Are You Mine

Chapter 18


Fox


I wake up the day after the concert to an empty bed. It takes me a second to realize I’m in a hotel room. Saige isn’t in bed next to me, but I can hear the shower running, so it’s not a mystery where she is. I lift the covers and glance down at my naked body. Every single second of the night before floods back into my mind.

Thinking about having sex with Saige and knowing she’s naked in the shower pushes my thoughts to having more sex with Saige. I have to fight to gain control because I don’t even know how she feels about what we did last night. She said she was fine with it and after, she kissed me and pushed the hair off my forehead with such care that I was sure that is what perfection feels like.

I’m pretty sure she enjoyed it, but with Saige, I always worry about things changing. Maybe with the morning light, she’s realized it was too soon or that we’re not right for each other. Maybe it will make it weird between us now that we’ve done it.

As I shove my legs over the side of the bed, find my boxers and slide them on, I’m filled with determination to take any awkwardness out of this morning. While I feel like getting into the shower with her, I don’t. It sounds sexy and seems like it’d be a romantic-type thing to do, it could backfire. Saige is insecure when it comes to her body. I think she’s hot, but it doesn’t matter what I think. It matters how she feels, so getting in the shower with her might make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want that.

Instead, I pick up the phone and order food. I’m starving, and I’m sure she’ll want breakfast before we check out. When the food is delivered, I set it out on the table and start the coffee. As soon as Saige appears in the doorway of the bedroom, I point to the table and smile.

She looks from me, to the food, back to me, and then away again, so I pick up two muffins. I use them as puppets as I act out an old joke. “Once upon a time, in a land, far, far away, two muffins were being warmed by the kitchen fire. One muffin said, ‘Man, it sure is hot over here.’ And the other muffin looks at him and yells, ‘Oh, my God, a talking muffin!’”

I toss the muffin who played the frightened one in my joke to Saige. She catches it, and she breaks a smile. “You’re silly.”

I sit when she does, then try to be as much of a proper gentleman as I know how to be. I pour her coffee across the table, push the butter over to her, ask her if the eggs and bacon look all right, but I can’t stand it anymore. I push my chair back, round the table, and kiss her.

“Good morning,” I say as I pull away. “Sorry if my breath stinks. Someone was hogging the bathroom.”

She laughs, and it’s good to hear. Once I’m seated again, I pick at my muffin. I want her to say something, but she doesn’t, so I launch into another joke. “So do you know why the cookie goes to the doctor?”

“Because he feels crummy?”

I make an exaggerated noise, like I’m super annoyed that she has already heard my joke, but as I’m looking at her, I’m anything but annoyed. She’s beautiful, and the fact that she let me make love with her warms my soul.

I don’t know if we should avoid addressing last night. I’m not usually the type of guy who needs to be reassured about almost anything, but I am filled with doubt and feel incredibly vulnerable at the moment.

“So about what we did,” I start to say, but she interrupts before I can finish.

“I liked it.”

I breathe a little easier. “Me, too.”

And just like that, I feel fantastic and wish our trip could be extended, not because I want to do anything else in Chicago, but just because when we go back to Pechimu, we’ll resume our regular lives. We’ll be separated by my work schedule and the fact that we don’t live together.

“Do you want to do it again before we take off?”

I feel my jaw drop open a bit, and when my eyes find her, I take a second to collect my thoughts. “You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You’re creative. You make me feel awesome when I’m around you.” I pause for dramatic effect and raise both eyebrows. “And you like sex? You are the perfect woman, Saige Armstrong.”

There is no better response to my words than her blush.

***

I’m back at the warehouse the next morning, and it’s hard to stay grounded because it has been so long since I’ve felt this good. It’s not sex with Saige that has me floating on a cloud—although I have to admit, that is awesome on its own. It’s more that Saige loves me enough to share herself with me.

