Junk Miles Read online

  “Take your own advice.” I gathered my carryon, ready to storm away from his idiotic company. “I want nothing to do with you.”

  Just then, I noticed Saxon’s mother standing over us. “Hello, Brenna.” Her face looked ageless and remarkably lovely. She smiled at me like a real-life Renaissance angel. “I’m Lylee, and I’ve heard so much about you from Suzanne.”

  “I’m sorry if my mom was a little crazy,” I apologized. “She doesn’t realize that not everyone on earth wants to talk about me all the time.” I returned her smile, despite the fact that she was Saxon’s mom. Or maybe because of it. There was something undeniably attractive about her.

  “Not at all.” She looked me up and down, and there was naked approval in her black eyes. I was sure of it; I had seen the exact same thing in her son’s eyes often enough. “Everything she tells me meshes with all the things my son has said. And hasn’t said.” She winked at Saxon.

  He rolled his eyes. “Very deep, Mom. How long until we board?”

  “Don’t be a jackass, Saxon,” his mother advised cheerfully. “You’re not seriously going to be upset about a vacation to Europe, are you? I mean, I know teen angst is cool with guys, too, but that would be a little extreme, wouldn’t it? We are, after all, going to Paris. Try to keep that at the forefront of your thoughts, little man.” She made a move to brush that errant piece of hair back, but he ducked her touch.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Saxon ground out.

  “So nice to meet you, Brenna.” She floated back in my mother’s direction.

  “Oh shit.” Saxon let his elbows fall forward onto his knees and hung his head.

  “What?” I felt particularly snarly and nasty.

  “She likes you.” He rubbed his temples like that fact gave him an instant headache.

  “How could you possibly know that? She only talked to me for a few minutes.”

  “I could tell by the way she looked at you.” His voice was so low I could hardly hear it. “She looked at you the way I do. Like she wants to eat you alive.” He slouched back in his seat, a general air of belligerence cocooning him from any more of my questions.

  So Saxon looked at me like he wanted to eat me and was fine admitting it? I wanted to feel offended, but I didn’t. If I was totally honest, I felt completely thrilled by his confession. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have Saxon devour me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, I rubbed my thumb over the ring Jake put on my finger the day before yesterday.

  Jake, back home, tucked safe in Sussex County. Jake, who was planning his future around me and only me. I felt a hot prickle all over my skin, like I wanted to shake off a weight I wasn’t strong enough to carry. One wrong move, one slip-up on my end, and I could ruin Jake’s world. He had so much riding on me, so much he needed my help to figure out, and here I was, flirting with Saxon Maclean while I wore the ring Jake had given me to remind me how much he loved me.

  The ring that said I was his heart. And that I was in charge of guarding it. Oh, Jake, forgive me!

  I tried to focus on the book I was supposed to be reading, but Raskolnikov’s story was just giving me ideas. For example, if I had a hatchet, I might have gone after Saxon’s skull with happy determination. I plowed through the dense mazes of guilt-laden sentences and refused to lift my eyes to see what Saxon was doing. I didn’t care if he looked my way. I didn’t care if he got up and left to hunt perky little Sara Olsen down either. I hoped he did, actually. Paris would be better without him. Much less complicated.

  But my ranting was just that; ranting. Because I realized that Paris was just going to have to be somewhat about Saxon for me. And whether I wanted to feel badly about that or not, it was the truth. I wanted to talk to him. About Jake. About life. About us. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth.

  I wondered what he would say about Jake’s reluctance to go to college or dream bigger. And, at the same time, I wondered what Saxon dreamed about. What did he want, other than life as a demi-god in Sussex County? Had the two of them ever made plans that involved more than a couple of 40s and some hard-partying girls with overheated sex drives?

  They finally called for us to board. Mom and Lylee were bonded at the hip, tittering and giggling like girls. I was glad, because Mom didn’t have many friends, and I felt like it was good for her to have someone to talk to.

