Chapter 18 #2
Dax laughs again and crosses the room toward her.
"I didn't hear anything," he says. "I don't know what he's talking about.
Saige, you just look so pretty today, let me just…
" He holds her head against his chest, covering her other ear with his hand.
"Shh, that's better. You don't have to worry about anything he says now. "
She shoves him away, but she's laughing now, too. "God, get off me! No, because you said that Dax was your real name and that since your parents are rich, they didn't have to follow name rules."
"Stop." I laugh. Now my fucking side hurts. "You didn't really say that."
Dax shrugs. "I don't really remember how the conversation went."
"Fucking liar. Do you even have a cousin named Meringue?"
"Now that I can confirm—Meringue is real."
"Great. What's his fucking name?"
Dax grimaces, covering his face with one of his hands, but he doesn't try to stop me from telling her.
"It's Dante Alexander…the second."
Saige rolls her eyes and heads for the door. "Okay, great. Well, it's nice to meet you, Dante."
"Nope." Dax closes the door before she can leave the room and then throws her over his shoulder.
"Put me down, Dante!"
"Do not call me that," he says before tossing her onto the bed.
Dax straddles her and sits on her thighs, and I get to watch her reach for me again before she corrects herself and pulls her hand back. "Get him off me!"
"This is very serious, Saige," Dax says. "You can't call me that."
"Why not?"
"Because it's my dad's name, and it makes my dick sad."
I lie back beside her. "Come on, Saige. Don't make his dick sad. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not allowed to call him that, either."
"No one is allowed to call me that because it's not my fucking name. Don't be mad at me, Ripley."
He leans down and presses his lips to hers, and I watch her melt, breathing him in and fisting his shirt in both hands while she kisses him back.
And when he pulls away, she looks at him the same way I look at him.
Like he's her whole goddamn world.
"I'm sorry I lied about my name. And the next time I need you to inspire me, I'll let you lie on the bed."
"Yeah, no thanks," she says.
"This is still a mutually advantageous situation for us, Ripley. I think you know that."
He lost her there, but he doesn't see it. The smile playing on her lips falls, and her eyes drop the minute he says mutually advantageous situation. She folds back into herself before he kisses her quickly again and then climbs off the bed.
"I have to get going," he says. "Elias and I are going from the gym straight to a party, so we won't be back until late. Set the alarm."
Well, at least Elias is going out. That makes me feel a little better.
"A party?" Saige asks.
Again, he misses the undertone, but I don't. Saige is tired of staying home. She's told me twice this week.
"Yeah, it's a bunch of people from high school—figured you wouldn't want to go," he says as he packs his bag.
"Yeah, I don't…" She sighs and climbs off the bed. "I have homework, so…I'll see you later."
"Hey, you're not really mad at me, are you?" he asks.
"Why would I be? This is still a mutually advantageous situation."
Dax laughs as she leaves the room, packing his bag, still oblivious to his mistake. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
I shrug. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I wonder what Ripley's middle name is."
"Rose."
"What?"
"It's Rose. Her middle name is Rose."
"Oh, really? Well, that's cute."
He tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and then rests a hand on my cheek before pressing his lips to mine. "I'll miss you," he says, kissing me again. "I'll see you later, sexy."
"See you later."
I follow him out of the room and then head downstairs while he goes to knock on Elias's door. "Bro, let's go."
A couple of minutes later, the two of them get into Dax's car and leave.
I decide to give Saige a while to calm down before I knock on her door—after all, maybe she does have homework, and she wasted a good portion of the afternoon sitting naked in Dax's room for no reason.
But I can't stop checking the clock. I start getting fidgety again and head toward her bedroom. An hour is long enough, right?
"Saige? Can I come in?"
"Hold on," she says.
I hear her sniffle, shuffling around the room for a minute before she opens the door.
Her eyes are red. I can tell she's tried to clean it up, but her mascara has been running. She was definitely crying. "What's up?"
"Do you want to go out with me?"
"What do you mean?"
