“You’re pretty close to Elliot aren’t you?” Naomi asks me one night as we both sit in our room preparing for bed. It's been a long time since I shared a room with someone, and this experience with Naomi has been very different. There's no competition between us—even though she has an obvious crush on Elliot—and there’s never any arguing over space. It’s just easy. It’s how I imagine sisterhood should be like.
“Um, not really.” I look at her via the mirror on my wardrobe as I rub leave-in conditioner into the ends of my hair. “I mean, we’re friends, but I wouldn’t call us close…Why?”
“No reason. You just seem to be together a lot. You make eyes at each other across the room. We’re all wondering what’s going on, that’s all.”
“Eyes at each other.” I scoff. “There’s nothing going on, Nomes. He goes home in two months. We’re friends,” I say, wiping my hands clean on a moist towelette before depositing it in the small bin by our door.
“What if he wasn’t going home?”
I shrug. “I’d still be his friend. Me and guys—relationships—we don’t mix well. I have massive trust issues. And Elliot, no matter how long he stays here, doesn’t need my baggage.” Not to mention the fact that if he found out what my baggage was, he’d run a mile.
“Jesus, Paige. What happened to you?”
“Nothing serious,” I lie, avoiding eye contact. I can feel her still watching me, but I continue to focus on myself, relieved when I hear her sigh then get into bed and open her book.
I’m going to go right ahead and admit that I’m attracted to him. Elliot Roberts is by far the most beautiful man I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. There, I said it. I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He turns the head of every female, every single time we go somewhere. But he seems oblivious to all of it, taking it all in his stride. Most guys in his situation would be cocky and sleazy. But he's down to earth, friendly, kind. He's the perfect blend of personality and looks. It amazes me that he even spends time with me. I’m so not his type. His type would be supermodel stunning. He belongs with someone tall and leggy who turns heads as much as he does. He’s wasting his time on me.
Rising from the end of the bed, I move over to the light switch. As I do, Naomi reaches out and switches the lamp on so she can continue to read while I go to sleep.
“Why don’t you ask Elliot out?” I ask, as I slide beneath my covers.
She rests her book open on her chest and smiles as she looks at me. “I did,” she admits. “Threw myself at his feet when he first got here. But then he saw you and he hasn’t looked at me since.”
A pang hits me in the chest. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I never wanted to steal his attention.”
“Oh, I’m not mad. You can't steal a man. They have to be willing. And he wasn’t even mine. We were flirting, and I wanted to fuck him. We didn’t have that energy you guys have.”
“Energy?” Can other people see it?
“Yeah,” she says. “Like a magnetic attraction. Take this couple in my book for instance; they absolutely hate each other. Sworn enemies within the office. But when they’re alone, there’s this attraction between them that’s palpable in the air, and really difficult to resist. They fight it but eventually they’re going to have to give in. Just like you and Elliot will. It’s inevitable.”
“That’s fiction,“ I say, pointing at her book.
“They only write this stuff because it actually happens. And that’s why we read it, to remind ourselves there’s more out there. You don’t have to settle for mediocre when there’s someone out there who’s going to the make your heart jump out of your chest and your whole body sing just to be near them.”
I frown, remembering a time when I had exactly that. It was so fleeting that it hurts to think about it. And the cascade of shit that followed means I don’t associate that feeling with passion or need. I associate it with destruction. “That kind of feeling doesn’t last, Nomes. You give in, and then it’s gone. It’s not real. It’s only hormones.”
She takes a deep breath and picks her book up again. “I don’t want to believe that. Because otherwise, what’s the point of it all? Why have this insane connection with someone if it can't turn into something beautiful?”
As I look into her big brown eyes, full of hope and yearning, I feel this great need to protect her. I want to tell her that the only beauty in this world is in art and that most art is created out of pain. Love and life is pain. But at the same time, I don’t want to be the one to squash her heart and tell her fairytales don’t exist. So I don’t.
“Goodnight, Naomi,” I say, as I roll over to face the wall. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” she says, not knowing that’s impossible. I don’t dream any more. I only have nightmares. No, Not nightmares. Memories. I relive every shitty moment. I don’t sleep much.
Ten
Elliot
Walking faster than normal, I try to propel myself home at warp speed. I had a late client, so I didn’t meet up with Paige and walk home with her like I usually do, and I hate that I haven’t seen her yet. Her face is my addiction.
Once back at the flat, I dump my gear in my room then head out to the living area. Paige and Naomi’s names are missing from the whiteboard we write on to say who will be home for dinner.
“Where are the girls?” I ask Gavin and Brian, who are sitting in front of the television watching the cricket, beer in hand, a bag of chips on the couch between them. They let out a loud cheer as the batter gets caught out before they even answer me.
“Nomes dragged Paige out with her for a girly night,” Gavin informs me without taking his eyes off the screen.
Brian laughs and throws a handful of chips into his mouth, crunching down loudly. “Yeah, she didn’t look too happy about it,” he says. “Fuck, that Paige chick is hot though. You should have seen her in that dress.” He nods his head appreciatively and blows out his breath.