  “Brenna,” Lylee said. “You don’t mind if I steal your mom for the ride over do you? I definitely need to brush up on my Impressionists before we hit Paris. Plus that, my son is being a bear, and I have a feeling you’ll be a much better animal tamer than I am.”

  She smiled so beautifully, I found myself nodding before I knew what I was doing. Mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Lylee swept her away before she had a chance. They were seated just in front of Saxon and me.

  It occurred to me that the last place on the earth two people with incredibly intense feelings should be was next to each other on a plane. There was something strangely intimate about the dim, artificially aired cabin. It was like everyone on any plane was part of a big nomad group, traveling together in a precarious metal cylinder and bonded by the innate scariness of the trip.

  “So we’re seat mates?” Saxon grumbled as he sat heavily next to me. I could smell his cologne and the pungent smell of cigarettes on his hair and clothes, and deeper than both of those smells, I could smell the scent that was completely and only Saxon. “Think you can keep your hands off of me?” It was no warning; it was a clear challenge.

  I stuffed my carryon into the overhead with more aggression than was really necessary. “Why don’t you switch with someone else? There have to be some easy, brain-dead girls on this plane.”

  He shrugged. “I like a challenge. Want to meet in the front bathroom after the first lame movie?” He smiled at my growl. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.”

  The stewardesses passed out drinks and went over safety procedures. Saxon shut his eyes and leaned back while they went over proper plane exit procedure for a crash in the open ocean. He opened one eye a slit and looked over at me, sitting upright, listening intently to the directions.

  “If this plane hits open water, we die on impact or freeze to death in the north Atlantic before anyone realizes we’re missing.” He flicked the glossy laminated tri-fold sheet that showed animated people calmly exiting the crashed plane on a slide into the ocean.

  “If you want to nap through the directions, go ahead. What do you care if I pay attention? I didn’t wake you up to listen.” I kept my eyes glued to the brightly-colored animated catastrophe.

  “You seem kind of grumpy. Maybe you should take a nap with me. I’ll try to spoon you.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Can you let me contemplate my possible icy death in peace?” I begged, and a teeny bit of my naked worry seeped out with the words.

  “Are you nervous?” His voice had gone soft. I glanced at him and saw his eyes were warmer. The flecks of gold stood out, the way they did when he was interested.

  “No,” I lied. I partially lied. I wasn’t nearly as nervous about the possibility of death in the cold northern waters as I was about spending almost eight hours practically on Saxon’s lap. “I just like to play out all possible outcomes in my head, even the bad ones. That way I won’t be overwhelmed by shock if the plane does go down, and I’ll be able to concentrate on saving myself.”

  He looked at me for a long time and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “In a ridiculous way, that makes sense.”

  “I know. That’s why I do it.” And I ignored the ludicrous surge of happiness that went through me when I realized that Saxon looked at me with grudging respect. He sat up and watched the rest of the safety presentation.

  “Alright.” He turned to me. “I’ve pictured the whole gory scene. If we go down, I’m ready.”

  “Me too.” I nodded and exhaled the breath I’d been holding in one long stream. “Good luck. In case it all happens.”

  “Good lu
ck to you.” Then he shook his head and laughed to himself.

  “What’s so funny?” I should have backed off, should have let him sit and laugh to himself without digging for information that was sure to disappoint me.

  “I swear to God, I try to hate you, Brenna. I try to wrap my head around any other girl, and trust me, there’s a lot of willing girls. But there’s something about you that I can’t deny. You drive me nuts, but I love it.” He looked at me, and his eyes were warm and crinkled at the corners from a rare, real smile.

  I felt like a hot rash prickled over my skin. “I guess you’re just a glutton for punishment.”

  We sat next to each other in uncertain quiet for a few minutes. The pilot came over the intercom to announce that we would be taking off. I’m generally a good flyer. I’ve never minded flying much, unless we were dealing with some serious turbulence. But takeoff was never really easy. It was just a weird feeling, the hurtling through the air that sucked the breath from my lungs like an elevator rising too fast. Anyway, it was never a time I wanted to get into any deep or serious conversations.