Also, I don’t feel dumb around her. It’s not like Natasha. I have no doubt Saige is just as intelligent as my old girlfriend, but Saige doesn’t use huge words that I have no idea what they mean or how to even begin to spell them. As selfish and sad as it is to admit it, Saige doesn’t have parents to tell her how stupid I am and how beneath her I am. In fact, I think her grandmother likes me.

As I slide another box on top of a five-foot stack, someone slaps me on my back. I crane my neck and see Jason smiling widely at me. “So,” he starts off slowly. “I guess you finally got that girl to go out with you, huh?”

I’m not sure how he knows, so I just raise an eyebrow at him as I grab the shrink wrap. Jason goes on. “Well for years, you haven’t missed a day of work and now all the sudden you’re giving shifts away, calling out, acting like there’s something more important than earning the mighty greenback.”

After I tie the end of the wrap to the pallet, I stand up straight. I should probably work and talk, but he’s asking about Saige and that demands my full attention. “Her name’s Saige. We went to Chicago to see a concert, and it was amazing.”

“So, this Saige, is she pretty?”

I make a noise like pffft as I narrow my eyes and throw my head back a bit like he’s just insulted me. “Pretty? Oh man, she’s beautiful, and she doesn’t even know it.”

“Best kind of girl.”

Jason’s words are lost on me as I think about her beautiful complicated hair and her hazel eyes. “I mean, how can a girl that beautiful not know it?”

“I guess some women just—”

“And she thinks she’s fat, which is—”

“Is she?” he interrupts me to ask.

“No. She’s perfect. I mean, seriously, she’s one hundred percent perfect in every way.” I mean it. Not just physically, but in all ways, Saige is exactly what I want. Sure, sometimes she drinks too much, but the beauty of people is in the little flaws that contribute to the perfection. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but it feels like it’s true. Saige has gotten rid of all her alcohol, and she’s trying. That’s worth more than—

“Mr. Harrington.”

I shake out of my thoughts and focus my eyes on my boss. I can see the backside of Jason as he walks back to his cart. “Hey, Mr. Morgan.”

“Do you have a moment?” he asks, but before I can answer, he says, “Of course you do. You have multiple moments to stand around with Mr. Torres and chit chat, so I’m sure you can share a few for me.”

There is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I put down the wrap and follow him to his office. Mr. Morgan doesn’t say anything until we’re both sitting down. He folds his hands together on the desk and gives me a cold stare. “What’s going on, Fox?”

I try to put on a charming grin, but his tone is seriously concerning. “What do you mean, Mr. Morgan?”

“You have always been such a great employee. I never had to worry about you. You’re a good worker, punctual, dependable, but now out of the blue you’re giving up your shifts, not calling in, not being productive while you’re here.”

I twist in my chair and point to the warehouse through his window. “That’s my third order. My seventh pallet. I’m being productive. I probably shouldn’t have stopped to talk to Jason, but I—”

“Okay, so what about the scheduling? We’ve given you shifts because you’re one of our best workers, and now you’re leaving us hanging.”

“No, sir,” I say. “I traded most of my shifts and for a couple, I just outright handed them over.”

“Who did you give your Saturday shift to?”

“Steve.”

Mr. Morgan pushes his lips out as he taps on his desk with one finger. “Well Steve never showed up for it, so we lost eight hours, which put the rest of your teammates behind.”

“I’m sorry, Mr.—”

“I don’t have anything on paper that shows you gave your shift to anyone, therefore, the No Call, No Show is yours to bear. Our policy book, which you signed as acknowledgment of reading it, is quite clear. I have to suspend you.”

“What?” Even though I signed the back page of the handbook stating I read the entire book, I didn’t. I couldn’t get past the second page, and I hadn’t wanted to bother my dad to help me.

“I need you to clock out for the day. Today will serve as the first day of your suspension, and let’s see,” he says as he shuffles through papers on his desk. “Yes, tomorrow you’re scheduled, so that will be the second day.”

“I can’t work?”

