—eleven—
the sweet escape
ANYONE WHO SAID that being a girl wasn't tough absolutely have zero idea about Paige's daily struggles of being one.
It wasn't just because of the monthly cycle of her menstruation, or how the fact that a woman's body was practically another person's business, or what to look like and how to act.
Even the clothes a woman wear was hard to deal with−most of the time, at least.
So when it was already Friday, twenty-five minutes before five in the afternoon, Paige still hadn't got to pick the right match to her mood which would be appropriate to where she was going.
"Do you, at least, have any idea where you guys are going, though?" Jouwee asked from the screen of her phone, who was currently popping some popcorn into her mouth. Paige dropped her arms down after staring at a little black dress for far too long, before shaking her head defeatedly. Jouwee rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't hurt to ask, you know? But, if he doesn't clue you in, you can always go for a simple dress−but something that could keep you warm, too. It's your safest bet."
"Got it." Paige nodded, then spun on her heels to pull up a dress from the bed. "This?"
Jouwee deadpanned, as she studied the halter dress, with pink sequins all over it. "Simple and warm, fall's almost done, for god's sake. And by the way..." she paused, and scowled when Paige looked at her, "ew. That's the ugliest thing I've seen this whole week."
"You're not helping," said Paige in a straight voice, running an anxious hand through her hair. She'd showered already and she was in her bathrobe, a barely-there makeup done; but time was always changing, and so was everything there was. Time had an uncanny ability to change everything that go against its path.
Including her makeup.
"Actually, I am," Jouwee responded matter-of-factly. "If you hadn't called me, I would never be able to help you choose between the nays and the yays. You know what? I think it's better if you just go for a casual look altogether. I mean, it's debatable. If he's gonna take you out for a dinner reservation, you wouldn't look weird. Or, if he's going to take you somewhere else, that'd be fine, too."
More or less two seconds when Paige had squinted her eyes calculatingly like contemplating the words she'd just said. Then shrugged.
"Yeah, you're right. That actually makes everything so much easier," acquiesced Paige, snatching her phone from resting against a white, dainty vase with three plum tulips−one of the only three things that ornamented her left bedside table, along with a family portrait and a marble clock.
She aimed for her walk-in closet and placed her phone against a shoe, one of several pairs kept into a clinical white shoe organizer. Jouwee was silently watching her every move as if scrutinizing an imminent danger while Paige headed to the opposite shelf in the same color−where an array of clothes were hanging.
Paige's head turned from side to side, carefully scanning appropriate clothes, before letting out a sigh, one of a thousand she'd already made hours ago. "Why is this so hard? I don't have anything to wear!" She threw her hands in frustration.
Jouwee rolled her eyes, crossing her legs atop her desk where her phone was possibly located. "You're such a girl."
Paige turned to glare at her. "Very funny−oop, he sent a message."
See you in thirty? x
Paige let out a strangled cry, not bothering to open the pop-up message and flurried across the room. "I am so dead, Jo. I need you here."
"Hose down your panties, kitten. I got an idea. Do you have a white turtleneck sweater?"
Paige went straight to her phone, her nose almost burying into the screen. "Yes, I have," she replied with so much conviction that Jouwee snorted comically.
"Of course, you have," she said like an afterthought. "Now, go get it−"
"Right."
"−a red midi skirt, even better if it's suede−"
"Got that."
"−brown suede knee-high boots−"
"Hang on!"
"−a long beige coat−"
"Uh, huh. Right, okay. Long beige coat, long beige coat..."
"−and a blush pink beret. There, done. Bonjour, mademoiselle!"
All of the clothing Jouwee had mentioned were slung on her wrist and some on her shoulder, one hand clipping the boots, and set them down on a marble countertop which was also a makeshift storage for her jewelries and bags. Letting out a pant of what appeared to be from a marathon, Paige sat down on the plum plush settee fit for a royalty, situated right next to the counter.
Paige had no exact clue why she hadn't got her mother and grandmother's knack for haute couture. They both had help a stylist and an interior designer to organize her closet but she just couldn't choose her clothing wisely.
"Thanks, Jo," she breathed in a raspy manner. "I've never liked cardio, but thanks."
"It's no problem, you silly," Jouwee said good-naturedly. "Now make him fall in love with you. Bye."
