A Beautiful Forever(10)

“What, and you know me so much better?” I say in retort.

He shakes his head, “No, I don’t know anything about you.” He walks backwards, watching me for a few steps, before turning around and catching up to the other guys as we walk towards the night club.

Petra and Naomi fall in either side of me, “You are going to love this place Paige,” Petra gushes. “There’s always great music and tons of people, we go and get drunk and then dance until we can’t walk anymore.”

“Sounds great,” I laugh.

“It’s better than great,” Naomi points out. “We booked a table on the mezzanine level, tonight is going to be epic, and since you don’t have to worry about going back to your hotel, you get to cut loose with us.”

Sneaking a few glances, I watch Elliot as he interacts with the other guys – I’m not sure if he’s annoyed with me or just teasing. Either way, I feel kind of lonely without him next to me – he’s kind of been growing on me this past week.





Chapter 8


Elliot


It’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday night, and we’re standing around, not quite lined up, outside a nightclub in the midst of a bunch of 18-year-old girls shivering their butts off in tiny skirts and way too much make up. At 27, I’m really starting to feel too old for these places but Petra is only 20, and she loves the club scene, so her farewell – her choice.

This is supposedly her favourite place. It's called Fabric, and as she tells it, there are three different rooms where DJs play all night – it sounds enormous, and really, really loud.

The doors open and Petra leads us all straight to the door where we get to jump the cue, she’s booked a table on the mezzanine level for all of us, so we can either sit and drink or get down and dance in the sweaty pit of people expected below. Personally, I’d rather not go down there; this night club is bigger than any I’ve ever been in. My idea of a crowded night club is obviously nothing compared with the reality of a club in a big city with twice the population of Sydney.

Once upstairs, a waitress comes to our table and takes everyone’s drink orders, returning quickly and handing them around. The mood is high as I watch everyone’s smiling faces while they attempt to interact with each other to the tune of some house music that mutes their voices to everyone but the ear they’re yelling in.

Paige is keeping her distance from me as she stands at the railing, attempting to talk to Petra while she holds her drink and looks out over the room. She’s bouncing her knee to the beat and attracting the attention of a few of the guys at another table. I can see them ogling her arse while they unashamedly and very obviously talk about her.

As the night wears on one of the guys goes over to ask her to dance, she’s talking and smiling at him, and it’s really hard for me to watch, even though she’s obviously refusing him. She shakes her head ‘no’ more vigorously when he inclines his head to the dance floor for a second time. When he puts his hand on her arm to try to coax her again, I’ve reached my limit and stand up to walk over there.

Her brow furrows as she looks from him to the hand he’s using to coax her and pushes him away from her. This guy is such an idiot that he tries to grab her around the waist and dance with her where they stand. My blood starts to pump through my ears as I shake my head at his actions, I don’t care how drunk you are; you don’t touch a girl when she’s saying no to you – this guy just earned a punch to the face, and I don’t give them out very often.

As I approach, I see Paige push him back, there’s a fire in her eyes as she flicks her glass, splashing the contents all over the guy’s face. I halt my advance as in one swift move, she grabs the guy’s shoulders and jams her knee into his crotch, stepping back and brushing away the back splash of her drink from her dress.





Paige


What a jackass! I said I didn’t want to dance, and I meant it. I hate people touching me when I don’t invite them to. As I turn to walk back over to the table, I'm faced with Elliot standing in front of me with his mouth wide open, eyeing the crumpled guy I just kneed in the groin.

“I think I’d better go,” I say close to his ear, needing to yell over the music.

His mouth spreads into a smile, “That, was awesome!” he comments, nodding his head appraisingly.

“Thanks,” I laugh, “but I still think I should go, tell Petra and Naomi good bye for me?” I ask as I go to move past him.

“Paige, wait – I’ll go with you.”

“Elliot, I don’t need you to. As you can see I don’t need protecting.”

“That may be true but I’m not into night clubs anymore. I've had enough of them – Besides, you’re supposed to be staying with us tonight, and I have the keys.”

“Fine, let’s go,” I agree. We stop off at the table and interrupt Shane and his girlfriend while they make out, to let them know we’re leaving. Who knows if they’ll remember, they seem pretty smashed right now.

To be on the safe side, Elliot pulls out his phone and texts the others to tell them we’re going - hoping that at least one of them will check their phone before they leave.

We flag down a cab, not wanting to ride a train again and Elliot gives the driver the address to the flat.

After a good five minutes worth of driving in silence Elliot starts laughing, “I can’t believe you kneed that guy in the crotch.”

I chuckle a little as I look out the window and think about the look on his face as he went down, “Well, he shouldn’t have been so grabby with me.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you. My fist really wanted to have a conversation with his face after watching the way he was treating you,” he says bluntly.

I look over at him, studying his profile as he stares ahead stoically, “Where you going to rescue me Elliot?” I ask.

He looks at me and smiles, “I don’t know what I was going to do really, I just didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

We lock eyes for a moment, quietly regarding each other. I’m not sure how I feel about this man being protective of me. I’ve been on my own and fought for myself for so long now. The thought of someone else willing to do it for me… well…it feels kind of… nice.





Elliot


I offer to pay the cab fare but Paige insists on splitting it. Once upstairs in the flat I put the kettle on and make us both a coffee, I’ve had maybe four drinks over the course of the night, so I could do with a little pick me up – even if it is midnight.

Paige is sitting at the kitchen table, her shoes off by her chair and her feet tucked underneath as she leans her elbows on the table and watches me as I carry our mugs over.

“Thanks,” she says, blowing on her coffee and taking a tentative sip before sitting back in her chair and looking at me. “Elliot…were you annoyed with me tonight?” she asks, dropping her eyes to focus on the warm mug she’s cradling in her hands.

I watch her until she lifts her eyes to meet mine before I answer. “I wasn’t annoyed Paige. I was just giving you space, I guess. You seem to want me to back off, so…” I shrug my shoulders and pull my lips up to the side a little before taking a gulp of my coffee, now wishing I had tested it before I took such a big mouthful. It’s really hot on the way down and my eyes water slightly from the burn. Paige notices and stifles a giggle.

“No Elliot, I don’t want you to back off entirely. I like being around you, I just… I guess I just need you to understand that it can’t go any further than friendship.”

“Why not?” I find myself saying.

“Because it can’t,” she says bluntly.

We sit across the table, our eyes locked as she refuses to elaborate. I’m the first to look away as I run my hands over the top of my head in frustration and look toward the ceiling. Something tells me I’m more likely to find answers up there than I will from Paige.

“So, do you think you’re going to do any weekend trips at all while you’re here – Europe’s just over the pond, you know?” Paige says when the silence stretches out between us, in an attempt to change the subject.

Dropping my arms to take up my mug again, I stretch my legs in front of me and look at her pointedly. “Paige, do you think we could have a conversation that has a little give and take to it?”

She shifts in her seat, looking into her mug instead of at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I ask a question – you answer it with actual information. Then you ask a question, and I answer like I normally would because compared to you – I’m a sharer.” I stare at her unblinking, eyebrows raised, watching as she thinks.

She puts her mug down and sits more upright on her chair as she scratches at something real or imaginary on the table, refusing to meet my eyes again. “Fine, but I don’t have to answer everything or elaborate if I don’t want to.”