His eyes connect with mine again. “No, Fox. You’re suspended without pay for two days. We’ll pay you for your time this morning, but the policy is clear, and I can’t make—”

“But like you said I’m a good employee, I lined up someone to take the shift and I. . .” For a second I think about lying and telling him I had to miss because of my mother. He doesn’t know the full extent of her issues, but he knows she’s sick and lives in a hospital. In the end, I don’t say anything. I’m not opposed to lying when it’s necessary, but I would hate to use my mother as an excuse for something like this.

I sit there for another few seconds before standing up. “Okay. I can come back on Wednesday, right?”

“Of course, you can,” Mr. Morgan says as he stands up. “Fox, I’m not happy I have to suspend you. You have great potential, however, we have rules.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, but my mind isn’t on the loss of income or the disappointment of my boss. It’s on all the free time I now have to spend with Saige.

It only takes five minutes to get to her place. When she finally opens the door, she looks like she just rolled out of bed. I glance at my watch. It’s only ten in the morning so chances are, she did just get up, probably only because my knocking was too loud to ignore.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You have work.”

I wave my hand at her. “Ah, work. How can I work when the prettiest girl in the world—A.K.A. my girlfriend, A.K.A. you—is home all by herself in need of entertainment.”

“I’m—”

I cut off any words she may have when I step into her apartment and pick her up. I kiss her, but she turns away a little, so I kiss her cheek, jaw, and neck. It’s the neck kissing that gets her squirming. I can tell she likes it, but that it’s borderline ticklish. After I kick the door closed behind me, she presses her palms to my chest. “Let me brush my teeth, then you can kiss me properly.”

As much as it pains me, I let her down, and when she goes into the bathroom, I walk into the living room and pick up the most current copy of “Myka’s Metal Valentine,” after turning on some music. Immediately, I feel a smile tug on my mouth. I’m proud of this graphic novel. It’s almost finished, and I’m excited to see the looks on Myka and Valentine’s faces when we hand it over.

I set the pages down and think about how we can bind it properly. I don’t know about things like that, but I bet Saige can find out. There’s blank paper on the table, so I grab a piece and find the nearest writing utensil, which happens to be a black ink pen. When I hear the shower kick on, I know I could be out here by myself for a while, so I start to sketch.

Once one page is filled, I start on the next and fill it with black lines. Then another blank page becomes a picture, and another until Saige’s voice startles me out of my drawing frenzy. “What’s all this?”

I look up as I set the pen down, then glance back at the pages and draw them to me. When I sit down on the couch, stacked paper in one hand, I wrap my arm around her waist and bring her down to sit on my lap. First, I give her a proper kiss, and she returns it. Then, when I’m ready to end it, I show her the drawings, one by one.

“This is of us on an airplane.”

“Obviously,” she says.

“This one,” I say as I bring the next sheet to the top, “is of us after we land.”

“That’s not Chicago.”

“Nope.” I give her another kiss like it’s a reward for her correct statement. “This is London.”

“Okay.”

I shift the pages again. “And this is Liverpool.” I flip that page to the back, then say, “And this is Anfield.”

“We’re sitting together in a stadium?”

“Yep. Watching a Liverpool game.” I show her the final page. “And of course, this is the Liverpool lads winning the game! See? There’s Suárez and Agger and Skrtel and JonJo Shelvey—”

“So this is us in England?” Saige shifts away and moves off me.

I take her hand in mine. “Yeah.”

“You know I can’t go with you. I’ve got—”

“School,” I finish for her. “I know.” I also know she hasn’t decided between NYU and California. “It’s just a fantasy, Saige. Just pictures showing a possible future.”

Saige doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell it has made her uncomfortable, so I let it go as I get up and turn up the music. “What do you do when you see a spaceman?”

She just stands by the couch with her eyes are still cast down to the table; still studying my sketches. I don’t know why they bother her, and I know she won’t tell me, so I answer my own joke. “You park your car quickly, man.”

I can tell she’s not even trying to work out the joke. The whole thing is lost on her. It’s not my best one, but I thought it would at least distract her for a second while she realized it was really about a parking space.

