at Saxon as he stares at me.

  “What would you like, Brooke?” He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he stares. I see the waitress push her boobs out and assume it’s not for my benefit.

  “The salmon sounds wonderful, please.” I smile sweetly over at the waitress.