Hello, Goodbye

19: Saxon

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She stares at him, confused. “I like you,” he repeats, sheepish. He knows he sounds stupid, like a little school boy talking to his first crush. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up and making her smile.

“That’s sweet,” she says, her voice quiet. He remembers two nights before, their lips locked after moments of sitting, facing each other, in the same place they now sit. He feels the presence of his family outside of his closed door. They don’t interrupt, and won’t, he hopes. He’s not meant to have his door closed but no one had opened it.

“Sweet?” he replies, tensing and moving away from her slightly. She sighs.

“I like you too, Saxon. But I can’t help think that you’ll just leave me for someone like Greta – someone perfect. Absolutely flawless. You could have anyone in the world, Saxon. How could you like me when you could like someone else who is the definition of perfect?” she says shyly.

“I like girls with imperfections,” he replies. “Perfection isn’t something to strive for, Grace. It isn’t achievable. Though Greta may be perfect on the outside, she isn’t on the inside. I know to society you’re not perfect on the outside, and maybe even to yourself, but to me?” He pushes himself closer to her. “You’re perfect inside and out.”

“You just said that perfection isn’t achievable.” He shakes his head, still staring at her, straight into her beautiful eyes. He wants to break down the barriers she’s put up. He wants to comfort her and tell her that the past is in the past and the people who have hurt her are stupid and should be forgotten.

“Society’s perfection isn’t achievable. My idea of perfection is sitting right in front of me.” She stares at him, blankly, for the short moment before he presses his lips gently against hers. She smiles against his lips and deepens the kiss. He remembers staring at her constantly, wanting what he has now – Grace’s lips against his.

Her hands are pressed, palms down, against his chest, her legs crossed between the two of their bodies. His hands are gently holding her waist. She pulls her lips away but they stay in that position, so close, breathing the air the other breathes out. “My brother ran away,” she whispers.

 “Oh, Grace,” he breathes. He pulls her body into his in an embrace and he forgets about her knees digging into him as he holds her tightly. Her legs slide away from beneath him and she folds into him. She pulls away after a moment, shaking her head. “Grace, look at me.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Just look at me,” he whispers.

She stares up at him, eyes clouded with tears. A tear runs down her cheek and he rubs it away with his thumb, holding her head in his hands. “What if he’s not okay? No one can find him, Saxon.” He pulls her closer to him by wrapping an arm around her waist and sliding her around until their hips are touching. He still has his hand around her waist as she rests her head on his shoulder, eyes red.

“We can look for him, okay?” She lifts her head up to look at him and he offers her a smile of reassurance.

“You would do that for me? For him?” He nods, though he knows he isn’t doing this for Anthony. Just for Grace, so she doesn’t have to lose someone else she loves.

“Of course I would.” She rests her head back down on his shoulder gently.

“You know, Saxon, I hope that my brother was wrong about you.” He pulls her closer to him, feeling the warmth of her body. “Because I trust you right now, in a way unlike I have trusted anyone else.” They sit in this position for a while, a silence hovering over them, but not awkwardly.