I shrug, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "There's a pub on Vine that I like. They'll be showing the Seahawks game—I'm a big fan. If we start walking now, we'll be there before halftime is over."
"Are you sure you want to go with me?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
"And you're not meeting other people there, right? It'll just be us?"
"What makes you think I like meeting groups of people? You must have me confused with someone else."
She nods. "Yeah. I want to go. Give me three minutes."
She meets me in the living room five minutes later, having fixed her mascara and changed her top. She's in the process of pulling on a jacket since it's finally getting colder—thank fuck—when she says, "Okay, let's go."
She exhales what sounds like relief when I pull the door closed behind us, locking it before following her out into the cool, October night.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to get out of that fucking house," she says. Yes, I do. I pay attention. "God, I just…can't fucking breathe in there sometimes. I feel like I'm losing my mind. No offense."
"I'm not offended. You killed someone upstairs, and now it's your hostage bunker; I get it."
"Oh, my god. Don't say that."
"Which part?"
"All of it!"
"We need to cross here," I tell her, taking her hand in mine.
The pub is only three blocks away; when we get there, we're seated at a booth right in front of the television—with a perfect view of the game.
We both order a beer and a burger, and are onto our second drink by the time the food arrives. Saige definitely seems more relaxed than she normally is at the house.
I feel weird about it—like we're keeping her prisoner.
Although the text messages persist almost daily, it's been weeks, and they haven't escalated.
I know I'm not the only one starting to wonder if maybe they aren't related to Miles after all, and it's just someone fucking around with Saige—Dax brought it up the other day, too.
It could even be random and have nothing to do with her, either.
Maybe we should let her out of her cage more often. But maybe she wouldn't come back, and then what?
"You look deep in thought," Saige says. "Any chance in hell you'll tell me what that thought…" She trails off, all the color draining from her face, and I follow her eyes to the picture windows in the front of the pub.
I look up just in time to catch a glimpse of a man in all black with a skull printed ski mask over his face before he disappears from view.
"Did you see him, too?" she asks.
"Yes…" But it's not that strange—seeing someone dressed up like that on campus, especially this time of year. What was weird was how he seemed to look directly at Saige.
She is the prettiest girl here, though. I'd look at her, too.
"Have you seen him before?"
She nods. "Once. In the backyard."
"Stay right here."
"No, please don't leave me here by myself."
"I'll be right back…just sit here and don't move."
Clenching my fists, I all but run through the pub and out the front door.
I'm itching to put a fucking stop to this.
Maybe I can't be everything to her, but I can do this.
I know without a shadow of a fucking doubt I can outrun and overpower whoever has been threatening her, and when I get my hands on him, I'm going to beat him to a bloody fucking pulp.
I want to feel what it's like when bone crunches under my fists. I haven't done it in years, and I was much weaker than I am now. I think about it a lot—hurting people. Sometimes, I think it would fix me. But they'd have to deserve it.
It was hard not to do it to Miles's lifeless body, just to see how it would feel. But I didn't want to scare her when I knew she was already afraid of me.
Unfortunately, when I step outside, he's gone. I walk the block; I look inside the other bars and restaurants, and stalk down the alleyway behind the building, but whoever it is, they're either long fucking gone or really fucking good at hiding.
Defeated, I unclench my fists and return to the pub and to a very relieved Saige.
"Jesus…you were gone for so long. I was freaking out."
"I couldn't fucking find him," I tell her. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry," she says.
"No, I just…" I shake my head before running my hands through my hair, looking up at the ceiling when I exhale. The truth is, I'm fucking pissed. "I really wanted to end this for you. I can't do anything else for you."
"That's not true. I mean, I realize that our relationship is transactional, but I think you're my only friend."
"Here's your check," the server says, setting our bill on the table.
"Can you split it?" Saige asks, pulling her card from her wallet.
"I sure can."
I shake my head and hand her my debit card instead. "No. Don't split it. Take this one."
When she leaves with the card, I turn to Saige and say, "I don't think of it that way."