  It was right at the zenith of our ascent when Saxon turned to me again.

  “Bren.” He used my name, which was kind of weird. Usually he kept me at arm’s length and used Blix, an abbreviation for my last name. “We’ve tried hating each other for a few weeks now. I think we really put a good effort into it. And, let’s face it, it’s not working. And I have a feeling you’re not open to experimenting with letting me down your pants.”

  “Saxon, can you wait just a second to have this conversation?” I closed my eyes and leaned back, my hands gripped on the armrests until we were righted. I opened my eyes slowly, then turned to look at him. “So you don’t want to hate me, and you don’t want to piss me off by trying to seduce me?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled a little. “Look, I wasn’t excited to come to Paris until I found out you were going. Then, I have to admit, the whole thing seemed a lot cooler. So let’s call an International Truce, okay?”

  “So we’ll be friends overseas?” I said, loving that we would have our own strange agreement, just between the two of us.

  “That’s it. We’ll be friends, but I won’t put the moves on you. Unless you want me to.” He smiled that wide, wolfy smile that set my heart thumping.

  “No, I don’t want you to,” I said too adamantly. I didn’t want to think about that one too much.

  “Deal, then.” He stuck his big, warm hand out.

  We shook, and if he held my hand a little too long, it wasn’t by much. By now the flight was going smoothly, and Saxon seemed much more relaxed. But, somehow, Saxon relaxed felt more dangerous than angry, on-edge Saxon.

  “So what’s this whole friendship plan have in store for me?” I asked, my suspicions still pretty intense.

  “You don’t trust me,” Saxon announced, his black eyes glinting. “I’m not going to say that I don’t want you, Brenna.” When my name slipped from his lips, it made me shiver. “I do. But if the only way I can have you is by playing the good boy, then I’ll be the best.”

  “I think that’s easier said than done for you.” I could feel the excitement of a challenge radiating off of him.

  “I think it’s going to be harder for you than you think.” He leaned towards my face, and our lips would have touched if we leaned in one more inch.

  “Harder for me to what?” My voice sounded like it strangled to get out of my throat.

  “To keep your hands off of me.” His voice was like a hypnotic purr.

  I rolled my eyes at him and backed away from the heat of his skin. “I have nothing to worry about. You’re so busy being in love with yourself, I don’t know if you could make room for anyone else in that cold little heart.”

  “I’d make room for you.” He ran one finger down my arm, and I jumped at his touch. “Now I’m going to close my eyes and dream all the bad boy things I want to do to you but can‘t. Yet.”

  If it was possible for my skin to catch on fire, it would have at that moment. He looked me up and down, slowly, then shut his eyes, a smug smile on his way-too-attractive face. There was nothing I could say to him. My loss for words was aggravating on so many levels.

  I put my earbuds in, pointedly ignoring the fact that his muscled forearm was lying on the armrest and his hand was draped over it, his fingers inches from me. Even in sleep, I realized Saxon would never touch me. It was all another game.

  I sighed a little. It was already exhausting me to think through his next few moves. But, even as that thought went through my head, my heart thrilled to accept his challenge. I wanted him close, maybe because he was dangerous to me, but maybe for other reasons I wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He definitely ignited something in me. The furious anger we had been lashing at each other was like a summer storm, hugely powerful and almost frightening, but always followed by a refreshing break in the tension. I liked the idea of us as friends. Hating him involved too extreme a feeling. It was too close to the only other thing that I felt so absolutely, which was love. Love for Jake.

  I stared out the tiny window at the blankets of clouds and thought about the fact that Jake had never been on an airplane before. If we wound up traveling to Italy together, I would be with him on his first plane ride. It made me feel good that there were things I would introduce him to. Jake had a pretty wild past with girls, and he had made a name for himself as something of a ladies’ man before we met. Since I had almost no experience, I always felt like the younger, more immature person in our relationship. Even though I had a lot of experience in aspects that Jake knew nothing at all about.

