by A. J. Banner
“Did you both have clothes in your purses?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Brooke explains as Miranda just shrugs it off like this is how she arrived.
“Fine, let’s go before I change my mind.”
One last look in the mirror by the front door, I pull up at the silky material draped over my shoulder. Instead of wearing a dress, I settle on a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder gray chiffon top paired with a pair of gray heels. Just as the elevator doors close, my phone vibrates in my hand. I can’t help the smile that dances when I see that it’s Paxton calling.
“Don’t answer it! Send him to voicemail or I’ll make you go out every night with me for a month.” Brooke’s voice is stern, letting me know she means business.
“Why?”
“Because as soon as you answer, you’ll change your mind or be in a mood all night. Tonight is about three friends going out to have a great time. That means the one who has a penis isn’t allowed to join in on the fun tonight. You can do this, hit the red button.”
Blowing out all the air in my lungs, I tap the reject button and decide to turn my phone off before putting it back inside my clutch. I know that he’ll leave me a message, and if I don’t call back within an hour Paxton will call again. Instead of having to force myself to ignore him, it’s better that the phone stays off until I arrive back home.
“I’m proud of you, Annabelle,” Miranda approves while leaning her head down on my shoulder.
“Why?”
“Because you’re letting loose, if only for one night, and you rejected his call which I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do.”
“Do you think he knows I sent him to voicemail.”
“Yep, and it serves him right.”
I can’t help but laugh at Miranda’s comment. I just hope that by morning I’m still laughing.
Chapter Two
Paxton
Making my way through security, my stride slows before the monitors to double-check my gate, while verifying that it’s on time. As my eyes scan the screens, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Noticing that it’s time for a haircut and shave. It’s been four months since a pair of shears has been close to my scalp. My typical style of tight cut around the ears and shag-style top has turned into a shaggy dog style all over. The dark chocolate curls that I keep trimmed are wild and reckless. Not to mention the once before shadow on my face resembles a half-grown beard. Locating my gate, I force my long legs to carry me toward the sitting section outside the loading zone. I take my seat, allowing my steel-blue eyes to gaze upon the other travelers. I can’t help but wonder who’s going home to see a loved one, traveling for business, or even just hopping on a plane to take a quick trip alone. Only a few hours ago, I was one of those people excited to be traveling home. Then it turned to dread when my boss called at the last minute requesting that I head overseas to Japan. Realizing that it was just another article on the top ten places to see, I declined and told them to send the new kid. The last seven years have been filled with more miles in the sky than I think I’ve had on earth. The constant jet lag, different languages, and cultures have taken a toll on my body. I ache all over from the lack of sleeping in a standard bed. There are times when we camp out in a tent on the hard ground of the earth, bungalows and, if we’re lucky, a simple hotel. My back cries out to curl up in the bed that I supplied for Annabelle’s spare bedroom. The therapeutic mattress that should never go more than a night or two unused is calling me. Before my boss called, my ticket was printed for JFK International Airport.
The moment I stepped up to the counter to change it, I turned and walked away. I’m not sure if it was from being tired, or the lack of return message from Annabelle when I sent her a text explaining that I had to cancel our weekend. I knew she’d be disappointed. In the past I’d call and let her down easy; today it felt weird to dial her number. I took the chicken shit way out of that deal. The mere thought of hearing the disappointment in her voice caused my chest to ache. She’s the one person in my life whose opinion of me is valuable. The one who I never want to let down, nor see a frown drawn on her beautiful face.
Okay, let’s be honest. My Belle is everything to me. She’s my best friend, the one who misses me most when I’m traveling. The one who knows pretty much everything about me—except one thing that I haven’t shared with her yet. I plan to do that in person. Oh, and she might be oblivious to the fact that I love her. It’s taken me a few years to realize this, but I have no idea if she feels the same. We tell each other that we love the other one, but that could be a friendly I love you and not the deep soul-crunching love that others have. Back in high school, I wanted to tell her so many times, but I lost the balls to do that when my parents went through their divorce. Then we had college, and I wanted her to experience life, never have a moment that she’d feel like she missed out on anything. It’s also why I took this job and never finished school. The longer I was on her arm, friend or not, guys would never look her way. It would’ve been hard to sit back and watch the douche bags fall all over her, especially when I should’ve been the fool doing it. That’s the one secret that I’ve kept from her all these years. Annabelle thought the job offer was one in a million that I would never get the chance to do again. I knew it could’ve been a possibility, but I also knew that I’d find another after school. Some might say I took a shortcut and walked away instead of manning up to life. Either way, tonight, this ticket in my hand is taking me to the person I want to see the most. Excitement’s not coursing its way through my veins just yet. I have no idea what’s been going on for the last four months, other than what she’s said on our calls. Belle could be dating a guy for all I know, or not. Over the years that’s the one thing that we both shied away from. Neither of us hides it, we just skirt around it. The simple I have a date, or I had dinner with so and so. My leg starts to bounce uncontrollably as I begin to think about what I might walk in on. Tapping the side of my phone against my leg, I toy around with either calling to let her know plans have changed or do I continue with my surprise. I’m not going to land until after two in the morning, and she could be asleep when I arrive which would end up scaring the crap out of her. I could use my key to just let myself in if she’s out, but the last I heard she’s not been going out. I slide the phone open, taking in the background picture of the two of us from my recent trip home. We’d taken a selfie in the middle of the airport before we said our goodbyes. I was lucky to have spent three full weeks with her before this last project started. I might be away more than I’m home, but the time I get off is longer than most. I tap her name, place the phone up to my ear, and as soon as it starts to ring, I can tell she has sent me to voicemail. Checking the time, I know she’s not at work since it’s a little after ten in the evening her time. I wait a few minutes before dialing again, only this time I go straight to voicemail. That’s odd, her phone is never turned off. Standing to stretch my legs, I wander over to the gift shop. Not that I need anything they offer, but it’s an excellent way to keep my mind off the reason she’s ignoring me. It has to be more than her thinking I’m missing this weekend. It’s out of character for her. My chest restricts with pain—something I’ve never felt before as my mind thinks of the worst things possible.
