And we were off, released into the cold air of Paris, jostling and laughing. Saxon took my hand without asking, and we walked slightly behind the others.
“Do you know Caroline?” I tried not to be jealous. I had no right, of course. Despite the catastrophe of this evening, I still considered myself connected most strongly to Jake.
“She and I made out when we were in middle school. One of these trips, but it was England.” He shook my hand back and forth. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I’m not worried.” My hand was limp in his. “At all.”
“Really? Cause you seem a little huffy, Blix.” My heel got caught on a loose cobblestone, and he caught me under the elbow when I tottered.
I got my balance, pulled my arm away from him. He grabbed my hand. “Look, I know you have a man-whore history, so I won’t even be shocked if you’ve pawed every girl we meet for the next two weeks.”
“What’s with you anyway, Bren? You’ve got some bad taste in guys.” He dropped my hand and threw his arm around my shoulders. “Jake Kelly and now me. Two of the worst, Blix. What’s wrong with a nice straightedge from one of your AP classes?”
“You are in my AP classes,” I pointed out.
What was strangest about this whole night was that once Saxon and I decided to go beyond just friends, he became friendlier than he’d ever been to me. And now that I was preoccupied thinking about Jake and what he was doing and thinking, I had no interest in trying to outthink Saxon. It was liberating, in a way.
By the time we got to the club, I was ready to stop thinking. The music was way too loud and it was all French, which was actually great. I didn’t want to hear anything that would remind me of home.
Saxon checked our coats and went to the bar. I don’t know how he got them, but he managed to get two shots.
“Here, Blix.” He held the glass out to me. “It’s not going to get you plastered or anything. Bottoms up?”
I took the tiny glass and we clinked together. I felt bonded to him, the way doing anything secretly bad makes you an instant accomplice. I threw the liquor down my throat in one fiery liquid ball that was no worse than Listerine. Saxon grinned and led me to the edge of the dancers. The others in our group were already on the dance floor, but Saxon was clearly not interested in hunting them down.
The music was infectious, and that one shot coursed through my untried system with a lot of strength. I felt good moving, and my muscles relaxed as I sank into the music. Saxon wound up being as great a dancer as his sexiness promised. He was attentive and funny and when he moved, I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.
We danced to show off at first, throwing in a crazy move here and there, making each other laugh, and it was the laughter that closed the gap between us. Soon, we were dancing closer, and Saxon would reach out to touch my waist or I would balance myself with a hand on his shoulder. The music got louder and more intense and we laughed harder. Soon Saxon’s hand didn’t move from my waist and then both of his hands were on me. Then we were dancing so close our hips ground together, and I had a flashback to our Dirty Dancinggroup date a few months back, when his finger on my ankle had irritated me.
Suddenly that perfect day rushed back, and Jake rushed back with it. I realized that I still had the picture of him from the movie theater on my cell phone, and I wanted to see it. Maybe it was just torturing myself, but I needed to see Jake again, however I could. I told Saxon I had to go to the bathroom. He watched me head out. I had stuffed my cell phone in the cup of my bra so that I would have it on hand no matter what.
After dancing for such a long time, my phone was sweat-covered and hot, but it worked fine. The bathroom was incredibly quiet, cool and white tiled. There were a few girls in the stalls, two of them throwing up loudly, but I just ignored them and closed myself into my own tiny space. I slid the phone on and went through my picture menu. There was the image of Jake, his great smile and chipped tooth and sexy gray eyes. I felt a rush of remorse. What was I doing? How had things changed so quickly?
But there was also the feeling that I had been hurtling towards this since the day I met Saxon, a full half day before Jake. I chalked it up to bad fate that I had to meet the two of them at once. But it was my fate, and I had to follow it as I saw fit.
I came out of the stall and wiped some of my runny mascara from under my eyes. I didn’t feel like going back out, but I knew I would. A text appeared on my phone suddenly, and I felt a thrill, thinking it might be Jake.
It was Saxon.
Outside,it said.
I left the bathroom and headed out in my skimpy dress. Saxon was outside, my coat over his arm, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He held my coat open, and I slid my arms in appreciatively.
“You done dancing?” He ran a hand down my arm.
I nodded, then made a face at his cigarette.
“You ever try one?” He took the smoldering stick out of his mouth and held it out to me.
I shook my head.
“You broke up with your perfect boyfriend, made out with the biggest asshole you know, drank a shot, dressed like a slut, dirty danced, and now you’re going to turn your nose up at one little cigarette? You’re going to get enough damn second hand smoke hanging out with me anyway. Why not give up and smoke one?”
I clutched my coat closed. “You think I look like a slut?”
“The finest, classiest slut I’ve ever seen.” He held me at arms’ length and his eyes dropped to my feet. “With the sexiest shoes. Man, those are fuck-me shoes.”
“That is not the message I’m trying to send with them.” I turned my heel and looked at my shoe from the side. Saxon shrugged and held the cigarette out again.
I laughed a little, then took the cigarette from his hand and eyed it quizzically. I held it the way he held his, low between his index and middle fingers, pulled a drag into my lungs, felt it burn and blew it back out.
Saxon cracked up. “You need to hold it higher up. That low look only works for guys, okay?”
I adjusted it so it was higher between my fingers and took another drag, pulled the smoke in smoothly and blew it back out. “Nah. Not for me. I realize why you do it now.”
“Why’s that?” He took it back and pulled another a deep drag.
“Because of how it feels. And looks. It really is just a prop.” He started to walk, and I walked with him.
“You’re implying that I’m insecure?” Smoke clouded around his face.
“Oh, I’m not implying. I’m coming out and saying that you’re insecure. The cigarette is just a cool toy. That will kill you and makes you stink.” We listened to the sound of his footsteps and the click of my heels as he contemplated my words.
He studied the cigarette. “It might have started as a lame security blanket. But I get edgy if I don’t have one now.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Obviously, Saxon. They’re addictive.”
He smiled at me and switched gears so quickly and uncharacteristically, it made my head spin. “I like it when you say my name.” His voice was sweet and sexy twined together. He took my hand, and I let him.
“How come?”
“Cause it makes me feel like you’re my girl instead of some random hot girl I’m lusting after. When you use my name, I feel like you might really want to be talking to me because I’m the one person you want to be around most.” His smile was so adorable, it made my heart seize up.
“Do you want that?” I looked into his eyes, now so warmly gold they were practically glowing. “You want us to be together? Like, beyond this trip?”
“Yeah.” He stepped closer to me. “That’s the goal.”
“And you plan to just date me? If we got together?” My hands shook.
“Yeah.” He ran the back of his fingers along my cheek and I closed my eyes. “I never really had this urge before. To be with one girl. I feel like I wouldn’t get tired of you.”