"Wait!" Paige stood up and located her phone, as Jouwee settled for a patient grimace. "Love is such a dangerous word, so be careful there," she warned with a lighthearted chuckle. "Anyway, what about my makeup?"
"Just glide on a red lipstick and keep your lids that way. It's a classic. Anything else, your majesty?"
"No." Paige glowered. "Alright, I'll talk to you soon."
As soon as the call ended, Paige quickly removed her robe and started donning everything. Five minutes later, she studied herself in her life-size mirror and bobbed her head a little bit when she was fairly satisfied at her reflection; another five minutes when she finished putting on her red lipstick and curled her hair in a way that seemed like she didn't put too much effort.
"Okay," she whispered to herself, her clammy hands rubbing against her legs. She was nervous, suffice to say. After all, it was their first official date and she'd wanted to let him see that he was important. That he had a significant influence on what or how she'd think now because he mattered. "You're doing great so far."
"Paige?"
She jumped at the sudden voice piercing through the air, and found Aoife with a twinkle in her eye as she regarded her from head to toe.
"You look so pretty!" she gushed loudly, scampering towards her.
Paige tugged a soft smile, a hint of shyness crossing her face. "Thank you, Aoife. Do you need something?"
"Oh, right," she uttered, shaking her blonde head as if to reclaim her sanity. "He's waiting for you outback. The closest gate from the mansion is the one at the back and security's not tight. I already filled Brand in so you can sneak out there."
Paige nodded, a grateful smile on her face as she swept her wavy brown locks towards her back. "Thank you so much, Aoife. Couldn't do this without you. You know how they'd react. Especially grandma. They're too protective of me. I promise I won't be long."
Aoife nodded reassuringly, her eyes boring into Paige's. They were almost equally tall but Paige had a little more advantage to it. "Just be here before eleven, alright? I don't want you to get in trouble."
Paige waved her off. "I don't want you to get in trouble. And I assure you he'll bring me back here by ten."
"Okay, you ready?"
Paige murmured a positive response and before long, they were already hurrying towards the said barrier although in the most stealthy way possible. There were a couple of guards around the mansion, but almost all of them were scattered out the circular driveway−from the entrance gate, to the fountain, and right by the porch.
The security had always been tight. But they'd missed one thing.
Brand, the only guard at the time, was standing by the guardhouse, his eyes scanning around as he hastily flipped the sky-high iron gates open just a tiny bit, cautious not to catch attention from the other guards. Aoife nodded at the forty-year old man politely as she led Paige to the other side.
There were currently only forty-two families around the property, all coming from different upper-level backgrounds in the society. The neighbors, Paige thought, were strategically placed because−well, she didn't really want other people to see the only daughter of The Cadwyns, sneaking off to go out with her boyfriend.
The only thing that served as their light were the ones pushed up against every brick posts that were attached to the iron bars and around the walls.
Aoife tugged Paige's hand and aimed to somewhere not even five meters off the entree. Paige's heartbeat quickened in equal parts of nervousness and excitement as this was the first time she'd actually gone out of the mansion without her parent's permission.
Her vision readjusted at the horizon as she let Aoife lead the way and soon realized that a vehicle was lurking below the shadows of the trees from inside the property; even the car itself had its engine turned off to prevent the interest of passersby.
Arthur soon got out and, even if she couldn't see his face clearly−only the harsh traces of the shadow running down the ridge of his jaw and the other side of his face, Paige could somewhat make out the beguiled smirk that curled up his lips.
"You made it," he said in a breathy manner that Paige would never want to unhear.
A chuckle escaped her lips, then turned to Aoife, who had an unreadable expression on her face. "Thank you, Aoife. I will never forget this. You should head back inside before anyone gets suspicious."
She was still for a moment; only shooting Arthur a stare. "Alright," she breathed, at last. "Stay safe, you two. You−" she turned to him again, "you need to bring her back by ten. Sharp. And don't do anything stupid. Else, I will kick you to where the sun doesn't shine."
Paige widened her eyes for more or less three seconds, her eyes shifting back and forth to the two. Not that she was degrading Aoife whatsoever, but it was foreign for her to imagine that a dashing man like Arthur, with the magnanimity of his reputation, was being chewed out that way. But her breathing returned to normal when Arthur simply let out an inaudible chuckle.
"Aye, Captain."
