A Beautiful Forever

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A Beautiful Forever Page 5

by Lilliana Anderson


  Paige

  “Oh look, lover boy is outside waiting for you,” Andrea teases as she reconciles the receipts from the till and counts up the day’s takings.

  I look up from the pile of stray hairs I'm sweeping up and look outside to spot Elliot, trying not to let my mouth grin as much as it wants to. I have to admit it’s nice that he’s always out there, waiting to have a five-minute conversation with me every day. Andrea enjoys it too; she practically molests him with her eyes every time.

  “If I wasn’t stepping on your toes, I would so be chasing after that boy. He is all kinds of delicious.”

  “I assure you Andrea; my toes will not be squashed. Go for it,” I tell her flatly as I focus on attacking a stubborn piece of hair that won’t move out of the grout in the tiles.

  When I look up, she’s watching me with her eyebrows arched high on her forehead, “That broom and I both know you’re into him Paige, you’re only trying to convince yourself.”

  Choosing to ignore her comment, I finish sweeping and deposit the small pile in the bin before I move over to wash out the basins.

  “You can go home now Paige. He's waited long enough,” Andrea says winking at me as she walks the bundled-up cash to the back room to put into the safe.

  I roll my eyes and laugh at her, “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I call out.

  I hear her make some sort of agreeable noise and collect my bag and coat from the cupboard in the front counter before heading out the door.

  “Hi Elliot,” I say as I exit the salon and walk towards him. A smile creeps over his face as he sees me, and I inwardly shake my head. I don’t believe for a second that he isn’t interested in me.

  “Hi, listen – We are having a get together tomorrow night to farewell Petra, and since you’re the new house mate, everyone wanted me to invite you along.”

  “Oh, ok – where is it?” I say, stopping a good metre away from him.

  “Not sure, it’s dinner at a restaurant, and then they want to go dancing afterwards. You can come with all of us. I’ll walk with you to the flat after work if you like,” he offers.

  “Alright, tell everyone I’ll see them then. Bye Elliot,” I say as I back away from him heading off to station entrance. I look around as I go through the gates, not really meaning to, but I can feel him watching me. A small smile curls up the side of my mouth as I shake my head to myself. I’m going to have to watch out for this one.

  Elliot

  So here I am, in my stalker position again, waiting for Paige so we can go out with everyone for Petra’s farewell. It’s not that I’m glad that Petra is leaving. I'm just happy because it means Paige is coming to stay in the flat. Having her living across the hall from me is going to make it a hell of a lot easier to get to know her than seeing her for five minutes a few times a week is.

  She walks out of the salon a little later than normal, but she’s changed into a long-sleeve wrap around dress and a pair of heels. Her hair is straight and shiny and she only wears a tiny amount of makeup which I really like. I'm not a fan of women with big black lines around their eyes and thick lipstick. It just looks fake to me – like they’re trying too hard or hiding themselves. I like it when they look like they’re supposed to.

  Stopping in front of me, she puts her hands on her hips, “Wow, you look gorgeous,” I say, actually no, I’m an idiot – I just gushed about how gorgeous she is.

  She raises her eyebrows, “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I ask holding my hands up, feigning innocence.

  “Like you want to eat me,” she deadpans.

  “What? You look gorgeous; I paid you a compliment.”

  “Elliot, number one, I have a mirror, when my hair isn’t done, I look like a demented witch. When it is done, I still look like a witch – it’s the eyes. Number two, me moving in isn’t going to change anything here – you’re not going to find yourself in me Elliot Roberts.”

  I start laughing, for some reason that kind of sounded dirty to me. “Number One, you’re gorgeous and you know it, so don’t put yourself down, and number two, I like you Paige Larsen, deal with it.”

  She stands there looking at me, “I’m not starting anything with you.”

  “I can like you and not fuck you Paige – last I checked that was called being friends,” I’m not normally this blunt, but it seems the best way to communicate with her.

  Regarding me thoughtfully for a moment, she nods her head. “As long as we both know where we stand,” she says.

  “You have made yourself loud and clear Paige, and just for the record, just because a guy is being nice to you, doesn’t always mean his trying to get inside your pants.”

  “That’s not my experience,” she says before hooking her bag over her shoulder and walking toward the exit. I follow along, quickly catching up to walk next to her. I make sure to keep my distance, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

  Although, who am I kidding, she has the exact right impression.

  Paige

  Dinner is at some Indian restaurant. The food is superb, and it gives me a good opportunity to get to know some of the other house mates – especially Naomi, who I’m to share a room with.

  I pay as much attention to her as I can, asking lots of questions about her life and complimenting her at every opportunity, I don’t want her to see me as someone who is vying for Elliot’s attention. I want us to get along.

  “So what made you become a hairdresser?” she asks.

  “I just kind of fell into it. Do you know how hard it is to actually create your hair colour?” I ask her, steering the conversation so we’re focusing on her and not me.

  “Really?” she says, “I’ve never done anything with it. I was actually thinking of becoming a red head, you know that nice auburn colour?”