The Avett Brother’s “Kick Drum Heart” comes on. It is so awesome Saige likes these guys enough to put them on her mp3 player, or maybe she just likes me enough to put them on there.

“Quick,” I say, stepping up close to her and feeling the need to be goofy and erase the slight awkwardness of the day. “Get the drums! I’ll be on the keyboard.”

I start moving my fingers as if I’m playing with the song, but she just stands there looking at me like I’m nuts. “Aw, come on, Saigey! Air drums are awesome.” I act like I’m pushing a drum set to her. “I gave you the better air instrument, you know?”

When she smiles, I ask, “Don’t believe me? Here.” I pretend to set the keyboard aside and wail on the drums for a minute, then flip the imaginary drumsticks to her. Much to my pleasure, she starts to play. I hate that she can be so self-conscious, but I love that she’s willing to be a little silly when I need her to be.

“That’s it,” I say. “You are such a badass on the air drums!”

When that song is over and the Elvis Presley song sung by a girl—the one we danced to days and days ago—comes on, I drop the imaginary instruments and bring her into my arms. “Hope you don’t mind, but you’re going to have to spend the next two days with me.”

“Again?” she asks in an exaggerated tone. If I could see her face, I know she’d be rolling her eyes.

“Yes, again.” I tighten my arms around her. “Do you mind?” It sounds more insecure than I had meant it to, but the feeling is real, so I’m not ashamed. Saige could get tired of me at any time, and while I would live through that experience, I don’t want it to happen.

“Yes, you’re interrupting the very busy day I had planned. I was going to sit around and stare at the computer screen for a few hours, take an afternoon nap, then watch ridiculous reality television until the wee hours of the morning, but I guess, since you’re already here, I can fit dancing with an ultra-hot guy into that schedule.”

I kiss her. Getting suspended from work is worth it if I can feel like this.

***

After lunch, I finally talk Saige into going to the park with me. It’s a beautiful space filled with flowers and green grass. There’s even a lake and a few yards away, a playground where laughing kids have the time of their lives even though it feels hotter than a desert today.

We tour around the paths with her hand in mine for a couple minutes before copping a squat underneath a large tree. I’m sort of surprised when she sits right down and doesn’t complain about not having a blanket to cover the ground. Saige isn’t high-maintenance, but she can be a bit particular about things. Though, that’s not the case today.

I’m flat on my back, looking up into the branches of the tree. It’s a beautiful perspective, and I’ll have to remember to paint it later. “Why did my drawings freak you out a bit this morning?” I ask her.

Saige hesitates for a moment as she picks a few clovers and plucks the leaves from them. “Because you’re drawing a future of us together.”

It feels like my heart stops for a second, then beats all the harder when it begins again. “Why does that freak you out?”

Again, it takes her a minute to reply, but she does. “Because I don’t usually plan for the future.”

“It wasn’t a plan,” I remind her. “Just a fantasy. A dream. I know you dream about things. It’s no different from California.”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “I get it.”

I carefully wrap my fingers around the crook of her arm and tug her down until she’s next to me, her head pillowed on my bicep. “The future can be really awesome, you know? Even just to think about. We’re young and the world is supposed to be ours.”

“You know that song you play, like, all the time? ‘The Ballad of Love and Hate’?”

I don’t know why she’s asking, but I say, “Yeah. You’re Love and I’m Hate.”

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, and you know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Love is happy and free. Hate—who is me—can’t be any of those things until you’re around. You spread this unshakable positivity and joy wherever you go.”

While the compliment isn’t lost on me, I choose not to say anything about it. “What does this have to do with the sketches?”

It’s like she didn’t even hear my question. “But me, I stick to myself and feel negative until. . .”

“Until I come around?”

Saige nods against my chest. “I’m a better person around you.”

“No. You just let the good in you shine out more when you’re around me. Is that scary or something?”

It seems like she’s not going to say anything, but then she takes a deep breath and loudly lets it out. “So why would someone like you want someone like me?”

