“Yeah.” He smiled a little. “Look, I wasn’t excited to come to Paris until I found out you were going. Then, I have to admit, the whole thing seemed a lot cooler. So let’s call an International Truce, okay?”
“So we’ll be friends overseas?” I said, loving that we would have our own strange agreement, just between the two of us.
“That’s it. We’ll be friends, but I won’t put the moves on you. Unless you want me to.” He smiled that wide, wolfy smile that set my heart thumping.
“No, I don’t want you to,” I said too adamantly. I didn’t want to think about that one too much.
“Deal, then.” He stuck his big, warm hand out.
We shook, and if he held my hand a little too long, it wasn’t by much. By now the flight was going smoothly, and Saxon seemed much more relaxed. But, somehow, Saxon relaxed felt more dangerous than angry, on-edge Saxon.
“So what’s this whole friendship plan have in store for me?” I asked, my suspicions still pretty intense.
“You don’t trust me,” Saxon announced, his black eyes glinting. “I’m not going to say that I don’t want you, Brenna.” When my name slipped from his lips, it made me shiver. “I do. But if the only way I can have you is by playing the good boy, then I’ll be the best.”
“I think that’s easier said than done for you.” I could feel the excitement of a challenge radiating off of him.
“I think it’s going to be harder for you than you think.” He leaned towards my face, and our lips would have touched if we leaned in one more inch.
“Harder for me to what?” My voice sounded like it strangled to get out of my throat.
“To keep your hands off of me.” His voice was like a hypnotic purr.
I rolled my eyes at him and backed away from the heat of his skin. “I have nothing to worry about. You’re so busy being in love with yourself, I don’t know if you could make room for anyone else in that cold little heart.”
“I’d make room for you.” He ran one finger down my arm, and I jumped at his touch. “Now I’m going to close my eyes and dream all the bad boy things I want to do to you but can‘t. Yet.”
If it was possible for my skin to catch on fire, it would have at that moment. He looked me up and down, slowly, then shut his eyes, a smug smile on his way-too-attractive face. There was nothing I could say to him. My loss for words was aggravating on so many levels.
I put my earbuds in, pointedly ignoring the fact that his muscled forearm was lying on the armrest and his hand was draped over it, his fingers inches from me. Even in sleep, I realized Saxon would never touch me. It was all another game.
I sighed a little. It was already exhausting me to think through his next few moves. But, even as that thought went through my head, my heart thrilled to accept his challenge. I wanted him close, maybe because he was dangerous to me, but maybe for other reasons I wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He definitely ignited something in me. The furious anger we had been lashing at each other was like a summer storm, hugely powerful and almost frightening, but always followed by a refreshing break in the tension. I liked the idea of us as friends. Hating him involved too extreme a feeling. It was too close to the only other thing that I felt so absolutely, which was love. Love for Jake.
I stared out the tiny window at the blankets of clouds and thought about the fact that Jake had never been on an airplane before. If we wound up traveling to Italy together, I would be with him on his first plane ride. It made me feel good that there were things I would introduce him to. Jake had a pretty wild past with girls, and he had made a name for himself as something of a ladies’ man before we met. Since I had almost no experience, I always felt like the younger, more immature person in our relationship. Even though I had a lot of experience in aspects that Jake knew nothing at all about.
The last conversation he and I had replayed in my head. I thought about how easily he brushed off the idea of his future being exciting or amazing. Jake was satisfied with things the way they were. Or maybe he was just enjoying what he had? Jake tended to be tight-lipped about what he’d gone through, what he knew about the world in general. I felt like I was always trying to share, trying to make him see things my way, and he was trying to protect me from all the big, bad evils he’d already encountered and dealt with. And, a lot of the time, it was just the two of us butting heads over and over again.
I was thinking about Jake and all of our crazy issues when my head fell back on the seat, and, as uncomfortable as it was, it was a relief to rest more. The next thing I knew, Saxon was shaking my shoulder to wake me up.
“Food.” He pressed me back and lowered the tray on the seat in front of me, his arm warm and solid next to my body.
There were the trays of too tiny foods, all individually wrapped and sealed. I had something like a grilled chicken and vegetables. Saxon got up and flirted with the stewardess for a minute, then came back with a bottled water for me.
“Can’t have you thirsty.” He eyed my almost empty bottle.
“Thanks.” I uncapped the bottle and took a long sip. “I could have gotten it myself.”
“But that’s what friends are for.” Saxon’s sugary sweet voice was offset by his wicked eyes.
“Thanks,” I repeated.
“This little tray doesn’t look like enough for you, Blix.” He poked the edge of my tray.
I felt a little catch of relief that he was using his nickname for me again. It was less intimate, which made it less startling, which made it easier for me to keep up with him and not get lost in his game. “It’s alright. Mom packed me snacks, and I ate a big breakfast.”
“Oatmeal?” he checked.
“Yep. Did you get your Cocoa Puffs in?”
“Nah. I haven’t done anything healthy like eat breakfast in months. I had a cigarette and some TicTacs.” He slid a hand into his pocket and shook the little container of orange candies.
“Technically, the TicTacs are food, so you did have some breakfast.” I hoped I sounded more heartless than I felt. I wasn’t about to get caught being worried about Saxon’s eating habits, even if my natural inclination was to be worried about him. He was healthy as a horse and more than capable of taking care of himself.
“That’s my hard-hearted girl.” He tore into his roll. It must have been as stale as mine.
“You decide what you eat,” I said calmly. “If you don’t want to take care of yourself, that’s fine, but don’t expect my pity over it.”
“That’s pretty harsh, pal.” His voice was suddenly tight. “I wasn’t asking for your pity, anyway. I just answered your question. The one that you asked.”
He had a point. “Call it tough love. And from here on out, I’ll make sure I take less interest in you. Shouldn’t be too hard, since that’s kind of what I’ve been doing the last few weeks.”
And it should have been a zinger. Sure, a slightly mean zinger, but one he would appreciate nonetheless. But something about my words changed from slightly mean to very mean when they hit Saxon’s ears, and the look he gave me was a kind of panicked upset, like he didn’t want to be as affected as he was by them.
Then it hit me; his hints about rehab, the fights he’d been getting in, the missed school, the self-destructive things he was doing had all started when I’d cut off all contact with him.
Was I making something out of nothing? I looked at Saxon, but it was as if he’d never heard my last words. He didn’t look upset or happy or otherwise. He was chewing. His face was bland.
But I sensed that he was hurt. By my not caring. And if my gut was right, and I had a pretty dead-on gut, then he was acting out to get my attention, trying to get me to care about him.
And I had to know then, because mulling something like that over would give me an ulcer. I chose my words as carefully as I could. “I could care as your friend. About you. If you want.”