Chapter 6 Do I Have Your Attention Now? #2
"No, I'm not. My parents are insanely wealthy, Ripley. Name rules don't apply to us. My sisters and I are lucky we didn't end up named after random fruits and vegetables. Actually, I have a cousin in France named Meringue."
"I can't tell if you're joking or not."
"If I were joking, you would know. I'm very funny. She didn't think so, though; I wasn't very nice to her growing up."
"Wow…shocking."
"Why are you afraid of Nolan?"
"I'm not afraid of him—I just find him incredibly creepy. He looks like a vampire. He kind of acts like one, too."
"He doesn't get a lot of sun. So what?"
"Plus, you are the company you keep, and…" I gesture toward Dax with my left hand while taking a bite of my fries with my right.
I didn't realize how starved I was.
"Whatever."
"I have this friend…" I pause, drinking my soda. "And he told me that his cousin saw Nolan eat a bird's head."
He laughs before choking on his burger. "I'm sorry—what?"
"That's what I heard."
"What exactly did he say happened?"
"He just said Nolan grabbed a bird with his bare hands and bit its head off. Blood, feathers—the whole thing."
"What kind of bird?"
"I didn't ask. What difference does that make? Is it true or not?"
"He never mentioned it."
"But you're not one hundred percent sure it isn't real? That's pretty telling."
"I'm ninety-nine percent sure he'd mention if he ate a bird's head in front of some kid, yeah."
"Because he's your boyfriend?"
Dax narrows his eyes. "You're nosey. Maybe I shouldn't have played this game with you."
"Well, is he?"
"We're not just friends. I don't really see the point of just friends, do you?"
"I mean, yeah…I don't really have any, but yes, I see the point of friends."
"If you like somebody so much, why wouldn't you also get them off?"
His logic is ridiculous, but it doesn't surprise me. "So then, you're saying you get all your friends off?"
"Not Elias. That's what you're asking, right?"
"Then you do see the point of friends."
"I guess sexual orientation limits my philosophy," he says. "I want to be your friend, too, Saige."
"Why does Nolan wear pants and hoodies all summer?" I ask, ignoring him.
"None of your business. That's not about me, so I don't have to answer. Don't ask him, either, though. Also, don't ever ask him something stupid like, Aren't you hot in that?" he says in a mocking tone. "He hates that shit. And he might eat your head."
"Well, isn't he fucking hot wearing that shit all summer?"
"Ridiculous question. Of course he is; it's a million fucking degrees. He's not some kind of superhero. But that's his choice—I don't ask you if the breeze feels good on your ass cheeks in those shorts, do I? No, because I respect your fashion choices."
I shake my head, remembering what Elias had said when I was digging around under that chair for my phone earlier. "I'm never wearing these shorts again."
"Why does Elias hate you so much?"
I scoff. "Don't you already know why? He hates me because he thinks me and my mom ruined his life. He even blames me for the car accident he had months before I met him."
"No, that's not it. There's more to it than that."
I shake my head, looking somewhere over his shoulder. "There's not. He's not a rational person."
"You're lying; I know him. I've known him since he was twelve years old."
"Then ask him."
"I'm asking you. What'd you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything, and I'm not going to tell you. It's not about me—it's about him, so I don't have to, right?"
"Fine."
"I've got that check for you when you're ready," the server says.
Before she can set it down, Dax pulls a $100 bill from his wallet and hands it to her. "Keep the change."
"Thank you." She smiles and squeezes his arm before leaving the table. She's been flirting with him the whole time, and I know I'm not with him and don't want to be, but she doesn't know that.
Dax picks up the receipt, and I can see it etched into the paper—her phone number. He folds it and stuffs it into his wallet.
I shake my head. "Everything about you is annoying."
"Thank you," he says. "Your car is done. You ready to go?"
"Yeah. I still need to get to the bookstore before it closes."
I grab one more fry and then leave the booth after Dax, who waits for me to catch up and then slips an arm around my waist.
People stare. And I know they're staring at him, but still, I can't help but think everyone who looks at us knows what we did. I shrug him off, and he grabs my hand instead, lacing his fingers with mine.
"Do you want some coffee or something?" he asks as we step outside.
"No."
"Do you want a Xanax?"
"Do you have some?"
He shrugs. "Maybe. Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not okay. How could I be okay? How are you okay? Don't you care at all?"
"About him? Nah, not really. He wasn't a good person. You need to forget about it, Saige. It's just…something that happened. And now it's over. Tomorrow, something else will happen."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm scared! And I keep thinking about him. I know you said he was bad, but…I don't think he deserved it. And he had to have people who cared about him. Maybe that's who did this—maybe they'll do it to me, too."
"Nothing is going to happen to you. I'm sure this was all just some kind of fucked up coincidence, okay? And I took care of it for you. It's over."
"Yeah…" I say, but it's pretty hard to swallow. "Yeah, maybe."
"There's our car," he says, pointing to a black SUV at the end of the block. Dax opens the back door, and I climb in first, turning toward the window, watching the water out the window as we pass.
"I want to go home." I don't realize I've said it aloud until he replies.
"We'll be home soon."
"No, I mean…I want to go back to Aurora Cove, and I fucking hate it there. I can't do this. I can't be here."
"You can't leave, Saige. He wouldn't let you."
Hopelessness overwhelms me because I know he's right. Then, I get an idea.
"I can if I flunk out. They'll kick me out, and then I'll have to leave. He won't be able to stop me." It's not a bad plan, but I shouldn't have told him that. "Dax, please don't tell him."
"Saige…" He shakes his head. "You can't do that. I will tell him."
I sigh, crossing my arms in front of my chest and sinking into the bench seat.