by A. J. Banner
Pax: You can come out now. It’s almost time to go.
I sit here thinking of something to text back, instead, choosing to ignore it. Deciding to wait for another five minutes before going out, I stand and reassess myself in the mirror. Turning from side to side, I grade myself. I pick apart the way my hips are a little fuller than needed. The way my breasts are full but not over the top, “thank you, push-up bra.” I reach up and twist a strand of loose hair, giving it that extra pop that it needs without having to use the curling iron. Satisfied with my look, I take a deep breath and blow it out as if it were a pep talk to get me through the night. It’ll be comfortable with Brooke and Miranda by my side at dinner. The question is—can we make it to the restaurant and home without it being any weirder than it already has been. With my game face in check, I open the door and hold my head up high as I go in search of Paxton.
Just as I round the corner, I stumble from the sight of him. Paxton’s leaning against the counter. One leg stretched out, head down in his phone, and for once since he’s been here—he looks peaceful. His dark-wash jeans hug his body like they were meant for him. The black-and-white-checkered button-up stretches across his chest showcasing the width of his muscular shoulders. He’s rolled up the sleeves, taking the more casual look. His hair’s ruffled as if he’s been pulling on it in frustration. Paxton still hasn’t shaved, giving him more than just the five-o’clock shadow he showed up with. It’s sexy, and I can’t help but think about how it felt against my skin.
Breaking myself from the daydream, I announce a little louder than intended, “Ready.”
His face rises, meeting mine. “You look gorgeous,” he states before pushing off and heading over to me.
“Thanks,” I say as he puts his hands out to take my jacket. Turning around, I put my arm in and shift to the other as he helps. Before I turn around, Paxton places a gentle kiss on the back of my neck that I feel all the way down to my toes.
“Let’s go,” he states as I feel him break away from me. In a fog, I follow him out the door and to the elevator. Fumbling with the front of my jacket to occupy my mind, I can’t focus on the first kiss or the last one. It wasn’t technically a kiss... It was probably more of a show of affection. You know—you look pretty. Okay, who the hell am I kidding right now… That was a kiss. Not one on the lips, head, or anywhere else. It was placed in the most sensitive spot that I have. A place that will always make me weak in the knees. I’ve never told Pax about that spot, but it makes me wonder if all guys know about the little private areas that we have. Take me for example. I have my neck, one tiny spot on the curve of my back, and a spot on my upper thigh. I know I might be weird, but I have them, and I can’t say that one person has been able to find them all. The few guys that I’ve dated in the past have tried but failed. I can’t help but wonder if this has ever come up in conversation. There have been times when we might have a little too much to drink, and my mouth overflows with information. Just as the doors ding, I’ve figured it out. In a drunken explosion of the mouth, I’ve told Pax where I love to be kissed, and he remembered. Nothing more was meant to be behind it.
Paxton hails us a cab, holding the door open for me to slide across the seat. The drive to the restaurant is silent. Neither of us uttering a single word other than the address to where we’re going. I stare out the window at the lights and passing cars, drumming my fingers against the leather of my bag. When we arrive, Paxton tosses some cash up to the driver and holds his hand out for me. As we walk in, I try to ignore that he’s placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the crowd to the hostess station. As he gives her the number in our party, I quickly notice that Brooke and Miranda have beaten us here and have already secured us a table in the back.
“Sorry, I see our friends,” I explain to the hostess who turns to lead us to our table. Quickly, Brooke and Miranda stand and engulf Pax in tight hugs and the normal how have you been.
“What have you guys been doing?” Brooke questions, causing me to choke on my water.
“You okay?” Pax asks as he pats me on the back. All I can do is nod yes, and slide out of my jacket. The moment I turn to place it on the back of my chair, I swear I hear a low growl from Pax’s throat. Recovering quickly, I explain that I’ve been working and Paxton took a little nap. Of course, I leave out the other stuff as that’s not dinner talk in front of the person who happened to rotate my world today.
“When do you leave again?” Miranda asks, and I’m hoping that Paxton answers because this I’ve been wondering myself.
“Actually, I found out this afternoon that I have to head out in the morning. I was hoping to stay in town for a little while longer, but the job calls.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage to say as the three of them carry on. Our waitress returns with our cheese and guacamole dip.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” she asks, and I jump in.
“I’d like to order a drink. I’d like the golden margarita with an extra shot.”
“Wow, really, Annabelle? I thought you had enough last night,” Brooke questions me, but instead of responding I cut my eyes in her direction giving the pipe-it-down look.
“I’ll take one of those,” Paxton states, and it’s me this time who lets out a growl.
“What the hell, we’ll all take one,” Miranda says as she answers for Brooke, who shrugs her shoulders.
Once our drinks arrive, we all place our orders before the three of them talk about everything that’s been going on in the last few months. Paxton tries to keep in contact with Brooke and Miranda while he’s gone, but there are times where I’m the middleman. Somewhere between the first drink, dinner, and the third drink, Miranda orders a round of shots. Even with all the food, the liquor is starting to take its effect. I know this because the moment Paxton excuses himself from the table, I lean toward to the girls and blurt out, “Paxton kissed me on the lips, and before we left, he kissed my neck.”
