A Beautiful Forever (7 page)

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.

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.  

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.”

“Deal,” I say mentally preparing my first question. As she
adjusts herself in her chair, sitting even straighter than she was before. It’s
as if I can actually see her defences go up, her glare has an edge to it,
warning me not to push too hard.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Miranda.”

“A shire girl huh? You don’t sound like one when you speak.”

“No. I don’t. Where did you grow up?”

“Bondi. Where did you go to school?”

“Danebank.”

“Did you like it there?”

“It was a school. How about you?”

“Sydney Grammar. First job?”

Watching her, she is clearly uncomfortable talking about
herself, her arms folded protectively around her waist while she watches me as
if she is ready to shut down at any moment. I could just end this now, let her
be, but I can’t.

“Sex toy.”

I simply sit and stare back at her trying not to react to
this one, there’s a challenge in her eyes, and I feel like she’s trying to
shock me or test me to see how far she can push before I’ll stop. When I open
my mouth, I force my voice to stay even as I speak. “Sex toy?”

She shifts in her chair again and sighs, but continues eye
contact, “Salon hand.”

“How old were you when you lost your family?”

“Fifteen.”

“Then what happened?”

“My life changed.”

I feel like we’re playing a game of battleship in this
rapid-fire question and answer session, but he’s getting more turns than I am
as he moves towards the area of my life I really don’t want to talk about. It’s
time for me to focus more on him.

“Tell me about your family, are they good to you?” I urge
him, trying to get him to talk about himself, so I don’t have to refuse him an
answer. As much as I’ve had enough of talking about me, I don’t like the
thought of him being upset with me.

He sits forward, taking a drink from his mug now that it’s
had some time to cool down. “Does it upset you - talking about other people’s
families?”

I laugh; he is playing me at my own game, “Are we only going
to ask questions now?”

“Are you finished answering questions?”

“Are you still asking them?”

“Would you like a Tim Tam with your coffee?”

“Touché, Elliot,” I laugh, “You just played the chocolate
biscuit card, and you won – yes I’d love a Tim Tam.”

He smiles slightly with only half his face. It's not in any
way cocky; I get the feeling he’s been trying to show me what it’s like not to
be given answers. I watch him as he rises gracefully from his chair, the
muscles in his arms rippling as he reaches up and pulls a packet out of the
cupboard, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet room as he slides the
biscuits out of their packaging and places the tray between us.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says quietly. “Does it
upset you?”

“No, it doesn’t. I actually like hearing about other
people’s lives – their families, their friends, their interests. It’s part of
what I love about my job, these people come in and share so much about themselves,
and my gift to them is an understanding ear and little extra confidence in
their looks. So please, I’m now begging – tell me about your family.”

“Well, my mum is fantastic,” he starts. I sit and listen as
Elliot gives in and talks about his family, he’s an only child and his parents
divorced when he finished school. I can tell from the way he talks that he
adores his mother and step dad, but he doesn’t say much about his father.

“So where’s your father now? Do you have much to do with
him?”

“We don’t talk much anymore. He wanted me to be a barrister
and when I threw in the towel and altered my career path – he threw in the
towel and stopped caring about me.”

“Do you miss having him in your life?”

“I don’t know - he was very controlling. I hated being a
solicitor, but he was so intent on having his son follow in his footsteps that
he wouldn’t listen to me. We’ve never really had much in common besides work
and now that’s gone so…” he shrugs, letting his shoulders drop heavily, as his
sentence trails off unfinished.

“Are happier now though? I can’t really imagine you confined
to desk in an office.”

“I am much happier now. He’ll get over it eventually, or
not… I don’t know; it doesn’t really matter I guess. My mum and step dad are
very supportive, so I can’t really complain.”

A squeal of laughter filters in from the stairwell and we
both turn our heads toward the door, listening to the noise of everyone else
coming home. Bursting through the door, laughing and falling all over each
other, they immediately start babbling on about how much fun they had.

“There she is! The Cock Smasher!” Shane slurs, pointing at
me as the others all burst out laughing, I can’t help but smile along with them
as I watch their faces all screw up with drunken laughter.

“I can’t believe you dropped that guy,” Naomi laughs as they
all gather round the table. There’s a flurry of hands in front of me as the Tim
Tams are snatched up and devoured in seconds.

“God I love these things,” Petra says through the chocolaty
goodness in her mouth. “When I get home I’ll send you some more packets.”

“You’d better,” Brian tells her. “It’s an unwritten law for
a returning Aussie you know.”

“What is?” I ask. “Sending Tim Tams?”

“Hells yeah,” answers Naomi. “Every time one of us goes
home, they have to send back a box full of things we can’t buy here like Tim
Tams, Vegemite, Minties, Milo – stuff like that. Our families send things too
but we kind of do it as a farewell gift for each other.”

“They don’t have Milo here?” I ask surprised. Milo is a
staple in almost every Aussie household.

“No, they drink Ovaltine instead,” Petra puts in.

Brian gets up and starts making coffee for everyone as we
continue talking about the differences between Australia and here, laughing and
joking together as we do. I look around the table, taking in all the smiling
faces and suddenly feel a sense of belonging. I haven’t felt a part of
something in such a long time. Smiling inwardly, I think I’m really going to
like living here.  

Life is starting to feel normal now that I’ve been in London
for a month. Although, it’s kind of funny being the guy with the accent for a
change, to me, it still sounds like everyone else has an accent. 

Coming here seems to be exactly what I needed to start feeling
more like myself again. There’s nothing like having a limited time somewhere to
make you see what’s most important, three months isn’t long in the grand scheme
of things, and you don’t waste any of it, so I’ve been having fun wherever
possible and trying to live each day the best that I can.