She draws a tight breath. “Number one, I have a mirror. I know what I look like. When my hair isn’t styled, I look like a demented witch. When it is styled, I still look like a witch—it’s the eyes—but a well put together witch. Number two, me moving in isn’t going to change anything. You’re not going to find yourself in me, Elliot Roberts.”
I inhale the same way she did; through my nose like I’m trying to keep my cool. “Number One, you’re gorgeous and you know it. Don’t put yourself down, and number two, I like you, Paige Larsen. Deal with it.”
With her eyes narrowed, she studies me for a beat. “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, she nods her head. “As long as we’re clear where we stand,” she says.
“You have made yourself loud and clear, Paige Larsen. And for the record, just because a guy is being nice to you, doesn’t mean he’s trying to get inside your pants.”
“That’s not my experience,” she says, before hooking her bag over her shoulder and walking towards the exit.
“Then you’re not meeting the right kind of men,” I say, as I catch 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 housemates—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 see the way she’s looking at Elliot, and I don’t want her to see me as someone who’s vying for his attention. I want us to get along.
“What made you become a hairdresser?” she asks.
“I just kind of fell into it. Do you know how hard it is to create your hair colour?” I ask her, steering the conversation so we’re focusing on her and not me.
“Really?” she asks. “I’ve never done anything with it. I was 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.” The way she smiles at me she’s exhibiting a new appreciation of her god-given colouring. 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. He needs to stop watching me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leans 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 a 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—then I turn away and begin a new conversation with Petra.
“Are you looking forward to going home?”
“Yes, and no. I miss my family. But I’m gonna miss these guys too. They’ve become like family and I’ve had so much fun living here. You’re lucky you never have to leave.”
Thank God I never have to go back.
When dinner is over, I try to beg off so I can go back to my hotel—I still don’t want to go to a nightclub—but the others won’t hear of it. “You can’t go home now,” Naomi says, hooking her arm through mine. “The fun part hasn’t even started yet.”
“Thanks, Naomi. But I still have to go back there to pack my things and be out by ten in the morning.”
“That’s easy. You can stay with us on the couch at the flat tonight, and we’ll get Shane to drive you out there and collect your things in the morning. He won’t mind.”
“Naomi, it’s…” I try to protest, but she doesn’t stay long enough to hear, rushing over to Shane and asking if he can help me out in the morning. They both give me a thumbs up and nod their heads, letting me know they have sorted everything. I love how good they are at listening…
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 information about yourself earlier,” he comments, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words.
“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.
That was really strange. He’s normally so bubbly and polite and suddenly he has an attitude? Under my skin, I quietly fume. This is exactly why I don’t trust men. They act one way with you when they want something, and the moment they realise they aren’t going to get it, they turn mean. Thanks for reaffirming that viewpoint, Elliot.
Petra and Naomi fall in either side of me and I fix my smiling mask. Reinventing myself is a huge emotional effort.
“You’re going to love this place, Paige,” Petra gushes. “There’s always great music and tons of people. We go and get drunk, and then we dance until we can’t walk anymore.”
“Sounds great.” I force out a laugh, trying to sound enthusiastic. I couldn’t think of anything worse.
“We booked a table on the mezzanine level too,” Naomi adds. “Tonight will be epic, and since you don’t have to worry about going back to your hotel, you get to cut loose with us.”
Reaching back, I run my fingers underneath the neck of my dress and along my shoulder. Keep me strong, I whisper in my mind as I shift my focus forward. You’re different now. Stronger.
Eight
Elliot
At twenty-seven, I’m starting to feel too old for the club scene. But Petra is only twenty, and she loves it. So, her farewell, her choice. But when it’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday night, and we’re standing outside a nightclub in the midst of a bunch of eighteen-year-old girls, shivering their butts off in tiny skirts and way too much makeup, I’m feeling my age. Or maybe it’s just jetlag?
This is 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. Hmm, it’s definitely my age.
The doors open and Petra leads us straight to the front of 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. I’m not much of a dancer unless I’m drinking, and I’ve had so much alcohol this week my liver is threatening divorce. I need to go slow for a night.
Once upstairs, a waitress comes to our table and takes everyone’s drink orders, returning quickly and handing them around. I sip slowly as I watch everyone’s smiling faces, entertained by their attempts to interact with each other over house music that mutes their voices to everyone but the ear they’re yelling in.
Paige stands at the railing, talking to Petra while she holds her drink and looks out over the room. She’s bouncing her knee to the beat which sways her arse and attracts the attention of a few of the guys at another table. I can see them ogling her while they unashamedly and very obviously talk about her. And why wouldn’t they? She doesn’t look anything like a witch as she claims. She has this ethereal quality about her that makes her look like a golden goddess.
“Come and dance,” Naomi says
in my ear, leaning on the seat next to me.
I shake my head and show her the beer I’ve barely touched. “Maybe later.”
She gives me a smile, bouncing her shoulder before dragging Petra and Brian with her, leaving Paige at the railing on her own. One of the ogling guys takes that as his cue to try this luck. She smiles at him, and I grit my teeth. Those smiles belong to me. The jealous thought hits me as a growl in my chest, and I have to stop myself from getting up and dragging her away from him. Keep your cool, Elliot. She’s not yours yet.
She shakes her head ‘no’ when he inclines his head to the dance floor. Then he puts his hand on her arm to coax her by force. No, you fucking don’t. That’s where my ability to hang back ends and my protectiveness kicks in. She said no.
