by A. J. Banner
I let Paxton’s statement set in before I smile up at him. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe him in. The faint hint of the stale airport, his earthy spice, and lemon soothes my nerves.
“Are you just getting home?” he inquires, and I notice his voice hints to a bit of jealousy. That confuses me as he’s never been the jealous type. One to worry about my well-being—yes, but not curious about where I’ve been or with whom.
“I am,” I answer as I pull away from him and step over to the fridge. Opening it up, I grab a bottle of water before glancing back over to Paxton. His hands are gripping the edge of the countertop, face blank not revealing any indication of what he’s thinking. “Want something to drink or eat?” is the only thing that I can think to ask.
“No, I’m good. I think I’m just going to head to bed.”
“Paxton,” I let his name slip from my mouth to stop him. He slows his stride over to his bags, turns to look at me and, before I can say anything else, wanders over to me.
“Belle, get some sleep, and we’ll chat in the morning,” is all he says before placing a kiss on top of my head. I stand here in the middle of my kitchen with a bottle of water in my hand, watching his back retreat from me to the spare bedroom. I’m not sure how long I stand here, confused and unable to move. It’s the sound of the shower turning on that breaks me from my thoughts. Causing me to realize that this isn’t a dream. Instead of sulking from the blow off that I just received from Paxton, I force myself to go to my room. Closing the door behind me, I pad over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and a top to change into. The sound of the water still running through the pipes on the other side of my bedroom causes my heart to beat faster. I can’t explain the way I feel right now. How I’m confused about what I should be feeling. I’m blaming the amount of alcohol that’s in my system. It’s not like he’s never showered here before. It’s more the fact that he blew off an assignment to come see me. That’s something Paxton’s never done. Work has always come first for him. No matter what, he’s never turned down a job; well, for as long as I known him. My head hits the pillow, but my eyes refuse to close. The wheel’s spinning a million times faster than it ever does. With the water off, the apartment is quiet, and I can hear his footsteps down the hall and how they stop outside my door before going to his. The door clicks shut, finalizing that there won’t be a conversation tonight. Unless I pull a trick out of the old handbook.
I roll over, grab my phone from the nightstand, and power it up for the first time since I shut it off in the elevator. It’s then that I notice the messages from Paxton. I listen to his voicemail and read through his text. I can’t scroll up to where I left the short, clipped response to him canceling this weekend.
Me: Are you okay? I know you’re tired, but something seems off.
I could crawl into bed and lie next to him, but taking the chicken way out of this is better tonight. I don’t trust my mouth, and I’m pretty sure that I’d slip up and say something that I’d regret tomorrow. I’m sobering up, but the way he made my heart restrict tonight from the pain that was washed over his face out of concern for me is causing me to expect the worse. Did he come here to tell me something’s wrong? Was that why he canceled his trip?
Pax: I’m okay, Belle, just tired. Get some sleep, and I’ll make breakfast for us in the morning.
Me: Okay, but you don’t have to; we can go out.
Pax: We’ll eat here. I know you stocked the fridge with all my favorite items.
Me: I might have… Good night, Pax.
I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I turn to my side, grabbing the extra pillow to pull it into my chest. Letting out a sigh, I allow my eyes to close for the night. Tomorrow’s a new day and one that will be filled with stories of Paxton’s travels.
Chapter Four
Paxton
Last night when I entered Belle’s apartment complex, I thought I was seeing things. It wasn’t until I was inside her apartment that I realized it was her in the lobby at that hour. I don’t think I’ve ever known her to stay out that late. Walking over to her, I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming up and down the length of her body. She’d already changed and got redressed when I knocked. Belle didn’t have to confirm this with words. It was the way her shirt was inside out, the fact that her bra had already been removed. Not to mention that her perky nipples poking out from the thin layer of material gave it away. The gray material was so sheer that not only could I see them, but I could see the complete outline of her areolas. It’s not that I’ve never seen her in a bathing suit or anything else revealing; it’s a simple fact that all I want to do is taste them. I want to rip the material from her shaken body and taste them with my mouth. Something that I can’t do—not yet and maybe never. I did the only thing I knew to do. Walk away and take a cold shower. It didn’t help when she texted me before bed wondering if I was okay. What was I supposed to tell her? No, Belle, I’m not. I want to taste you. I want to bury myself within you? Hell no, that wouldn’t have been smart. These feelings are just another reason why I stay away more and more these days. The closer I get to thirty, the more I’m ready to settle down, maybe start a family. Even though for years, I thought all families were broken. With Belle by my side, it would be different. It’d have to be.