And that's it. That's all my dumbass manages to fucking say. But of course, she thinks it's just transactional. Not only do I give her nothing, Dax said as much just a few hours earlier.
She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm going to use the washroom before we go, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? If only I could have beaten ski mask's face in and brought him back to her as a prize.
The walk home is quiet, but when I ask if she wants to stay up and watch a movie with me, she says yes.
I kind of wonder if she just wants to stay up to see Dax when he gets home, but even so, I'm okay with it.
We pick the newest Paranormal Activity movie, but she passes out about thirty minutes into it.
About fifteen minutes after that, she shifts in her sleep until she's resting her head on my shoulder. I freeze up, resisting the reflex to shrug her off. And then she wraps her arm around my waist and burrows further into my side.
She didn't mean to, I tell myself. This isn't like the other times; she's just sleeping. And she's used to sleeping with Dax. He likes this.
I decide to wait a few minutes before moving her. Saige has actually been really good about my boundaries; she hasn't pushed even once.
Maybe that's why I've gotten so attached to her. I usually don't even make it this far with someone without them slipping their hands under my clothes and saying something like, If you just let me do it, I know I'll make you like it.
Or, even better, If you can stick your dick in me, but you can't even hold me, you must not really like me. I don't even have a rational argument for that one.
But this isn't so bad. It feels like practice in a way.
She's not conscious to judge me, so I'm not worried about her perceiving my discomfort, and that alone helps me relax.
I'm not worried about all the things I'm doing wrong or what's going to happen after I fuck this up.
I can just be. I can focus on my body and talk myself through it, like I am now.
Saige isn't him. Saige smells like vanilla and those little white flowers that grow up the trellises in front of my grandparents' house. She loves the dog sleeping beside her on the couch enough to risk her life for her. She probably loves Dax, too.
Her middle name is Rose, and she used to write poetry and wake up happy, but she hasn't been like that in a long time. She's not him.
I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and pull it down over the two of us.
After a while, I get used to her weight and warmth against me, and it's almost comfortable…like being with Dax. I don't end up moving her—not during the movie and not after, either. She looks too perfect like this. I just stay here, trapped, staring down at her long after the movie ends.
This is much better than watching the fish.
It's after one in the morning when she finally stirs. Her hand moves from my waistline to my stomach and then up my chest before she snaps back into herself and jumps back.
"Oh, shit," she says. "Nolan, I'm so sorry. I didn't—"
I place both hands on her cheeks. "It's okay. It's all right. You don't have to be sorry."
"But I wouldn't—"
This time, I silence her with my lips against hers. She's too stunned for the first few seconds to kiss me back, but then she does.
Her lips are so damn soft and perfect. I think—no, I know—she's even more panicked than I am. It's a welcome change. She lets me lead, lets me trace the space between her lips with my tongue…slowly, before pulling away.
"I know you wouldn't, Saige. Let me tell you something, okay?"
She nods. "Okay..."
"I won't leave. I don't view our relationship as transactional. I like you, Saige; I really fucking like you, I just don't know how to show you that. I don't have money, and I can't hold you like Dax does. I'm not good with words, and I'm emotionally illiterate."
"I don't think that's true…"
"I'm not done yet. I'm going to disappoint you—I know I do it already—but I won't leave."
She stares at me for a minute, confusion in her sad brown eyes while she searches my own. "You like me?"
"Have you been paying attention? Yes, I like you. I think you're fucking perfect."
"I'm pretty messed up."
"You're messed up? Look who you're talking to."
She laughs. "We're pretty messed up, huh? But…you helped me drag a body through the woods when it was too heavy and no one else would, so…yeah, I like you, too."
I brush her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "That's modern-day chivalry, sweetheart. Do you want to go to bed? You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on top of the blankets, like we did the other night."
"Yeah, okay."
I kiss her again quickly, and then take her hand and pull her up from the couch.
All I can think as we climb the staircase together is that I'm so fucking glad this girl broke into my house and pushed that guy off the damn balcony.