Before Aoife had left, the two girls hugged tightly and Arthur could only pull up an entertained smirk as if she'd run away with him and they'd never look back ever.
Soon, when Paige neared behind Arthur and saw the vehicle that was parked inches off, a frown had slipped down her face. "Wait, this is yours?"
Arthur scratched the side of his head as he spun his heel back to her. It was a beat-up truck in the color of the night, the chipped paint spotting faded white patterns strewn everywhere like stars nicking out of the night sky.
"Um," he cleared his throat, and even if it was dim out, she could faintly as heat colored his cheeks in faint embarrassment, "I hope this is okay? My car's at the repair shop. It's been pretty worked over. A friend had borrowed it and, uh, yeah−so..."
"No! Of course, it's okay," said Paige in an odd manner, but not in a bad kind of way. In fact, she was quite thrilled to try it out. She grinned at him, slipping her fingers into his and she hadn't missed the way he'd gulped some air at the faintest touch. It was like he'd been holding for so long but could never get used to it. "I don't mind at all. It is my first time so I find this interesting."
Slowly, Arthur's mouth shaped into an upturned waning moon and he tightened his fingers around hers.
"Where have you been, Paige?"
Paige's smile didn't fade, but her eyebrows weren't the most pleasing match to it. "What d'you mean?"
He made two steps back, his hand still linked to hers so that he could run his eyes over her to check how she looked tonight. She anxiously rubbed her knees together under his intent gaze.
Giving a good impression to anyone, especially men, wasn't actually in Paige's vocabulary. She'd like to think that, more often than not, she looked okay−but okay wasn't the right word tonight. What with how handsome he appeared to be in his all-black pants and shirt, a brown coat that ran down to his thighs, she had wished she'd made it up to par.
"You look beautiful," he said, almost a whisper amidst the comforting silence, and a ghost of his smile broke through the shadow of his face.
Simple three words and Paige was already out of breath. She had wanted to say anything, anything, that wouldn't make her seem like a half-wit who couldn't get any word out.
But how could she explain something that couldn't be describe with words?
How would she explain the feeling of seeing the beauty of the sun when she wakes up first thing in the morning? How could she justify the moment of being curled up into someone's arms while it was raining on a cold Sunday night?
She had wanted to say something but, ultimately, decided not to. Words, she thought, are somehow a form of disservice. Sometimes, all you have to do is just smile and let yourself sink into that profound sense of clarity. That the beauty of something and how it makes you feel can't exactly be written to paper.
And so she leveled her gaze through his and bit her lip, not to stop the tremor inside her, but to somehow clamp the urge to giggle. The street was so silent that if she'd drop a coin, everyone in the neighborhood would probably hear it.
"What?" Arthur smirked. "Cat got your tongue?"
Paige silently chuckled, at last, burying herself further down her coat like a turtle pushing itself back into its home.
Arthur, always the smooth trickster, tugged her beret down until it was covering half of her face. Paige whacked his arm after she'd righted it atop her head, sobering up at the funny swell inside her chest when he'd suddenly kissed her cheek.
Oh, she could only attempt a scowl at him.
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Minutes later after Paige's seat tipped over−because of how unreliable the truck was−and a disconcerted apology with a sheepish smile on Arthur's face, they were finally pulling out of the community and into a crossroad, one which led them to a reclusive path.
Arthur's hand shot out to reach for the radio, his eyes lighting up from the music that rocked through the speakers. Paige was then staring out of her window, her eyes tracing the remnants of the rain that stripped down the glass, as the fog blurred the landscape outside. But when she'd recognized the song blaring through the speakers, she snapped her attention to Arthur.
"I heard that song once!" she gushed, a gleam of mirth in her eyes. "What's the title?"
Arthur fractionally peeled his eyes off the road, shooting a pleasant smirk her way. "It's All Good by Dave Thomas Junior. I understand why you don't know the title. He's pretty underrated. I can send you a link, though."
"Sure! I would love that." Paige's head bobbed to the tune as an absentminded smile bloomed on her face. "It's so good, people should listen more to something like this, you know?"
Arthur couldn't help but tear his eyes away from the road again just to look at his girlfriend. Her ex, Lola, couldn't really wrap her head around his choices when it came down to music. She was more into upbeat songs, the ones you hear from parties, and he was more of a mellow guy. Songs like these somehow cured the frayed edges of his soul, which something Lola didn't really understand.