  The last conversation he and I had replayed in my head. I thought about how easily he brushed off the idea of his future being exciting or amazing. Jake was satisfied with things the way they were. Or maybe he was just enjoying what he had? Jake tended to be tight-lipped about what he’d gone through, what he knew about the world in general. I felt like I was always trying to share, trying to make him see things my way, and he was trying to protect me from all the big, bad evils he’d already encountered and dealt with. And, a lot of the time, it was just the two of us butting heads over and over again.

  I was thinking about Jake and all of our crazy issues when my head fell back on the seat, and, as uncomfortable as it was, it was a relief to rest more. The next thing I knew, Saxon was shaking my shoulder to wake me up.

  “Food.” He pressed me back and lowered the tray on the seat in front of me, his arm warm and solid next to my body.

  There were the trays of too tiny foods, all individually wrapped and sealed. I had something like a grilled chicken and vegetables. Saxon got up and flirted with the stewardess for a minute, then came back with a bottled water for me.

  “Can’t have you thirsty.” He eyed my almost empty bottle.

  “Thanks.” I uncapped the bottle and took a long sip. “I could have gotten it myself.”

  “But that’s what friends are for.” Saxon’s sugary sweet voice was offset by his wicked eyes.

  “Thanks,” I repeated.

  “This little tray doesn’t look like enough for you, Blix.” He poked the edge of my tray.

  I felt a little catch of relief that he was using his nickname for me again. It was less intimate, which made it less startling, which made it easier for me to keep up with him and not get lost in his game. “It’s alright. Mom packed me snacks, and I ate a big breakfast.”

  “Oatmeal?” he checked.

  “Yep. Did you get your Cocoa Puffs in?”

  “Nah. I haven’t done anything healthy like eat breakfast in months. I had a cigarette and some TicTacs.” He slid a hand into his pocket and shook the little container of orange candies.

  “Technically, the TicTacs are food, so you did have some breakfast.” I hoped I sounded more heartless than I felt. I wasn’t about to get caught being worried about Saxon’s eating habits, even if my natural inclination was to be worried about him. He was healthy as a horse and more tha
n capable of taking care of himself.

  “That’s my hard-hearted girl.” He tore into his roll. It must have been as stale as mine.

  “You decide what you eat,” I said calmly. “If you don’t want to take care of yourself, that’s fine, but don’t expect my pity over it.”

  “That’s pretty harsh, pal.” His voice was suddenly tight. “I wasn’t asking for your pity, anyway. I just answered your question. The one that you asked.”

  He had a point. “Call it tough love. And from here on out, I’ll make sure I take less interest in you. Shouldn’t be too hard, since that’s kind of what I’ve been doing the last few weeks.”

  And it should have been a zinger. Sure, a slightly mean zinger, but one he would appreciate nonetheless. But something about my words changed from slightly mean to very mean when they hit Saxon’s ears, and the look he gave me was a kind of panicked upset, like he didn’t want to be as affected as he was by them.

  Then it hit me; his hints about rehab, the fights he’d been getting in, the missed school, the self-destructive things he was doing had all started when I’d cut off all contact with him.

  Was I making something out of nothing? I looked at Saxon, but it was as if he’d never heard my last words. He didn’t look upset or happy or otherwise. He was chewing. His face was bland.

  But I sensed that he was hurt. By my not caring. And if my gut was right, and I had a pretty dead-on gut, then he was acting out to get my attention, trying to get me to care about him.

  And I had to know then, because mulling something like that over would give me an ulcer. I chose my words as carefully as I could. “I could care as your friend. About you. If you want.”

  Saxon chewed for so long, I was fairly sure he was going to ignore my words, and I could decide he was basically the same old jerk and get over my strange new guilt.

  “Considering how much you fawn over Jake, I guess it wouldn’t kill you to throw me a crumb now and then,” Saxon said lowly, his mouth thin and bitter.