  “Oh no, don’t do that your hair is amazing,” I tell her. She has light, natural blonde hair, a little longer than her shoulders. It’s streaked with different shades of red, brown and caramel. We try to recreate that natural blonde look for women every day, but it never looks as good as the real thing, I explain this to her. I can see her exhibiting a new appreciation of her god given colouring – and I think I’ve just made myself a friend.

  “You do that a lot, don’t you?” Elliot asks quietly at my side.

  “Do what?” I question him, not understanding what he means.

  “Deflect.”

  Shifting uncomfortably, I meet his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He leans forward on the table and speaks in a low voice that only I can hear, “Sure you do – someone asks you a question, and you give them a cryptic answer that leads to a question about them. You missed your calling as politician or a journalist maybe. It’s an impressive skill.”

  “Hmmm,” I don’t have anything else to say, so I just smile and wink at him (I have no idea why I winked. It just seemed like the thing to do in that moment) before I turn away and begin a new conversation with Shane and Petra, who are seated on my other side.

  When dinner is over, I try to beg off so I can go back to my hotel but the others won’t hear of it, “You can’t go home now,” Naomi says, “the fun part hasn’t even happened yet! You can stay with us on the couch tonight if you’re worried about going back to your hotel alone. You’re moving in tomorrow afternoon anyway.”

  “Thanks Naomi, but I still have to go back there to pack my things and be out by ten in the morning.”

  “No problem, we’ll get Shane to drive you out there and collect your things – he won’t mind,” she insists.

  “Naomi, it’s…” I watch as she rushes over to Shane and asks if he can help me out in the morning. They both give me a thumbs up and nod their heads, letting me know everything has been sorted.

  Elliot moves in next to me, “Gee, you’d think she’d know you well enough to let you make your own choices, especially after you shared so much about yourself earlier,” he comments, the s
arcasm practically dripping off his words.

  “What, and you know me so much better?” I say in retort.

  He shakes his head, “No, I don’t know anything about you.” He walks backwards, watching me for a few steps, before turning around and catching up to the other guys as we walk towards the night club.

  Petra and Naomi fall in either side of me, “You are going to love this place Paige,” Petra gushes. “There’s always great music and tons of people, we go and get drunk and then dance until we can’t walk anymore.”

  “Sounds great,” I laugh.

  “It’s better than great,” Naomi points out. “We booked a table on the mezzanine level, tonight is going to be epic, and since you don’t have to worry about going back to your hotel, you get to cut loose with us.”

  Sneaking a few glances, I watch Elliot as he interacts with the other guys – I’m not sure if he’s annoyed with me or just teasing. Either way, I feel kind of lonely without him next to me – he’s kind of been growing on me this past week.

  Chapter 8

  Elliot

  It’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday night, and we’re standing around, not quite lined up, outside a nightclub in the midst of a bunch of 18-year-old girls shivering their butts off in tiny skirts and way too much make up. At 27, I’m really starting to feel too old for these places but Petra is only 20, and she loves the club scene, so her farewell – her choice.

  This is supposedly her favourite place. It's called Fabric, and as she tells it, there are three different rooms where DJs play all night – it sounds enormous, and really, really loud.

  The doors open and Petra leads us all straight to the door where we get to jump the cue, she’s booked a table on the mezzanine level for all of us, so we can either sit and drink or get down and dance in the sweaty pit of people expected below. Personally, I’d rather not go down there; this night club is bigger than any I’ve ever been in. My idea of a crowded night club is obviously nothing compared with the reality of a club in a big city with twice the population of Sydney.

  Once upstairs, a waitress comes to our table and takes everyone’s drink orders, returning quickly and handing them around. The mood is high as I watch everyone’s smiling faces while they attempt to interact with each other to the tune of some house music that mutes their voices to everyone but the ear they’re yelling in.

  Paige is keeping her distance from me as she stands at the railing, attempting to talk to Petra while she holds her drink and looks out over the room. She’s bouncing her knee to the beat and attracting the attention of a few of the guys at another table. I can see them ogling her arse while they unashamedly and very obviously talk about her.

  As the night wears on one of the guys goes over to ask her to dance, she’s talking and smiling at him, and it’s really hard for me to watch, even though she’s obviously refusing him. She shakes her head ‘no’ more vigorously when he inclines his head to the dance floor for a second time. When he puts his hand on her arm to try to coax her again, I’ve reached my limit and stand up to walk over there.

  Her brow furrows as she looks from him to the hand he’s using to coax her and pushes him away from her. This guy is such an idiot that he tries to grab her around the waist and dance with her where they stand. My blood starts to pump through my ears as I shake my head at his actions, I don’t care how drunk you are; you don’t touch a girl when she’s saying no to you – this guy just earned a punch to the face, and I don’t give them out very often.

  As I approach, I see Paige push him back, there’s a fire in her eyes as she flicks her glass, splashing the contents all over the guy’s face. I halt my advance as in one swift move, she grabs the guy’s shoulders and jams her knee into his crotch, stepping back and brushing away the back splash of her drink from her dress.