As I tighten my arms around her, I smile. She’s just as insecure as I am about our new relationship. “What are you asking?”

“Why do you like me?”

“Love,” I say to correct her. “I love you, Saige.” She tries to shift away as she takes in a breath like she’s about to say something, but I keep her close and continue. “It doesn’t matter that we’ve only been hanging out for a month or so. I feel what I feel.”

“But why do you feel it? I’m not cool. I’m not pretty or particularly smart. I can’t—”

“Stop right there,” I say as I bring us into a sitting position. I shift until we’re sitting opposite of each other and I can look her straight in the eyes. “You’re gorgeous and one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. You—”

“I didn’t get into Columbia like Natasha.”

My heart aches just a little at the name. “Did you apply?”

“No.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So you’ll never know.” I touch her cheek for just a moment before letting my hand drop into my lap. “And don’t compare yourself to Natasha. She never went out of her way to be kind to Taylor Wilkins, and she didn’t even like The Avett Brothers, so you have such a big advantage.”

This makes her laugh, but she keeps her head down. I keep speaking because she obviously needs to know why I love her. “Underneath your hard, abrasive exterior and underneath my soft, friendly persona, we’re the same. You hide out and I let out. You go inside yourself, and I go outside myself, but apart from what’s out here,” I say, gesturing to her, myself, and our surroundings, “we’re just little kids wondering if anyone else understands what it’s like to lose the things we’ve lost.”

“What have we lost?” she asks.

“Our mothers. Your father. Control of what our worlds were like. I mean, we’ve gotten that back, but when we were kids, we were helpless at the hands of whatever life gave us.”

“Children can never control that.”

“No,” I say. “But usually they have parents to do it.”

“You had your—”

“Pop is great, and he did a great job looking out for me, but even as a kid, I knew he had a lot on his plate and couldn’t handle it all. I tried not to bother him.” I take Saige’s hands. “I know what you’re doing.”

Finally, she looks up at me, and I don’t need any words to confirm my suspicion. Her reaction to my sketches, the comparison of herself to Natasha, her need to know why I love her. Even a dummy like me can figure it out. “Don’t do this, Saige. Don’t break my heart. Don’t break our connection just because it’s a little terrifying to feel something you’ve never felt before. Acknowledge that we’re the same underneath and stop looking at all the outward differences. I’m no more Love than you are. Our hearts and minds understand each other. Circumstance doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re connected.”

Her eyes are watery and as I squeeze her hands, a tear slips from one of them. Saige tries to reclaim a hand to wipe it away, but I won’t let her. “I’m not scared,” she says, but it’s nowhere near convincing.

“Natasha never met my mom, Saige. She barely even asked about her because it’s easier for some people to ignore the things that cause other people pain than it is to acknowledge it. You’ve seen my mom. You know how she is. I wouldn’t let just anybody in on that secret part of my life. And you can pretend like you’re not scared, I won’t think any less of you, but I’ll admit to you right now that I’m so scared.”

“Why?”

“Because every day I think about how lucky I am to have you in my life and how much I love you, and every day I think about how much it would hurt to lose you.” I let go of her hands, and use the tip of my finger to wipe the tear out of its track on her cheek. “So don’t break the heart I’ve given you. I swear to God, I’ll keep yours safe too.”

I let go of her hands, scoot closer, and sweep her hair away from her face. I leave my hands where they are, cupping her cheeks and jaw. As I brush my thumbs over her cheekbones, she closes her eyes, and I gently touch the closed lids. Soft and delicate.

When I’m ready to break this quiet spell, I ask, “Why do you let yourself get scared enough to think about ending it with me? It would be okay if you just didn’t care about me and wanted to end it because we had nothing between us, but I just don’t believe that.”

“I don’t. . .I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you do, and yes, you were.”

Saige’s chin quivers, and an expression crosses her face that makes me so sad it physically hurts inside, but then she looks down at her lap and takes away my opportunity to study her pain. I slide my hands down to her shoulders instead of forcing her head back up. Saige’s voice is quiet when she speaks. “I guess I just want to be the one—”

“Who leaves this time?”

