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“I don't want you to get anything related to me, Gabe. Jeesh. Tattoos are supposed to mean something to whoever gets it. All you would have to do is think of something that is so important to you that you want it to decorate your body.”
“Are you saying my body needs to improve?” He smirks.
“Are you avoiding my question?”
“Roll back over, Ryan. I wasn't done.”
I laugh at his disregard for my question, but I do as he wants. “There's more than those two, you know that, right?”
“Yes.” He kisses the center of my back, his fingers moving over my skin once more. This time, he's touching the pink seahorse. Gabe adds, “But these are my favorite. Tell me why you got them.”
For a moment, I hesitate. This is Gabe, though, and I trust him. I go over in my head what I want I want to say, trying to find words to fit what these tattoos mean to me. Memories swirl around me from the images inked onto my body. Feeling ready, I begin to tell Gabe the story behind each of them.
“They are all related to my grandmother, now that I really think about it. She was the only grandparent I'd ever known, and she was an amazing person. When I was little, she was the one to teach me how to make wishes on dandelions, and I loved it. She used to tell me that after I made the wish, the seeds blew away so my wish could be granted. I'll still do it if I see one.
“My grandmother took me to the aquarium once. I thought the seahorses looked a little odd compared to most of the other fish we saw. They were beautiful, though. Just different. When I told her, she laughed. I'll never forget what she said either. She told me that it's the differences between all life that makes it beautiful.
“And the hummingbird is in memory of her. She died when I was eleven and absolutely loved hummingbirds. She had little figurines and paintings all over her house, and a bunch of hummingbird feeders outside. That was my very first one. As you've seen, they piss my parents off, so that's a bonus.”
And then reality comes crashing back down. His father hates me, and Gabe had to witness a public shaming by my mother. My mother who doesn't have a clue that my hummingbird is because of her mom, my grandmother. She doesn't know that they are all tied to my grandmother, but she should have at least known about the hummingbird. That should have been obvious. What she said about my tats today is probably why Gabe asked in the first place. I bury my face into the pillow, feeling Gabe shift next to me.
“Hey,” he starts quietly, pulling some of my hair away in an attempt to see me. “Remember what I said. Ignore them.”
I turn my head so only one eye is looking at him. He's so sweet.
“C'mon. You can help me make supper.” Gabe kisses my temple, his beard scratching my skin, before getting out of bed. I roll over and watch his bare ass walk across the room to his dresser. He's too yummy with those strong legs, bubble butt, and broad, muscular back. Gabe's body is too perfect. A tattoo would tarnish it, I decide.
“You didn't say I would have to help,” I tease.
He glances over his shoulder as he steps into a pair of gray pajama pants. “Did I forget to mention that part?”
“Yes, you did.” I toss the sheets aside and walk over to where my bag is still hanging on the door. I can feel Gabe watching me, so I add, “Don't get distracted again, Officer. I'm starving.”
He chuckles behind me. As I'm pulling out my pjs, he slaps me hard on the ass and then whispers huskily in my ear, “I won't. Hurry up.” Then he walks passed me and down the hall like nothing just happened.
I shake my head and get dressed in a black and white striped cami with matching shorts. I pick our wet clothes up off the floor.
“Gabe?” I call out. “Does this door by the other bedroom lead to the washer and dryer? I'm going to toss our clothes in there.”
“Yeah, but just put them in the hamper. I've got to wash clothes and I'll throw those in there too.” He pauses, and as I open the door to do as he said, I hear, “By the time you get in here, I'll be halfway done.”
“Shut up,” I laugh. Once I toss the clothes into the hamper, I go into the kitchen. The rain has calmed down outside, but it's still coming down. Streaks of lightning can be seen from his kitchen window. Gabe is standing in front of his fridge with the door open. “What are we having anyway?”
“Well, let's see. You can get a salad going, and I'll start the pork chops.” Gabe starts pulling things out of the fridge, and I take them from him, setting them on the counter.
“Sounds good. What else are we having with the pork chops?”
“How about...” He closes the fridge and walks over to his pantry, opening it up. “Mashed potatoes?” Gabe glances at me, and I nod.
We get things underway, him at the stove and me close to the sink, putting a salad together. I cut my eyes over at him, feeling a little odd to be in his kitchen, helping with supper. It's such a relaxed, couple type thing to do.
Tentatively, I ask, “Gabe?”
“Yeah?” He answers without looking at me.
I don't know why I'm thinking this, but I am. It's something I want to know, and I don't want a repeat. Of course, my big mouth is going to ask him anyway. “You do realize what just happened, right? You're not going to freak and kick me out halfway through our meal?”
He spins to face me. “What? Ryan, no. I-”
