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“No, but I wish. It would’ve saved me some trouble. My friends were the artists, musicians, and passionate thinkers.”
“So…the stoners?” I joke.
“Basically, yeah,” she says, chuckling. “I wasn’t though. Being a smart loner probably would’ve suited me better. They were wild, and I like structure and rules. The partying lifestyle wasn’t for me.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean, you did make up rules for our friendship.” A silence follows her sigh and I begin to worry she’s upset by my comment.
“Yes, well, rules protect us and set boundaries. I don’t see anything wrong with finding comfort in that.” Her flat tone confirms I’ve unintentionally hit a nerve.
“Nothing wrong with it, but sometimes coloring outside the lines and stepping out of your comfort zone can be a good thing. I’m not talking about breaking laws or anything crazy, but sometimes people place unspoken rules and restrictions on themselves and others. They care too much about what other people might think and let societal expectations hold them back.”
“Those societal rules can be a good thing too,” she argues. “Otherwise, we might see people walking around in public dressed in their S&M gear.”
“I saw someone like that in Walmart once,” I tell her and she laughs at my joke, easing the tension in my muscles. “All right, it’s your turn to answer a question. What’s something you want to do but haven’t because you’re concerned what other people might say or think? Be completely honest now.”
She hums in consideration. “Okay, fine. If I’m being completely honest, I guess I’d say getting a tattoo.”
I like her answer, a lot, but it seems like such a little thing. “What’s holding you back?” I ask, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t get one if it’s what she wants.
“I don’t know,” she huffs. “I guess the fact that I’m a thirty-year-old mother of two? It doesn’t seem like an appropriate thing to do—not a good example and all that jazz.”
“And all that jazz?” I tease, laughing. It seems very fitting for her; a very Lizzy thing to say. “So showing your kids it’s okay to be who you want to be and do what you want to do isn’t a good example?”
“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid,” she sulks, humor in her tone. “It’s just, I’m a lot younger than most of the moms I know. They treat me like a stupid kid as it is. I’m always trying to prove myself. Lord knows I don’t need to give them any more ammo.”
The thought of anyone making her feel bad about herself causes an unexpected volcano of rage in my gut. “You should never let someone make you feel that way. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself,” I grit out, hoping she doesn’t think my sharp tone is directed at her.
I roll my shoulders and stretch my limbs to release my tension before continuing in a softer manner. “What kept you from getting one before you had kids?”
“I don’t know. Fear, I guess. It’s a very permanent commitment, and I never enter into my commitments lightly.” She lets out a huffed chuckle. “Besides, Xander always said it wasn’t really me, and I think maybe he was right.”
Xander? Her husband kept her from being the person she wanted to be and doing the things she wanted to do? What the fuck?
“I see,” I say. “Well, I agree your skin is a masterpiece all on its own. But if it’s not you who wants the tattoo, who is it?”
“The crazy person living in my head?” she offers, laughing at her own joke.
“Or maybe it’s the real you wanting to come out and play. I say let her out. Have some fun. Experience new things and places. Time waits for no one. You have to seize it while you can or live with regrets.”
“I wish I could think more like you, Brenden. I really do.” She groans.
“Who says you can’t? Tell me…what are some other things you want to do or see, but haven’t? What’s on your bucket list?”
“My bucket list…let’s see. I want to be fluent in another language.”
“Te puedo ayudar con eso,” I reply, sounding a little too cocky. “Really, though. I could teach you, if you want. That’d be one item off your list. What else?”
“Such a showoff,” she teases. “I want to travel the world. Are you going to volunteer to take care of that for me too?”
“If it means I get to see the world with you, abso-freaking-lutely.”
I’d hop on a plane with her tomorrow if I could.
“You’re crazy,” she says dismissively, brushing off my comment. “What about you, Mr. Seize the Day? Anything left on your bucket list?”
“Nope. I don’t have one. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still plenty out there for me to do and see, but I don’t hold back or wait when I find those things. A bucket list can end up being a list of regrets.”
“So, you’re saying you have no regrets?” she scoffs. “There isn’t anything in your life you wish could do differently? It isn’t lacking in any way? You, Brenden Scott, are completely and totally happy and satisfied in all aspects of your life?”