Saige looks up at me again, and I know I’m right. “I don’t mean to be like this,” she says. “Myka says I sabotage all the good things in my life, but it’s just easier than getting involved.”

“And letting someone love you?”

“Yeah.”

I add, “And loving them back?”

This time, she doesn’t say anything, just nods. I don’t want the whole day to be weighed down by all of this, so I have to find something to say to change the subject. I take her hands again and pull her up as I stand. “Let’s walk this path again. Maybe there’s a flower we missed.”

Once we’re back on the paved path, her hand in mine, I ask, “Do you know what word is always spelled incorrectly in the dictionary?”

Although I think she’s only half paying attention, she considers the question. She must not remember that she’s answered this once before. “How can a word always be spelled wrong in the dictionary? I’m pretty sure they employ people to catch—”

“Come on, Saigey, you’re a smart girl. I didn’t say it was spelled wrong, although there’s always a word that’s spelled wrong too.”

She knits her eyebrow together in concentration, which means she’s not thinking about anything other than the question. Saige has moved on from her self-sabotage and inclination to break our relationship off.

Exactly what I want.

The moment the answer comes to her is a moment of pure beauty. The muscles in her face relax, her lips part as she takes a breath, and those beautiful hazel eyes lock with mine. “That’s a good one.”

“A good one what?” I say, playing dumb. “Oh, did you figure it out?”

“Yes. The word that’s always spelled incorrectly is incorrectly.”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” I pick Saige up and swing her around, and when our bodies stop turning, I kiss her before letting her feet hit the ground. “I love you, Saige.”

She looks at her feet against the path but then gazes back up at me. “I love you too, Fox.”

***

The day I go back to work isn’t a great one. Not only do I find myself thinking almost exclusively about Saige and wanting to be with her, but I find that I’m demoted back to being a picker. I don’t lose any money per hour, but Mr. Morgan has decided that being a packer is a privilege I no longer have.

Since I started working at both jobs, the book warehouse and the Burger Joint, the warehouse has always been my favorite, especially when I’d gotten the news I didn’t have to roam around the massive place singing my ABCs to figure out where the next item on my list is located.

Now, I’m back to being a picker; back to walking around the mile-wide warehouse and hopefully grabbing the right books to fill the order.

“Tough break, kid,” Jason says, then punches me on the shoulder. “But at least we can shoot the shit more without the boss glaring at us.”

I toss him a smile, but he doesn’t understand why this isn’t a great thing to have happened. “Do you still go behind the QR row for extra breaks?”

“Shhhh!” he says, finger to his lips as he sweeps his eyes from side to side. “Don’t give it away. Not many people know about it, but those of us who do, keep it quiet.”

“Okay,” I say in an exaggerated whisper as I grab my invoice and scan the jumble of letters. “I guess we’d better get started.”

Jason laughs, grabs my sheet, tosses it onto my cart, and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Been too long, Fox. Don’t gotta get straight to it. First, we gotta get some coffee, maybe eat a donut or two, talk about the baseball game, walk past the nudie books and stare at some—”

“Yeah, I guess I forgot about all that,” I say, intentionally interrupting. Most of the erotica books are in the same place. It’s not like we have a lot of call for those types of novels during back to school, but it’s a favorite hang-out for some of the guys. To be honest, it always made me a bit uncomfortable. It’s not that I have anything against sex or that I don’t like the subject, but dudes reading snippets of erotic novels made for women to other dudes just seems weird.

I take the invoice again. Even if I don’t start right away, it’s going to take some time to make all the letters go in their proper spots and create a word, much less a book title. It’s so much easier just to verify that others have selected the correct book.

I’m not one to panic, but I feel a familiar queasiness rising within me. It’s the same feeling I used to get before big tests or an essay assignment.

It’s going to be a long day, and I’m not sure simple thoughts of Saige will be able to get me through it.