Gavin’s head joins in. “Are you two banging? ‘Cause if you’re not…” He leaves the end of the sentence hanging as he finally looks away from the TV to gauge my reaction.
“Don’t talk about her like that.” It’s an instruction and a warning.
Gavin raises his hands, signalling ‘no offence’. “It’s all right, mate. We’re just talking. Everyone can see you’ve got a thing for her. No one’s cuttin’ your grass.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want you talking about her at all.”
They both nod their understanding.
“Why don’t you get a beer, mate?” Brian suggests. “Come join us.”
“Sure,” I say, moving into the kitchen. “You guys want one too?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Shane laughs, and I can’t help but crack a smile. I know they were just being regular guys before. Paige is a beautiful woman, and I don’t blame them for appreciating what they see. But when she goes to great lengths to separate herself from any type of male advances, I have to think she’s got a damn good reason for it. I feel the need to shield her. Even when she’s not here.
Handing them their drinks when I return to the living room, I take a seat on the other couch, staring at the game on the TV, not really watching. I’m busy thinking about where Paige is. I wish she’d texted me to say she was going out. Fuck, who the hell do I think I am? It’s not like I own her or she owes me anything.
I kick myself for thinking like a douche. Paige doesn’t want me either. She says she doesn’t want anyone. But, fuck, I want her so bad it’s like a burning in my blood. And I feel sure she feels the same, that she’s just holding back because… fuck. I have no idea why she’s holding back. All I can do is guess it’s got something to do with her past, with the reason behind why she doesn’t like talking about herself, why she’s keeping all of us at an arm’s length.
If I have to go back to Sydney without having a single moment with Paige, I think it will be the biggest regret of my life. I need to find a way to get throug
h to her. I don’t have time to play nice.
Paige
Naomi has dragged me to this salsa club she’s heard about and has been dying to try out. We've both put on our most flowing dresses, and I helped her curl her hair and pin it back to suit her outfit. I even went a little wild and put some red lipstick on myself—it was under slight duress. Naomi insisted I needed red lips to go with my black knee-length dress. Other than that, I just have mascara on.
Sitting at the bar, I watch Naomi strut her stuff on the dance floor with a guy who certainly knows his moves. He’s spinning and swinging her around the floor effortlessly, and I have to resist the urge to clap whenever they finish a song.
“Come and dance with me,” she asks breathlessly when she walks back towards me.
“Oh, I don’t know. I'm really not that coordinated.” I laugh. I haven’t danced in so long. I’m not sure I trust myself to keep the beat.
“Nonsense. Come with me and I’ll show you.” She grabs my hand and pulls me off the stool and shows me how to move my feet and swing my hips. I don’t do too badly, but I feel awkward next to the smooth moving Naomi, who went to a performing arts school and learned dance and music there.
The guy Naomi was dancing with, moves back over to cut into our lesson, and I happily step away, bumping straight into another guy who, when I turn around and see him, is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome.
A grin takes over his face as his eyes drag over my body. “Can I interest you in a dance,” he rumbles in a deep baritone.
The skin on my back tightens, pulling at my ribs as the little hairs on the back of my neck lift. I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m not much of a dancer.” I don’t want you to touch me.
“Not from what I saw,” he responds holding out his hand for me to take. I look at it and step away from him, refusing his offer.
“I said no.” I practically yell it at him.
“Jesus. I was just being friendly.”
“Well, I don’t want to be your friend.”
The guy looks at me like I’m possibly insane then shakes his head before he moves on to some other pretty girl, who’s smiling and practically swooning the moment he holds his hand out to her. I go back to my still vacant bar stool, watching them move together. Now I wish I hadn’t agreed to this. I’m still not capable of dealing with advances without reacting badly. This is why I prefer to stay home.
Playing with my phone in my hand, I finger the touch screen. I can handle Elliot. But that’s because he isn’t always trying to get in my pants. He seems happy being my friend, and he doesn’t touch me unnecessarily. I really appreciate that. I wonder what he's doing right now? I feel lonely without him all of a sudden.
What u up to? I tap out and send before I have a chance to change my mind.
He responds quickly, like he had his phone in his hand and was waiting on me. Watching cricket with the guys. U?
I glance up as Naomi twirls with her hands above her head. Watching Naomi dance.
Y aren’t u dancing?
Pressing my lips together, I glance at Tall, Dark and Handsome. I don’t like strangers touching me, I send. Elliot is probably the one person I trust enough to say that to. I don’t know what it is about him, but he puts me at ease.
Want me to come get u?
Yes. Yes a thousand and one times. My reaction is instant, but my thumbs hover unmoving. I can’t exactly bail on Naomi.
“How’s Elliot?” I jolt my head up and cradle my phone guiltily in my lap. Naomi is standing in front of me, holding a bottle of beer and smiling. When the hell did she get there?
“How would I know?” I reply, feeling strange that she immediately jumped to that conclusion.
She tilts her head and looks at me like she can’t believe I think she’s that stupid. “Because you’ve been staring at your phone with a love struck smile on your face.”
I frown a little. “I wasn’t...”