Leaning back in my chair, I glance around for him to see if he’s snuck back without me noticing him. “What!” Brooke blurts while Miranda laughs and says, “About flipping time.”
“No, not flipping time, and not what but—yes… what!”
“We told you,” Miranda says with a half-ass smirk.
“Miranda, we aren’t in college anymore or even Kansas with a man behind the curtain. This is real, and I’m flipping the hell out.”
Brooke places her napkin down on the table, picks up her drink and sips it while I stare at her like she’s grown two heads. She’s the sensible one of the two and always gives the best advice.
“Annabelle, I need you to listen to me and listen well. Paxton loves you and you love him, so stop fighting this. You’re both older and it’s time to start thinking about the future.”
“What future? The one where I’ll be sitting at home alone waiting for him to come home? The one where I’ll always question if he’s in another person’s arms when he’s not in mine? I don’t think so. You know I’m not doing a long-distance relationship. Paxton’s a traveler—he can’t stay in one place for longer than a weekend, much less a lifetime.”
“People change, so can he. But you do know he won’t change unless you tell him you feel the same.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’re only lying to yourself,” Brooke says. Before I can rebuttal, I notice Paxton headed our way.
“What did I miss?” he says as he sits down, placing an arm behind me. The tips of his fingers draw small circles against the bare section of my back, sending chills down my spine. I try to focus on what Miranda is explaining, but I’m doing a terrible job at it. The waitress brings us our check which Paxton quickly swipes it up and gives her his card. I turn and glare at him as he always does this. With a wink, he leans in and whispers, “It’s okay to let other people do nice things for you. Remember to let yourself go tonight.”
With a snarl, I respond, “Pretty sure I have, and our ni
ght is coming to an end.”
“It’s only just begun,” he whispers back.
“Where to next?” Miranda asks.
“What about that bar on the corner? We can hang out there for a little while longer, but I can’t stay out late tonight,” Brooke suggests.
“Perfect, let’s go, ladies.”
We all follow Paxton’s lead as we head out of the restaurant. It might not be apparent to anyone else around us, but I’m sure Brooke and Miranda haven’t missed the fact that he’s leading me—and only me—down the crowded sidewalk.
They don’t waste any time ordering up another round of shots as I secure us a high-top table off to the side. The music blares around us as I take my jacket back off as it feels like they’ve turned the heater on. I know it’s only because of the number of bodies that are shoved inside, and the way Paxton keeps looking at me. Twelve shot glasses land before me on the dingy table that’s a little wobbly. Miranda, being the leader of the pack, begins to count. One, two, three, and down the hatch goes the first shot before we toss a lime in our mouths to counteract the burn. A few minutes go by before the second round flies down each of our throats. The last one hits the bottom of my stomach, causing my head to feel fuzzier than it was. I know at this moment that I need a glass of water. Instead of announcing that I’m headed over to the bar, I push off the table and slide through the mass of people. Leaning against the bar, I wave down the bartender who quickly approaches.
“What can I get the pretty lady this evening,” and all I can hear is Paxton’s voice in my head telling me to let loose.
“A water and twelve shots of tequila.”
“Coming right up,” the bartender says before turning away.
A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn around to see who it is.
“Jace, what are you doing here?”
“Hanging with some friends, you?”
“Same. Want to join us?” I ask before thinking.
“Sure. Let me help you with these,” he says, taking the small tray from the bar top. He follows me over to my group, places the tray down, and explains he’ll be right back. It doesn’t take long before he returns with four of his buddies and for Paxton to slide me closer to his side. I blame the tequila for the laugh that escapes me. I turn and look at Paxton. “Are you guarding me?”
“Not at all, just keeping what’s mine close.”
I don’t respond… I laugh at his statement like he just told the best joke in the whole wide world…
It doesn’t take Brooke and Miranda long to make friends with the guys that Jace brought over. It also doesn’t take long for Jace to saddle up next to me.
He’s trying to make small talk, but I can’t focus on the words coming from his mouth. Why, you wonder? Well, it’s because Paxton is so close to me that it’s like he’s inside me. Not to mention, the feel of his hands on my bare skin is driving me insane. Just as they all announce they want to go to another club, I quickly turn to Paxton. “Take me home, I’m tired.”
“Oh, I’m going to take you home, and we’re going to talk about this.”
With my face scrunched up, I can’t fathom what the problem is. I did what Paxton said to do, and for some reason, there’s a slow ache that’s building down under from the way he said he’d take me home.
Chapter Eight
Paxton
Many Years Ago…
Sitting outside in the back of the limo that I rented to pick Emily, my prom date, up in, I hesitate on sliding out. She’s not the one that I wanted to ask, but I chickened out every day when I tried to ask Belle. It should’ve been the most natural thing to do. Not like picking out which pair of socks to wear that day, or what side you want with your meal. She should’ve been my first and only choice. But of course, I went the easy way out and decided to agree to go with Emily—the girl that I despise more than anything in this school.