I told her last night that I’d make us breakfast, and that’s what I’m doing. Lucky for me, all the supplies are resting on the glass shelf in the fridge. Eggs, ham, cheese, spinach, and one onion. Pulling all the ingredients out, I set them down on the counter before starting the coffee. I’m so focused on what I’m doing; I don’t hear Belle enter the kitchen. It’s when I look up that I notice her leaning on the counter at the other end. The palm of her hand supporting her chin up, while the other drums to a beat of the unknown against the bar.
“Morning,” I say, before turning toward the stove. In return, Belle grumbles a few words that I’m not sure I can even make out. She’s never been a morning person. Not even when we were younger. It was always me getting us to school before the first bell. I’d supply coffee in route, and when we went to college, it was the same way. I’d made sure that Brooke and Miranda provided Belle with her daily amount of caffeine after I left. Each and every month I refilled the account at the school’s campus coffee shop. I made sure there was enough not only for her but for all three of the girls. It was the least I could do for both of them agreeing to not only get up early and get coffee, but to deliver it to her at the dorm before class. Belle required time for the liquid to course its way through her veins. The stuff is like air to the breathing folks in the morning. Belle’s breath comes in a cup—halfway through her eyes sparkle, her skin glows, and she becomes one of us. I cock my head to the right, watching as she pours her drug in a cup. It’s also the same moment I realize she’s standing here in nothing but short shorts and a tight t-shirt. Holding the hot mug in both hands, she leans against the cabinet, one leg down on the tile while the other rests against her thigh making a closed V. My breath hitches for a moment. Before she can catch me staring, I focus back on the omelet that’s about to burn. I flip it over, grab a plate, and wait just a moment before sliding it out of the pan and on to the plate. Before I make mine, I pop the first two slices of toast down in the toaster and go about making my breakfast. The sound of the toast popping up forces Belle to move. She rounds the back of me; never does she touch me, but I can feel how close she is to me. With no words, I watch from the corner of my eye as she takes her toast out, tosses it down to her plate, and places mine in.
“Thanks,” I let escape, not knowing what else to say. I mean it’s the appropriate thing to say when someone does something sweet for you. But this is the same routine that we do when I’m here. I know Belle doesn’t cook breakfast for herself EVER. She’ll grab a granola bar, go to the diner down the street, or forgo the whole idea of food in the morning. There are times while I’m gone that I wonder if Belle’s taking care of herself. Is she sleeping enough, is
she working too late, eating correctly. It’s a weird thing to think about, but I do. Belle’s the type of person who will lose herself in a project and go for hours without moving. She’ll become so fixated on one particular thing that nothing around her matters. It’s true, I’ve witnessed it a few times for myself.
As I prepare my plate, the sound of hers dinging against the counter and the stool scraping against the tile has me placing my omelet on my plate and buttering my toast. Instead of going to sit next to her, I stand on the other side directly across from her. When my eyes glance over at her; I think sitting might be a better idea than being straight in front of her almost see-through shirt. I know she’s not dressing to bring attention to herself for me. This is what Belle wears every morning and will most likely always wear. I’ve seen this pajama set before. It’s just today, I’m noticing her body more than ever before.
Belle leans back, crosses her arms over her chest while finishing her bite. An uneasy feeling sinks in the bottom of my stomach. “Why’d you change your plans? You never do that.”
“Usually, you’re overjoyed when I come home to visit.”
