Chapter Twenty-Five
Sailor
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him so I can’t be sure my memory isn’t playing tricks on me, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t.
Though, it could be the alcohol. I’ve had a lot of it.
More than I said I would. Which wasn’t hard, considering I said I wasn’t having any.
But I lost count of how many cans I’ve gone through.
Five maybe? Maybe that’s not a lot, but I never drink, so it’s a lot for me.
There have been too many nights I’ve dreamt of Jaxon.
Too many days he’s filled my mind. I refused to look through our text thread, but I haven’t deleted it.
I did delete the photos he sent me that I’d saved to my phone, but they’re still hidden in our thread.
They’re there if I wanted to look at them.
I’ve wanted to, but I won’t. I don’t want to torture myself.
But even after not looking at photos of him, and not seeing him for months, I remember exactly what he looks like. I remember all the curves, the smirks, the muscles, the way he smells… but mostly, I remember the tattoos.
Those are what I noticed first, after all. They’re what I saw first, what I memorized when I didn’t know who he was. I recall his tattoos as if they were my own. A little obsessed maybe.
Again, it could be the alcohol or just my head…
but the arms around me on this dance floor look too familiar.
Not just the arms, but the tattoos. The skeleton tattoo along the back of his hand and fingers…
it’s common, but not that common. What are the odds two men with that tattoo would be interested in me?
There’s a long sleeve over the arm around me, but I see the hint of swirls along his wrist. Basic. Simple. Common.
But what are the odds.
Both on the right hand?
My heart beats a little faster, and I lick my suddenly dry lips.
I so badly want to turn around, want to look up into those piercing blue eyes and fall into his arms, but…
that would be stupid. Even my fuzzy brain knows that.
But if I don’t look at him, if I ignore it, if I pretend it isn’t him… then it will be okay.
So I shake out of it, and I start to dance. I swear I feel his body loosen just a little as I do, his hips moving with mine, his hot body pressed against me. I rest my head back against his chest, holding onto his arm and pulling it tighter around me.
Tears sting my eyes, knowing this feeling of protectiveness has a time limit. This won’t last forever. Hell, maybe it isn’t even real because how is he here? How did he find me?
My eyes fall closed, and a smile spreads across my lips as the song changes.
The beat is slower than the previous one, allowing us to sway along.
We move together, rocking from side to side.
His other arm comes up around me, hugging me tightly, and my smile grows as I look down at familiar tattoos.
All of them are familiar, except one. It’s darker than the others, like maybe it’s fresh. New.
But then the tears come, blurring my vision and I can’t be sure of what I saw on his finger.
The emotions are too much to handle, too much to face, so I shove them away.
And just be.
For just a moment, I am safe. I am protected. I am loved.
I refuse to think of anything else. I refuse to allow this to be more.
Maybe I’ll be mad at myself tomorrow, and that’s fine. Right now, I need this.
And if for some crazy reason this isn’t my Jaxon, well, does it matter? What I feel is real. What I feel is something I can hold onto, something I can remember, when I’m paranoid in my own home.
Maybe he is watching me. Maybe he’s never let me out of his sight.
Or maybe I’m crazy.
There’s the faintest sound of someone shouting through the music, but I ignore that too. I’m too comfortable where I am, I don’t want it to end. I want this always. Forever. This feeling… I want to hold onto it and never let it go.
But then the shouting gets louder.
The music cuts off.
People start to scream.
They panic.
The arms around me are gone.
“Sailor! Sailor!”
I blink my eyes open as people shove by me, nearly knocking me to the ground. Everyone is in a frenzy, and I finally realize why.
Someone is shouting that the cops are here, and I see the flashing lights through the window.
“Sailor, we have to go!”
Amelia reaches me, taking my arm and pulling me after her. She goes with the crowd, flooding out of a side door that takes us through the yard and toward the woods. We run as fast as we can, breathing heavily, hundreds of people around us.
“Jaxon,” I whisper, looking over my shoulder as Amelia pulls on my arm, urging me to go faster.
The lights get brighter, the sirens get louder, and the house gets smaller.
Soon enough we’re in the cover of the trees, slowing to a quick walk, but still following others who have pulled out their phones to use as flashlights so they don’t walk into trees.
I keep looking over my shoulder, hoping he’ll be there, following me, but I don’t see him. The ache in my chest is there though, all too familiar.
I thought I was getting over him, but how easily this pain comes back?
Was that even him?
“What are you looking at?” Amelia asks. “Are you okay?”
I blink, bringing my attention forward and following a group of guys, all of which are dressed up like a dead cupid. Their wings are half ripped and covered in fake blood. It’s pretty serious for a Friday night party.
“Did you… see who I was dancing with?” I ask.
“You were dancing with someone?” she asks excitedly.
The hope that she saw him is gone. Now I’ll never know if it was him or someone else. Or in my head altogether.
I hug my arms around myself as best I can with Amelia’s arm still hooked in mine.
It’s only a few more minutes before we come out on the other side, meeting a large crowd of people that are figuring out where to go and how to get home.
We keep walking down the road and eventually come upon a closed coffee shop. We stand with a few other people who could be college students too, while we wait for our Uber. I’m in a fog all the way home, unable to tell whether or not he was real.
Am I losing my mind… or is Jaxon still following me?