  Paige

  What a jackass! I said I didn’t want to dance, and I meant it. I hate people touching me when I don’t invite them to. As I turn to walk back over to the table, I'm faced with Elliot standing in front of me with his mouth wide open, eyeing the crumpled guy I just kneed in the groin.

  “I think I’d better go,” I say close to his ear, needing to yell over the music.

  His mouth spreads into a smile, “That, was awesome!” he comments, nodding his head appraisingly.

  “Thanks,” I laugh, “but I still think I should go, tell Petra and Naomi good bye for me?” I ask as I go to move past him.

  “Paige, wait – I’ll go with you.”

  “Elliot, I don’t need you to. As you can see I don’t need protecting.”

  “That may be true but I’m not into night clubs anymore. I've had enough of them – Besides, you’re supposed to be staying with us tonight, and I have the keys.”

  “Fine, let’s go,” I agree. We stop off at the table and interrupt Shane and his girlfriend while they make out, to let them know we’re leaving. Who knows if they’ll remember, they seem pretty smashed right now.

  To be on the safe side, Elliot pulls out his phone and texts the others to tell them we’re going - hoping that at least one of them will check their phone before they leave.

  We flag down a cab, not wanting to ride a train again and Elliot gives the driver the address to the flat.

  After a good five minutes worth of driving in silence Elliot starts laughing, “I can’t believe you kneed that guy in the crotch.”

  I chuckle a little as I look out the window and think about the look on his face as he went down, “Well, he shouldn’t have been so grabby with me.”

  “Hey, I don’t blame you. My fist really wanted to have a conversation with his face after watching the way he was treating you,” he says bluntly.

  I look over at him, studying his profile as he stares ahead stoically, “Where you going to rescue me Elliot?” I ask.

  He looks at me and smiles, “I don’t know what I was going to do really, I just didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

  We lock eyes for a moment, quietly regarding each other. I’m not sure how I feel about this man being protective of me. I’ve been on my own and fought for myself for so long now. The thought of someone else willing to do it for me… well…it feels kind of… nice.

  Elliot

  I offer to pay the cab fare but Paige insists on splitting it. Once upstairs in the flat I put the kettle on and make us both a coffee, I’ve had maybe four drinks over the course of the night, so I could do with a little pick me up – even if it is midnight.

  Paige is sitting at the kitchen table, her shoes off by her chair and her feet tucked underneath as she leans her elbows on the table and watches me as I carry our mugs over.

  “Thanks,” she says, blowing on her coffee and taking a tentative sip before sitting back in her chair and looking at me. “Elliot…were you annoyed with me tonight?” she asks, dropping her eyes to focus on the warm mug she’s cradling in her hands.

  I watch her until she lifts her eyes to meet mine before I answer. “I wasn’t annoyed Paige. I was just giving you space, I guess. You seem to want me to back off, so…” I shrug my shoulders and pull my lips up to the side a little before taking a gulp of my coffee, now wishing I had tested it before I took such a big mouthful. It’s really hot on the way down and my eyes water slightly from the burn. Paige notices and stifles a giggle.

  “No Elliot, I don’t want you to back off entirely. I like being around you, I just… I guess I just need you to understand that it can’t go any further than friendship.”

  “Why not?” I find myself saying.

  “Because it can’t,” she says bluntly.

  We sit across the table, our eyes locked as she refuses to elaborate. I’m the first to look away as I run my hands over the top of my head in frustration and look toward the ceiling. Something tells me I’m more likely to find answers up there than I will from Paige.

  “So, do you think you’re going to do any weekend trips at all while you’re here – Europe’s just over the pond, you know?” Paige says when th
e silence stretches out between us, in an attempt to change the subject.

  Dropping my arms to take up my mug again, I stretch my legs in front of me and look at her pointedly. “Paige, do you think we could have a conversation that has a little give and take to it?”

  She shifts in her seat, looking into her mug instead of at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I ask a question – you answer it with actual information. Then you ask a question, and I answer like I normally would because compared to you – I’m a sharer.” I stare at her unblinking, eyebrows raised, watching as she thinks.

  She puts her mug down and sits more upright on her chair as she scratches at something real or imaginary on the table, refusing to meet my eyes again. “Fine, but I don’t have to answer everything or elaborate if I don’t want to.”

  “Deal,” I say mentally preparing my first question. As she adjusts herself in her chair, sitting even straighter than she was before. It’s as if I can actually see her defences go up, her glare has an edge to it, warning me not to push too hard.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Miranda.”

  “A shire girl huh? You don’t sound like one when you speak.”

  “No. I don’t. Where did you grow up?”

  “Bondi. Where did you go to school?”

  “Danebank.”

  “Did you like it there?”

  “It was a school. How about you?”

  “Sydney Grammar. First job?”

  Watching her, she is clearly uncomfortable talking about herself, her arms folded protectively around her waist while she watches me as if she is ready to shut down at any moment. I could just end this now, let her be, but I can’t.

  “Sex toy.”

  I simply sit and stare back at her trying not to react to this one, there’s a challenge in her eyes, and I feel like she’s trying to shock me or test me to see how far she can push before I’ll stop. When I open my mouth, I force my voice to stay even as I speak. “Sex toy?”

 

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