Is she on a date?
Is she that pissed that she refuses to speak to me?
What if she has someone over and they don’t know about our friendship?
What if something’s happened to her, and her battery died?
The last thought has me sending a text to Miranda, one of our mutual friends. I know she’ll text back unlike Brooke who won’t answer my calls if she knows Belle is upset with me. However, if I call over and over again—she’ll respond.
Me: Have you heard from Belle? Tried to call Belle, but can’t reach her… Worried…
I run my hands through my hair, grabbing a little harder than needed as my mind races with what-ifs. Just as I go to redial Belle again, the flight attendant cal
ls for boarding. Marching out of the gift shop toward my gate, I hit her number once again, only to get the same sultry voice she has for her greeting. This time I decide to leave a message just in case she checks it.
“Belle, it’s me, Pax. I just wanted to check on you and make sure that you’re okay. Call me when you get this. I’m about to board my flight now, so leave a message. Okay, well lo… talk soon.” I utter the words quickly as I hand my boarding pass to the check-in. Hiking up my camera bag to my shoulder, I continue down the terminal toward the plane. Locating my seat, I stuff my bag in the overhead compartment before plopping down. Seated, a long breath of air emits from my lungs as dread overcomes me. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve missed out on more than I thought.
It seems like hours after boarding that the voice over the intercom instructs us to turn our electronic devices off. Pulling my phone out, I notice that Miranda texted back, but it’s complete silence from Belle.
Miranda: Yes, she’s fine—she went out. I’m sure she’ll call you tomorrow.
Powering down, I place my phone down in the briefcase between my legs before I lean back and close my eyes. Instantly, I’m taken back to our childhood.
“Pax, you can’t always be the X. What if I want to be the X? It’s like sharing the cookies with me that your mom packs in your lunch.”
“It’s simple, Belle—the X is for boys, and the O is for girls. That’s why I’ll always be it in the game. Now, mark your place and prepare to lose once again.”
“I don’t want to play anymore,” she says as she wraps her arms around her chest and pokes out her lip toward me.
“Fine, I’ll make a deal with you…”
“What kind of deal and, no—I’m not going to kiss the dog again if you win.”
“You’re never going to forgive me for that, are you?”
“No, because it was mean.”
“Fine, I’ll never do it again, but do you want to make a deal?”
“What kind of deal this time?”
“If you win this round, you can be the X for the next month. If I win, you have to go to the dance with me. I don’t want to ask anyone else.”
Belle pauses, then looks down at the paper before responding, “What if I don’t want to go to the dance? Why do we have to go? It’s a silly end of school dance before going to middle school.”
“Because that’s what people do. We can’t sit around and watch TV all the time or play games—we have to be social.”
“Fine, Pax, it’s a deal,” she agrees as she gestures out her hand to shake on it with me. After a few more moves, I have the winning spot. She’s already noticed it. I can tell from the dramatic eye roll she gives me as soon as she places her O in the bottom right corner.
“Shall I finish the game, or just leave it so I can have proof that you’re going to the dance with me?”
“Whatever, why can’t you ask Iris to go. You know she likes you.”
“Because girls want too much, and I rather go with my best friend. We can sit in the bleachers and watch everyone.”
“That we can do.”
The rest of the afternoon we spent running around my backyard, with her sulking because she lost another game to me. I couldn’t have been happier because the last thing I wanted to do was go to some stupid dance with someone else. With Belle by my side, things were easy. I didn’t have to pretend to like things that her friends would talk about. They weren’t like Belle; no, she made everything simple. Not to mention, she couldn’t back down from a dare or a challenge. Which is why each and every time I want her to do something that I want to do, I get her to play our game so I can kick butt and take names later.
The hard touchdown jolts me awake. Remembering now that I’m on a plane, I stretch my arms a little as I turn my neck from side to side. Quickly I turn my phone back on, giving it time to register before I search for communication again from Belle. By the time we slide into our terminal, there’s not one single notification from her. I notice the time—two twenty-three in the morning. Maybe she went home and fell right to sleep. If I don’t hear anything from Belle, I’ll just head to bed after leaving a note on the counter for her in the morning.