“It’s not that I’m not happy, Pax. You know I’ve missed you; it’s just not like you, and something’s bothering you.”
“I’m tired, Belle. It was a bullshit gig, and with being gone for four months, my boss should’ve known that I needed some downtime.”
“How long do you have?”
“Not sure, I’ve gotta call and check in later today.”
“Oh.”
“It’ll be a week at least, I’m sure,” I say as I watch Belle nod at my words.
“You staying here or do you have plans?”
I can’t help but let a laugh escape at her question before I answer. “What kind of question is that? You know this is where I stay when I come here.”
“True…” She shrugs it off before taking a bite of her toast.
Instead of saying another word, I allow us both to eat in silence. I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s off. Right when I go to ask Belle, there’s a knock on the door.
Belle tosses her napkin down on the countertop, not thinking about what she’s wearing as she takes off for the door. Usually, it’s only Brooke and Miranda who visit, but it is way too early for them to be making an appearance.
“Hi.”
“Hey, I know it’s early and I hope I didn’t wake you, but I was wondering if you had any creamer or milk? I sort of ran out.” The deep, masculine-sounding voice vibrates through the room, making me question who the hell is knocking on Belle’s door before nine in the morning.
“You’re in luck, come on in while I grab it.”
She’s the first one I notice rounding the corner. Next comes a guy I’ve never met. One who looks like he just stepped out of a magazine. Yes, I’m secure enough in my manhood to say the man is good-looking.
“Hey, man, I’m Jace.” He gestures his hand toward me. I hesitate for just a moment before offering mine.
“Paxton,” is all I say before Belle steps in with a more formal introduction.
“Jace just moved in two doors down.” She motions back to me with the hook of a finger. “Paxton just flew in last night. We’ve been best friends since we were ten.”
“Cool, where ya from?” dude from two doors down questions.
“Here, well Belle and I were raised in Bethel, CT. What about you?”
“So you live here, together?”
Before I can respond, Belle lets a low giggle out and answers for me. “Paxton travels for work; most of the year he’s gone, so when he has downtime he crashes here with me.” The sting of her words slams against my chest as if she just threw daggers at it.
“Cool, well thanks for the milk. I’ll catch up with you later, Annabelle. It was good meeting you,” he says before turning toward the door, and I watch as Belle follows him. Quiet words are exchanged that I can’t make out before the door clicks shut. When Belle comes back in, her cheeks are flushed and tinted with a pinch of rose.
“What’s going on with you two?”
“Who, Jace?”
“That would be the person in question, yes.”
“Nothing, he just moved in, and we’ve chatted a few times in passing. Really don’t know him, though.”
Instead of doing the twenty questions about the stranger who inhabits a few doors down, I go about cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. Belle grabs cup two of her liquid patience and plops back down in her stool. Silence has never been our thing. This apartment at this moment doesn’t feel like home. Its irregular rhythm is telling me to step away, go out for some air and a moment to clear the thoughts that are racing through my head. All I can think about is the fact that I’m too late.
Chapter Five
Annabelle
“I’m going to shower, then we can figure out what we want to do today,” I say, breaking the silence that’s surrounding us. Pax nods in return as I wait for more. Walking to my bedroom, I can’t help but think that something’s shifted. Nothing seems familiar this morning. We’re not Belle and Pax. We’re two strangers who just so happen to know pretty much everything about each other. Would today, or even last night, have been different if it wasn’t for the change in his trip? Would we be sitting on the sofa drinking coffee and telling stories of the past four months? Instead of what’s been happening? I’m not buying his excuse for why he changed his plans. It’s not the first time that he’s had to cancel because another job has come up either before his flight to me or while in mid-air. There’s been plenty of times it’s happened in the past. I do believe that he’s tired. It’s written all over his face. The way the dark circles have crept up underneath his eyelids. The way his shoulders slouch forward while in conversation. Not to mention, when I asked about his work this morning, I noticed that spark in his eyes was gone. I take a detour to my room before going straight to the shower. Quietly, I shut the door and grab my phone from the nightstand to send a text to Brooke and Miranda.
