“How could you possibly know that? She only talked to me for a few minutes.”
“I could tell by the way she looked at you.” His voice was so low I could hardly hear it. “She looked at you the way I do. Like she wants to eat you alive.” He slouched back in his seat, a general air of belligerence cocooning him from any more of my questions.
So Saxon looked at me like he wanted to eat me and was fine admitting it? I wanted to feel offended, but I didn’t. If I was totally honest, I felt completely thrilled by his confession. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have Saxon devour me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, I rubbed my thumb over the ring Jake put on my finger the day before yesterday.
Jake, back home, tucked safe in Sussex County. Jake, who was planning his future around me and only me. I felt a hot prickle all over my skin, like I wanted to shake off a weight I wasn’t strong enough to carry. One wrong move, one slip-up on my end, and I could ruin Jake’s world. He had so much riding on me, so much he needed my help to figure out, and here I was, flirting with Saxon Maclean while I wore the ring Jake had given me to remind me how much he loved me.
The ring that said I was his heart. And that I was in charge of guarding it. Oh, Jake, forgive me!
I tried to focus on the book I was supposed to be reading, but Raskolnikov’s story was just giving me ideas. For example, if I had a hatchet, I might have gone after Saxon’s skull with happy determination. I plowed through the dense mazes of guilt-laden sentences and refused to lift my eyes to see what Saxon was doing. I didn’t care if he looked my way. I didn’t care if he got up and left to hunt perky little Sara Olsen down either. I hoped he did, actually. Paris would be better without him. Much less complicated.
But my ranting was just that; ranting. Because I realized that Paris was just going to have to be somewhat about Saxon for me. And whether I wanted to feel badly about that or not, it was the truth. I wanted to talk to him. About Jake. About life. About us. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth.
I wondered what he would say about Jake’s reluctance to go to college or dream bigger. And, at the same time, I wondered what Saxon dreamed about. What did he want, other than life as a demi-god in Sussex County? Had the two of them ever made plans that involved more than a couple of 40s and some hard-partying girls with over-heated sex drives?
They finally called for us to board. Mom and Lylee were bonded at the hip, tittering and giggling like girls. I was glad, because Mom didn’t have many friends, and I felt like it was good for her to have someone to talk to.
“Brenna,” Lylee said. “You don’t mind if I steal your mom for the ride over do you? I definitely need to brush up on my Impressionists before we hit Paris. Plus that, my son is being a bear, and I have a feeling you’ll be a much better animal tamer than I am.”
She smiled so beautifully, I found myself nodding before I knew what I was doing. Mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Lylee swept her away before she had a chance. They were seated just in front of Saxon and me.
It occurred to me that the last place on the earth two people with incredibly intense feelings should be was next to each other on a plane. There was something strangely intimate about the dim, artificially aired cabin. It was like everyone on any plane was part of a big nomad group, traveling together in a precarious metal cylinder and bonded by the innate scariness of the trip.
“So we’re seat mates?” Saxon grumbled as he sat heavily next to me. I could smell his cologne and the pungent smell of cigarettes on his hair and clothes, and deeper than both of those smells, I could smell the scent that was completely and only Saxon. “Think you can keep your hands off of me?” It was no warning; it was a clear challenge.
I stuffed my carryon into the overhead with more aggression than was really necessary. “Why don’t you switch with someone else? There have to be some easy, brain-dead girls on this plane.”
He shrugged. “I like a challenge. Want to meet in the front bathroom after the first lame movie?” He smiled at my growl. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.”
The stewardesses passed out drinks and went over safety procedures. Saxon shut his eyes and leaned back while they went over proper plane exit procedure for a crash in the open ocean. He opened one eye a slit and looked over at me, sitting upright, listening intently to the directions.
“If this plane hits open water, we die on impact or freeze to death in the north Atlantic before anyone realizes we’re missing.” He flicked the glossy laminated tri-fold sheet that showed animated people calmly exiting the crashed plane on a slide into the ocean.
“If you want to nap through the directions, go ahead. What do you care if I pay attention? I didn’t wake you up to listen.” I kept my eyes glued to the brightly-colored animated catastrophe.
“You seem kind of grumpy. Maybe you should take a nap with me. I’ll try to spoon you.” He nudged me with his shoulder.
“Can you let me contemplate my possible icy death in peace?” I begged, and a teeny bit of my naked worry seeped out with the words.
“Are you nervous?” His voice had gone soft. I glanced at him and saw his eyes were warmer. The flecks of gold stood out, the way they did when he was interested.
“No,” I lied. I partially lied. I wasn’t nearly as nervous about the possibility of death in the cold northern waters as I was about spending almost eight hours practically on Saxon’s lap. “I just like to play out all possible outcomes in my head, even the bad ones. That way I won’t be overwhelmed by shock if the plane does go down, and I’ll be able to concentrate on saving myself.”
He looked at me for a long time and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “In a ridiculous way, that makes sense.”
“I know. That’s why I do it.” And I ignored the ludicrous surge of happiness that went through me when I realized that Saxon looked at me with grudging respect. He sat up and watched the rest of the safety presentation.
“Alright.” He turned to me. “I’ve pictured the whole gory scene. If we go down, I’m ready.”
“Me too.” I nodded and exhaled the breath I’d been holding in one long stream. “Good luck. In case it all happens.”
“Good luck to you.” Then he shook his head and laughed to himself.
“What’s so funny?” I should have backed off, should have let him sit and laugh to himself without digging for information that was sure to disappoint me.
“I swear to God, I try to hate you, Brenna. I try to wrap my head around any other girl, and trust me, there’s a lot of willing girls. But there’s something about you that I can’t deny. You drive me nuts, but I love it.” He looked at me, and his eyes were warm and crinkled at the corners from a rare, real smile.
I felt like a hot rash prickled over my skin. “I guess you’re just a glutton for punishment.”
We sat next to each other in uncertain quiet for a few minutes. The pilot came over the intercom to announce that we would be taking off. I’m generally a good flyer. I’ve never minded flying much, unless we were dealing with some serious turbulence. But takeoff was never really easy. It was just a weird feeling, the hurtling through the air that sucked the breath from my lungs like an elevator rising too fast. Anyway, it was never a time I wanted to get into any deep or serious conversations.
It was right at the zenith of our ascent when Saxon turned to me again.
“Bren.” He used my name, which was kind of weird. Usually he kept me at arm’s length and used Blix, an abbreviation for my last name. “We’ve tried hating each other for a few weeks now. I think we really put a good effort into it. And, let’s face it, it’s not working. And I have a feeling you’re not open to experimenting with letting me down your pants.”
“Saxon, can you wait just a second to have this conversation?” I closed my eyes and leaned back, my hands gripped on the armrests until we were righted. I opened my eyes slowly, then turned to look at him. “So you don’t want to hate me, and you don’t want to piss me off by trying to seduce me?”