“I’ll think about it,” I say, not wanting to discuss it anymore. Saxon’s face breaks into a victorious smile, and I narrow my eyes at him. “What?” I ask, scowling.
“The last time you told me you would think about it you showed up at Argo on Monday morning,” he says, laughing at me.
I slap his arm. “Come on, smart-ass. Feed me, I’m starving.”
Saxon follows me out of the exhibit, still laughing behind me. I roll my eyes while breaking out in a huge smile too. Smug bastard.
Stepping out of the art exhibit, it’s like I’m walking on a cloud. I feel light and free, and I relish the sensation. I’m more like myself. This is what I needed to remind me to relax, to reinforce my decision to stop analysing, and just let go and go with the flow. A reminder that I’m young and still alive.
Saxon steps up next to me on the sidewalk. We’re heading to the restaurant area of the river district, and I’m enjoying the sights: young couples hold each other as they walk the streets, small children run along the grass on the river’s edge, laughing and screaming while families are parked up on picnic rugs enjoying the warm sunny day.
The river district is a popular location. It caters to all types with monthly events, restaurants, and the local markets. No matter what day or time you come it’s always full of locals and tourists alike, enjoying the best the city has to offer.
I’m pulled out of my daydream by Saxon’s warm hand wrapping itself lightly around my own. A small tremble runs through me as I look up to see him trying to act casual as he glances around at our surroundings. A small smile touches my lips, and I give his hand a squeeze, telling him without making an issue that’s it’s okay.
He then intertwines our fingers together as the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. The warmth from his hand is comforting and even though I can’t explain it, there is something familiar about it. There are no butterflies. You know the ones, when you’re younger and the guy you’ve been crushing on for ages holds your hand for the first time. This feels like we’ve been doing it for years; it feels like coming home.
I guess when you’re so used to having something, doing a certain thing for so long, it becomes a part of you. You don’t realise how you’ve missed it until you have it again. This must be it. I just miss Nate. Miss the intimacy of having someone around, after being so used to it after ten years.
We continue our walk to the restaurant in silence while grasping each other’s hands tightly. Who knew holding hands could be so intimate? It’s like I’m giving Saxon more of myself doing this than I did when we slept together. I’m opening myself up more and letting him see more of me, making myself more vulnerable somehow.
I also feel more guilt. This isn’t what people who are friends who had sex once, okay twice, do. This isn’t just satisfying a physical need. What if someone saw us? How would this look? My stomach is churning with all these thoughts and a lump forms in my throat, knowing the tears will be next. I don’t know why but I only squeeze Saxon’s hand tighter, like he can protect me from these thoughts, protect me from the consequences of our actions. My actions. I should be pulling away, but instead I’m pulling him closer.
Why not? He’s saved me plenty of times over the past few months.
Reaching the restaurant, he lets go of my hand as he reaches forward to pull the door open for me. There is an instant feeling of loss, and I hate that I’m reacting that way.
He places his hand on the small of my back, leading us to the table the hostess pointed out. The touch of his hand through the thin material of my blouse sends warmth through me, and Saxon tenses behind me before pulling his hand away.
He holds my chair for me before choosing his own seat across the table. I wonder if he didn’t sit next to me on purpose, and I hate that it bothers me, that I’m even thinking about it.
The waitress pulls me from my pouting as she places down our menus and starts rambling off the specials. I lift my menu, instantly ignoring her spiel as my mind races. I scold myself once again. I had decided this morning to let go, to not think so much and stop analysing everything. I’m already doing it again.
As I lower my menu, Saxon is looking at me with a huge smile on his face. I can’t help but return his grin, and my stomach begins loosening up.
“Have you decided what you want?” he asks, closing his own menu.
Shit. I didn’t even read the menu. I was too consumed by my own thoughts. “What’s good here?” I ask, hoping he has dined here before and I don’t sound like an idiot.
“They have one of the best steaks around. If you’re looking for something a little lighter, the salmon is great too.”