With my bags next to me, I hail a taxi as soon as I step out of the airport. At this time in the morning, there’s not much traffic. In five short minutes, I’ll be standing at her doorstep. The thought occurs to me on the ride over that there’s a chance she might have company. I try again to send a text to Belle.
Me: Wanted to surprise you. I’ve not heard back, and I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’m headed your way—see ya in five.
If her phone’s back on, she’ll hear the alert. If not, I pray for the best when I walk in.
Chapter Three
Annabelle
I can’t believe Brooke and Miranda talked me into staying out until the bar closed. It’s been months since I’ve been awake at three in the morning. Not to mention, out of my apartment at this time. Most nights I’m curled up in my bed either working, reading, or surfing through channels if I can’t sleep at this hour. My feet are protesting each step I take as I head toward the elevator in my building. The throbbing that’s radiating up the back of my legs is just another reminder that I’m not used to this kind of activity. Balancing against the wall, I throw caution to the side and slide out of my heels. The coolness from the tiles below gives the bottom of my feet relief. Stepping inside the cart, I hit my floor and lean against the steel. Just as I’m about to close my eyes and the doors close, I swear I hear Paxton’s strangled voice. I know it isn’t him and just my mind playing tricks on me. I have to admit that the girls had a great idea this evening, as they kept me from thinking about my other plans that got washed away. There were only a handful of moments when I stopped dancing long enough and missed him. Not to mention, the times when I had to dodge guys on the dance floor. It’s nights like this that I wish my male sidekick was here. He never tried to stop me from chatting it up with a guy, but we had a signal between us so we’d know to step in and act like the other’s partner. I would twirl my hair around my fingers, cocking my head to the side. To verify that I truly needed saving, I’d let out the loudest laugh that only Paxton would know was fake. I’m talking about past the hyena sound that I emit when I’m doubled over with laughter. For Paxton, he’d go to the bar and order a shot of whiskey as he usually stuck with beer when we were out. Once the bartender would hand it to him he’d stall before taking a sip, tapping the rim of the glass twice before swirling the amber liquid around and gulping down the entire drink. It took us a few times to perfect this, but after a few tries, it was an act of deception. So much so that Brooke and Miranda couldn’t even tell when we were trying to escape. It worked like a charm on those not paying attention and even those who were.
Stepping out into the hallway, I head toward my door with my shoes and keys in my hand. All I can think of at this moment is stripping down out of these clothes and face-planting into my pillow where I can sleep the many drinks off. Right as I open the door, I hear the faint ding echoing down from the elevators. Shrugging it off, I enter my apartment and lock up behind me. I guess I find it odd that someone else would be wandering the halls this late or early. I’m never out at this time and have no idea what the neighbors do after I fall asleep. A new male neighbor moved in a few weeks ago. I already had the pleasure of bumping into him while trying to not spill my coffee one morning. I still deny that it was his looks that threw me off.
I drop my keys into the bowl next to the door before heading straight to my room where I lose my heels and strip out of my shirt and bra. Right as I unbuckle my jeans, I hear a faint knock, so low that I’m not sure if it’s my door or a bump against the wall from next door. Knock… knock… echoes again. I grab my shirt from the floor, slide it over my head, and go to investigate the sound that’s causing the hairs on my neck to stand. Rounding the kitchen island, my feet dig into the ceramic tile as the lock on my door twists. I’m frozen in place… U
nable to move anything on my body as I hold my breath waiting to see what’s happening. It’s now that my mind races with all the horror movies I’ve screamed at over the years. The ones where the girl is either running up the stairs to hide from the intruder instead of outside to safety. Or where they just stand there as if a target is placed on their chest. Just pick one, because I’m that girl at this moment. My face is frozen, ice coursing through my veins. The hairs on the back of my neck are at full attention as if we are standing to pledge to the flag. My eyes stare straight ahead as the door opens in slow motion. Saying a little prayer, I close my eyes and wait for what’s going to happen next. Fear overtakes me, consuming my body, mind—everything.
“Belle, what are you doing?” I hear his voice, but then I’m afraid to open my eyes. Could it be possible that two people in this world have the same husky voice that makes me weak in the knees?
With my eyes still squeezed shut, my other senses go on high alert. The drop of a bag, the tap-taps of a set of shoes against the tile grow louder and louder as the person gets closer to me. “Belle, open your eyes and breathe before you pass out.”
Slowly, I do as he instructed. That’s the moment that I lean against the counter for support as I thank God that it wasn’t a killer that had a key to my place. Paxton’s face scrunches up as he reaches over for me.
“What were you doing?”
“I thought you were here to kill me; I was bracing myself for the worst.”
“What have I told you about watching those horror movies, huh? You let them get to you, and why would a killer use a key?”
“I don’t know; they could’ve made a copy when I wasn’t paying attention, or it could’ve been the security guard—who knows… What are you doing here?”
“Not the welcome I thought I’d receive, but my plans changed. You were more important to come see.”