She never tried.
He was pleasantly surprised to know Paige wasn't the kind of girl who'd roll her eyes at him and attempt to change the radio station, in hopes of shoving the drama aside. It caused a strange stir inside his chest and he immediately looked away.
"Are you hungry?" Arthur's voice was subtle and he'd hoped Paige wouldn't notice why his mood was off all of a sudden. "I brought some snacks, just in case. It'll take us half an hour before we arrive."
Paige turned to him, as he blindly reached for the pack of biscuits from the backseat and revealed it to her.
"You brought some biscuits?" she asked, eyes crinkling at the corners.
She almost laughed−if biting her lip was any indication−at the rising color on his cheeks and he threw the snack back to the seat as if he never wanted to see it in the first place.
Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, um, I was thinking that maybe you want to eat something for the rest of the drive. They're digestive biscuits; pretty cheap, to be honest. But my mom used to buy it for me when I was young so it's a favorite. I understand if you don't like to, I mean, they're of low-quality−"
"I want to eat."
Arthur blinked. "Oh."
Heaving a smile, Paige happily snatched the biscuits from the backseat and started unpacking one. "Oh, wow," she uttered with a nod, gazing at the round, cream-colored food that was clipped between her fingers. "Not bad."
Relieved and quite surprised, Arthur's chagrin turned to an amused one. "Really?"
"Yeah." Paige shrugged, as she took one bite again. "I mean, there's always a first to everything. I've never tried this before but it's good."
Arthur's insides were swarmed with something buttery and he wasn't able to stop himself from grinning, unbeknownst to the elated snacker. "I'm glad you liked it. You're not saying that just to humor me, yeah?"
As if insulted, Paige squinted her eyes at him. "You think so highly of me, sir. I am truly offended." Arthur let out a small chuckle, just as Paige rested a hand against her chest to emphasize her statement. "I'm just genuinely surprised that you don't have to spend too much to eat good food, you know?"
"I agree," replied Arthur, swiveling the wheel to a route that was lined with lampposts, the only thing his eyes could make out amidst the hectares and hectares of fields. "But that's not what really matters, though."
"Then−what is?"
"People you're eating with," he said casually, but he wasn't sure if Paige hadn't missed the catch in his voice. His arm that was resting against the window before had now made its way towards the steering wheel, before his knuckles protruded on the skin around them.
If there was one private thing Paige had known about him now was that his mother left them when he was still young. And even if she hadn't got any idea further than that, she attempted to soothe him by latching her fingers around his forearm. It was so subtle, Arthur almost couldn't feel it.
Paige stayed silent and it was okay, Arthur thought. It was enough that she was right there beside him.
"Eating crap or even if you're in the finest restaurant...doesn't really count much if something's missing," he continued in a vague manner, but he was sure Paige knew what he was talking about. A chuckle attempted to escape out of his mouth, but it came out as an awkward rumble instead. "Sorry. I don't mean to make this ride sound so boring. I swear, this weather makes me so hammy−"
Paige's nudge effectively cut him off. Only then she spoke when his eyes swept through hers then back to the road. "It's alright; I want to know you. All of you. If only you'd let me, Art."
Arthur had to suppress a sigh at that and simply gave her a tight smile. He'd appreciate the concern but that was the problem−the last thing he wanted was for her to be too close. Dangerously close. He genuinely, sincerely liked her but Aoife's words kept replaying in his thoughts.
She's one of the kindest girls I know; she doesn't deserve any of your bullshit.
He'd decided to take her out on a date because, well, he'd wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. It was too early; it wouldn't hurt her so much.
At least he thought it'd be easy to do so.
He mentally shook his head then reached for Paige so that his free hand was now molding against her nape, her hair a cushioned shape of the bowl of his palm. Paige frowned at him like a blubbering baby when he playfully tugged her beret down again.
"Hey!" she exclaimed with a laugh, before putting her beret back to place.
Arthur chuckled, then he curled his lips into a soft smile, memorizing the way her nose turned red because of the chilly weather. As his eyes shifted back to the road, he blindly slid his hand down to her arm, then to her hands−smirking when he'd learned her palm was open.
And they held hands as if she was the missing piece to his puzzle.
"Paige Cadwyn, you're going to have the best night of your life," he said softly.