Ever since I’ve known Emily, she’s been a part of the mean girls’ club. Super popular, man-eating bitch. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh, but it’s pretty much the truth. Apparently, from what I heard in the locker room the other day, she only asked me to see if she could get in my pants and prove that I wasn’t gay. Yes, there’s a long-time rumor that I like the same sex. It’s not right, but I can see why people who don’t know me would think this. The only girl that I’m ever seen with is Annabelle. She’s the only one that I want in my close circle. Not to mention, she’s the one I should be picking up tonight. But she has other plans with Leon. Between the raging hormones, the ache in my chest when I think about love, and me being stupid—I screwed it all up. In the years past, we’ve always attended school functions together. It was our way out. A way to ignore the entire school body and not have to play into the hype of the events. It’s worked up until now. Instead of having a simple dance, tonight’s turned into a tux rental, a limo, a stupid flower for her to wear on her wrist, dinner at a fancy restaurant that I’ll hate, and a choice that will come at the end of the evening. Do I wait for Annabelle to be my first, or seal the deal with Emily?
I’ve made out with a few of the girls that I’ve dated, but none of them have been worthy of me giving myself to entirely. The one thing I’ve always taken away from my parents’ “sex talk” was to make it special. Have your first time be with someone that you trust and love. Oh, and the importance of using protection. That part was a no-brainer for me; it wasn’t up for discussion as I wasn’t ready to be a father. Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever want kids. It’s not fun for them when the marriage ends nasty. Because of this, I’ve never wanted to go all the way. I know, not very manly, but it could be worse if I think about it.
Letting out a sigh, I slide out of the overrated limo and head up to Emily’s door. I don’t even have a chance to knock on the door before her mother answers, ushering me inside. She gushes over me, fixing my tie and staring at me as we wait for Emily to make her grand entrance like she’s going to a ball at Buckingham Palace. Mentally, I check this off as another reason this was a mistake.
As Emily takes each step with care down toward me, I offer a smile that’s not genuine. I don’t know if she can tell or not, but at this point, I’m only here because I agreed to this. Nothing more. Nothing less. We go through the standard sliding the corsage on, pictures and more pictures before we’re ushered out the door. Dinner isn’t as bad as I’d expected and the conversation flows effortlessly. Which surprises me with the fact that Emily doesn’t control everything. She actually asks me about college, what my plans are and, of course, she tries to figure out what the deal is between Belle and me. That one I leave open as it’s still a mystery to me. I’m a few months away from turning eighteen, and there’s no way I know what love is. All I know is that Belle is the only person I think about daily. And since we’re going with different people and I’m a jackass, the last few weeks have been entirely different. She’s avoided me in the mornings, choosing to drive herself. Let’s not even get into the hallway at school—she looks everywhere but at me. I know she told me that she has a date tonight, but a part of me half expects her to not show up. Dances aren’t her thing, and I’m shocked it’s Leon’s thing for that matter. He’s a good guy, but he’s not me.
Emily and I make it to the gym in time for pictures before my world tilts. I know the moment Belle arrives without even seeing her enter. My body instantly feels her arrival. It’s part of our connection. We know when the other is hurting, sad, overly excited, or in the room. Well, it’s that way for me, and I can only expect it’s the same for her. I’ve never asked, and it makes me wonder if she’s ever felt the way I do when around each other. Has she ever had to stop herself from reaching over and kissing my lips? Has she ever wanted to reach out for my hand? Not that we don’t hold hands or cuddle when watching movies. I’m talking about the affectionate way. The way you need to show the other that you just need them to hold you, to take your fears and pain away. To express a moment of weakness in the fact that your heart only beats for the other
? That’s what I’m always curious about.
Our eyes lock as she stands at the entrance with Leon next to her. I allow mine to roam up and down the length of her body. Taking in the way her lavender dress fits snug in the right places. The way her hair sits off to the side, baring the length of her neck for the world to see. I swallow loudly as I watch Leon lean in and ask her a question. She sees me, and before she walks over to the table, Belle offers me a gentle smile. Emily snags on my arm, asking if I want to dance. Agreeing, I place the two of us on the dance floor where I have Belle in my sights. I’m not sure if she notices, but the entire evening I know exactly where and who she’s with. With each laugh that escapes from her lips, I hear it. I might not understand why she’s laughing, but I know she is. Before Emily and I head out to a party that she wants to attend, I find Belle’s table and leave a piece of paper with the start of a game next to her purse. I know she won’t return it, but she’ll see that I was here and thinking about her. All I can think about for the rest of the evening is the fact that she could be making out with Leon. I know she expects me to give into the temptation of Emily, but what she doesn’t know is that I left an hour after arriving at the party. It wasn’t my thing, and when I found Emily locking lips with the quarterback of our football team, that was my cue to get the hell out of there.
Later that night, I reach for my phone several times to text her. Just to check in and make sure she is okay. But I’d heard from a fellow friend that she and Leon were at the bowling alley until twenty minutes before curfew. That’s enough for me to know that she stayed true to her words. She always says she’s waiting for the one to steal her heart before giving up everything.