As I rise to my feet, Paige’s brow furrows as she looks from him to the hand on her arm and pushes him away from her. I can’t hear her, but her mouth forms, “Fuck off.” And the guy is such an idiot he tries to grab her around the waist and dance with her where they stand. I’m gonna kill him. 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 often.
Just as I’m about to reach out, Paige pushes the guy away. 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 when he doubles over to brush the back splash from her drink off her dress like this is something she handles every day.
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. And he just messed with the wrong girl. Fucker.
Brushing my hands over my dress, I step over the groaning drunkard and come face-to-face with Elliot. He has his mouth wide open, eyeing the crumpled guy I just kneed in the groin.
“I think I’d better leave,” I say close to his ear, needing to yell over the music.
His mouth spreads into a smile. “I think I just fell in love with you,” he says, nodding his head appraisingly.
“Is that all it takes?” I laugh. A real, genuine laugh as I tuck my purse under my arm. “Tell Petra and Naomi goodbye for me?”
“I’ll go with you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need you to. As you can see, I don’t need protecting.”
“I do see that. But you’d be doing me a favour. I’m not into nightclubs, anymore. I've had enough of them. Besides, you’re supposed to be staying with us tonight, and I have the keys.” He pulls them from his pocket and dangles them in front of me.
“Fine, let’s go,” I agree, empathising with his need to get out of this club. I remember a time when the music pumped along with my blood and dancing all night led to fucking until the early morning. But that girl isn’t me anymore, and I have no desire to relive it.
We stop off at the table and interrupt Shane and his girlfriend while they make out, letting 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, hoping that at least one of them will check their phone before they leave.
“I feel so old,” Elliot groans as we exit the club, the blissful dullness of night refreshing against our beat-sore ears.
“What are you? Thirty?” I tease.
He frowns a little. “You think I look thirty?”
I laugh and shake my head. How does he do this? My laughter comes easier when I’m with him. “I think you look twenty-five.”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“October.”
“I’ll be twenty-seven in May.”
“Thirty-seven?” There’s a teasing glint in his eye, although sometimes I look in the mirror and see the life I’ve led in the lines around my eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if he thought I was forty.
“I feel it,” I joke.
“You don’t look it.” He smiles as he gives me a nudge with his elbow before flagging down a cab.
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. Utter disbelief. “Well, he shouldn’t have been so grabby with me.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you. My fist wanted to have a conversation with his face after watching the way he was treating you.”
I look over at him, studying his profile as he stares ahead, his jaw tightening. “Were you going to rescue me, Elliot?”
He looks at me and his eyes soften. “I didn’t like the way he was touching you. You said no.”
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… hard to accept. What’s his game?
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 three drinks over the course of the night, so I could do with a little pick me up, even if it is midnight.
Paige sits at the kitchen table, her shoes off by her chair and her feet tucked underneath. It’s very…domestic, comforting. I like seeing her there. She leans her elbows on the table, her eyes tracking 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. Looking, studying, searching. Like I’m a book and she’s reading the words on my skin. “Were you annoyed with me tonight?” The question feels out of the blue as she drops her eyes to focus on the warm mug she’s cradling in her hands.
“Annoyed? What makes you think that?”
“Just a few comments you made. I thought maybe you were pissed because I only want to be your friend.”
I watch her until she lifts her eyes to meet mine before I answer. “I’m not that guy, Paige. I don’t play nice until I get in a girl’s pants, and I don’t retaliate when she says no.”
“Then why—”
“I was giving you space. You seem to want me to back off, so I backed off. But I wasn’t annoyed. I’m just letting you know that I see you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way you keep everyone at a distance. These people you’re moving in with are good people. They’re trying to get to know you, and you haven’t really given them a single thing. I’ve known you the longest, and I don’t know anything real either.” I hold up my hand and count on my fingers. “You’re from somewhere around Sydney, you’re a hairdresser, and you lost your family. That’s everything I know. But what I see is a beautiful woman trapped in her own pain. I don’t know what it is, but I’m guessing it’s got to do with whatever happened to your family, and you’re torturing yourself over it.” I sit back and lift my coffee part way to my mouth. “Am I close?”
A burst of air escapes her nose, as she continues her study of me. “Looks like you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not even close.” I shrug and pull my lips up to the side before taking a gulp of my coffee, now wishing I’d tested it before I took such a big mouthful. It’s really hot. I can’t hide my cough as my eyes water slightly from the burn.
Paige notices and stifles a giggle before she lets out a sigh. “I suppose what I really need from you is to understand that this can’t go any further than friendship. I need to be alone.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what I want. I’m saying no. And I need you to respect that,” she says bluntly.
I hold my breath while I nod, our eyes locked as she refuses to elaborate any further. What has happened to make her want that? I’m more curious tha
n ever. But I have to respect what she wants. Even though it’s the complete opposite of what I want.
“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 in an attempt to change the subject.
Picking up my mug again, I stretch my legs in front of me and look at her pointedly. “Listen, I can handle being your friend. But if we’re going to call ourselves that, I’d like to have a conversation with 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, and 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 fully 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. Her glare even 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?”
“Port Hacking.”
“Did you like it there?”
“It was a school. How about you?”
“Sydney Grammar. First job?”
Watching her, she’s clearly uncomfortable talking about herself, her arms folded protectively around her waist while she watches me as if she’s ready to shut down at any moment. Come on, Paige. Let me know you.
Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet Page 49