Me: I got a pleasant little surprise when I got home last night. Pax is home and is being WEIRD!
Brooke: I thought he canceled? That’s odd.
Miranda: It’s early, can we chat about this in the afternoon?
Me: NO! Something is up with him, he’s being weird as shit.
Brooke: Maybe he woke up and realized what he has, think about that.
Me: Stop!!! You’ve known us for how long, and you know we’re just friends.
Miranda: Since I’m awake now. How long’s he home for?
Me: Not sure, didn’t ask and he didn’t say.
Brooke: I don’t know, feel him out and see if he says anything. He’s been gone, Annabelle, and he’s a man. Do we ever know what’s going on with them?
Miranda: She has a point. Just give him some love and he’ll be fine.
Me: Whatever! Oh, Jace, from down the hall, came over for milk. He is super HOT…
Brooke: Was Paxton up when super hottie came knocking?
Miranda: Where are the pictures of this HOT man?
Me: Not snapping him for you, and yes, we were eating breakfast.
Brooke: There’s your answer, babe. He’s pounding his chest like a caveman, claiming you before HOTTIE pants takes your pants off.
Me: I’m going to shower now… This conversation is OVER.
Brooke: We going to dinner tonight so we can see Paxton?
Me: Sure, text him. I need to wash that nasty club off my skin.
Miranda: Wait… Was he waiting for you when you got home? OMG, he thinks you were on a booty call. Brooke, make the dinner plans! I can’t wait for this.
Instead of responding, I toss my phone down on the bed and head to the shower. It’s official that all of my friends have lost their ever-loving minds this weekend.
Hot water streams down my body as it tries to wash away the soreness of my muscles. I hadn’t realized how out of shape I was until I woke up this morning. Between the walking and dancing we did last night,
I’m safe to not start that spin class for another few months. I can’t help but allow my thoughts to drift to what’s going on with Pax as I lather up my hair. The last time he acted this way, it was a few weeks before he broke the news to me on leaving back in college. And the time before that was when Emily had asked him to prom our senior year in high school. I still laugh at that one. Every time the subject had come up, he’d get this weird look in his eyes, scratch the back of his ear all before changing the subject so fast that I ended up with whiplash. When Pax finally broke the news to me, I shrugged it off as no big deal. Honestly, it wasn’t that huge of an issue. I’d already had three guys ask, but a part of me was waiting for Paxton to ask me instead. The moment I’d found out that he had a date, I picked wisely and settled on number two—Leon. He was the safest. I didn’t have to ask beforehand or lay down any ground rules. He knew the deal before asking. Leon was what you called the band geek, the math whiz, and a genius wrapped in one cute package. I’d known Leon since middle school, and we agreed that this was not a romantic date. He’d pick me up for dinner, and we’d do the prom thing. Afterward, it was up in the air. He left the choice up to me on where we would go. Of course, me being me, I had to find out what Paxton’s plans were. Was he going to a party? Were he and Emily going to a hotel? Was this going to be the night that he threw in the V-card? Oh, did I forget to mention that not only was I still a virgin but so was Paxton? Okay, maybe that should’ve been explained before now, but you’ll figure out everything here in a few.
Even after Paxton told me he was going with Emily to prom, things were off. I could feel him pulling away from me more and more each day. The drives to school every morning were done in silence. The rides home after school became less and less as the days counted down to prom. At first, I thought it had to do with Emily. The fact that he might have actually liked her and wanted to have a relationship. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how hard it was to date and have a best friend of the opposite sex. I’d tried it a few times, and each one always ended in a choice. There was no way I would pick the boyfriend over Paxton. The two of us had gone through too many years. We were a package—take us both or nothing at all. That was the most significant part of my confusion. He knew that I would always choose him over the other person unless I were truly madly in love. I’m talking this person would have to cause my pulse to race so fast that it felt like a hammer beating from my chest. I’d started questioning if Emily was his pulse. Was she the one who caused his chest to restrict.