She laughs. “You were. I don’t understand why you keep denying it. What’s holding you back? He’s only here for eight more weeks. Why aren’t you making wild monkey love with him every chance you get?”
“Because…” I can’t get the words out. “I-I just can’t.”
“Just can’t. What kind of a reason is that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I think he’s too good for me; maybe I don’t want to get my heart broken when he leaves; maybe I don’t want to ruin our friendship. There’s literally dozens of reasons why it’s a bad idea.”
“Reasons. Excuses. Why can’t you have an amazing couple of months together? Whether you keep him as a friend or if you take him as a lover, it’s going to end and you’re going to get hurt, and you’re going to miss him. No matter what you do here, you’ll lose him in eight weeks. Why not have the best eight weeks you can have? Even if that’s all it is? It’s better than doing nothing, watching him leave, and regretting it for the rest of your life.”
“But if he knew me, I mean really knew me. He wouldn’t want me. It’s the unattainable thing that’s making me attractive right now. He'll find someone else to turn his head eventually, and this will all be a moot point.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Naomi snatches my phone
“Hey! What are you doing?” I grab for my phone but she steps away, keeping it out of my reach as she types out a message.
“You’re welcome,” she says, handing me my phone before she smiles and heads back over to her dance partner. My phone beeps in my hand, and I look at the message on the screen.
I’ll b there in 10
“Fuck, Naomi.” Feeling nervous, I get up and head to the ladies' room to check my reflection, frowning when I see the painted lady looking back at me. This isn’t you anymore. Turning on the tap, I grab some paper towel out of the dispenser and wipe the lipstick off my face.
Looking at myself again, I take a deep breath. “Nothing changes,” I coach myself.
Elliot
I borrow Shane’s car and drive to the club to pick up Paige. She's waiting outside with Naomi, who’s leaning up against some guy. When they see me pull up, Naomi waves at me then nudges Paige towards the passenger-side door.
“Have fun!” she sing songs as Paige climbs in.
“Has Naomi hooked up?” I ask, once the doors shut. Naomi walks back inside the club entwined with that guy.
“Sure has. Thanks for coming to get me,” she says pulling on her seat belt.
“You rescued me, actually. I hate cricket,” I admit.
“Isn’t it blasphemy to say that?”
“It is. Don’t tell anyone.” I wink as I pull into the traffic and make my way through the streets.
“You want a coffee?” I ask when I spot an open café.
Paige looks to where I’m indicating. “Yeah, I do actually.”
We keep our eye out for a parking spot, finding one quickly and walking back to the café. It’s surprisingly busy, and we have to line up behind another four people to order.
“Don’t take this the wrong way; you look really beautiful tonight,” I say, nudging her lightly in the arm with my elbow.
She laughs, and I prepare for the coming lecture. I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t help myself. The woman is gorgeous, she should be told.
“Thank you, Elliot,” is all she says.
“Wait, what? Where’s the browbeating?”
She shrugs and smiles at me as we reach the front of the line. I order for both of us, and we sit at a table near the window while we wait.
“What made you agree to go to a salsa club if you didn’t want to dance?” I ask, watching her play with the packets of sugar on the table. She's reorganising them so they're lined up in their colour groups.
“I don’t know why,” she answers. “I hate clubs. I really do. All that gyrating against strangers.” She makes a face to illustrate her distaste before continuing. “I suppose I thought a salsa club would be different, and it was. It didn’t have the massive crowd, but it
still had the gyrating, and the touching. So I was glad to leave. Thank you again for coming to get me.”
“It was my pleasure,” I say, placing my hand over hers to stop her fiddling with the sugars. “Relax.”
Quickly withdrawing her hand, she places it in her lap, her cheeks flush as she looks around the room nervously.
Feeling an emptiness in my palm where her hand was, I move the sugar to the side and watch her flit, curious as to her behaviour. “Paige, does it also bother you when I touch you?” I ask. I curb my need to touch her as much as possible because I can see she’s uncomfortable with closeness. But sometimes, touching her feels necessary. And we all need physical contact at times. Even if it’s just a comforting hand on our shoulder.
The flush on her face increases as she focuses her attention on me, meeting my eyes. “No,” she breathes, shaking her head lightly. “No, it’s just the opposite. That’s what bothers me most.”
Paige
Did I seriously just say that? Confusion passes over his face, before the realisation of what I admitted dawns on him. I’m so grateful when our coffees are brought over, our attentions diverted as we accept them and thank the server.
Now he’s watching me, his eyes boring through me as I take a shaky sip from my coffee. “Oh, fuck that’s hot!” I exclaim, almost spitting the scalding liquid back into my mug.
A smile plays on the edge of his lips as he watches me fiddle about with a napkin while I wipe my mouth and try to cool my tongue. “You need some water?”
“I’m fine.” I wave it off. “So um… Naomi’s a fantastic dancer. You should see the way she twirls around the dance floor. I’ll have to ask her if she gives lessons when I see her next,” I say, trying to salvage some sort of normal conversation.
Forever: Beautiful Series, book two Page 8
