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25
Elizabeth
Brenden scoots the tattoo portfolio over so he can look at it with me. “You’re being quiet. Are you mad?”
My body stiffens; he’s too damn close to me. The little interaction outside made my pulse race, and my body is too raw with need. “No. As long as you keep your promise, I’m fine.” I cut my eyes to him. “Do you know what you want to get?”
I’m sure Brenden meant well when he brought me here today. He only wants me to live without regrets. But this is insane. I can’t get a tattoo. Or let him pay for it.
“Yep. What about you?” He smirks, bumping my shoulder with his.
I press my lips and sigh. “I’m not getting one.”
“Right,” he scoffs, “but you said you’ve been thinking about getting one for years. Haven’t you ever thought about what you’d get?”
I shrug and chew on my bottom lip, flipping through all the different images of butterflies, hearts, and flowers. There are cartoon characters, song quotes, and people with matching tattoos. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with any of these. But if you’re going to put something permanently on your body, it should mean something.
“Well, sure, I’ve thought about it. But I never decided on anything. I’d want it to be something meaningful. I mean, it’s forever.”
“Yeah, just don’t go getting someone’s name put on you. Look how badly that turned out for poor Johnny Depp. He’ll be a wino forever.”
I laugh, all the tension melting away. No matter how stressed I’m feeling, he always manages to make me feel so calm. I love that about him.
Wait…love?
The sudden lack of oxygen makes me lightheaded, and I grasp the counter for support.
“What’s wrong? You look like you might be sick all of a sudden.” He leans into my line of sight. “You aren’t afraid of needles, are you?”
“No.” I take a step back from the counter, creating more space between us. “Not that it matters. Since I’m. Not. Getting. A. Tattoo.”
He laughs and positions himself between me and the counter, which puts him far too close to me again. His fingers brush across my cheek and my heart flutters. “You look a little flush. I don’t want you passing out on me back there.”
“What? You want me to—” My raspy words cut off on a question as I point toward the back of the parlor where the rooms are.
“Of course,” he snickers. “What sense does it make to have you with me if you’re waiting out here?”
Tension mounts in my body again as I shake my head, sweat pooling at the small of my back. My mind wanders to the possible body parts he may need to reveal during this process. I’m damn near ready to pass out.
A large, tattooed man with several piercings in his face calls Brenden’s name and he grabs my arm, pulling me along with him.
My heart pounds as we make our way down the narrow hallway, the buzzing sounds from the tattoo guns vibrating through me. We follow the tattooed man to the last door on the right and he introduces himself as Kyle. Brenden shakes his hand before telling him my name. I give him a tight smile and sit in the chair Kyle points to.
I’m vaguely aware of the conversation between them as Brenden begins taking off his shirt, but it’s drowned out by my rapidly beating heart. He pulls it over his head, the muscles in his stomach and back doing a delicious little dance. I’m practically drooling by the time he turns to hand me his shirt, and he gives me a knowing smile.
I continue to stare as he takes his seat in the parlor chair, my eyes intrusively roaming. That’s when I notice them—the scars scattered across his chest. My heart clenches. The marks look serious, as if they could’ve been life threatening.
My eyes instinctively shoot up to meet his. I’m met with a smile, but it’s not his normal charismatic one. There’s something else in his eyes—something I’ve never seen before. Sorrow?
Is this your darkness, Brenden?
A sadness washes over me, my hands shaking as I think of what, or who, could’ve done this to him.
Had he nearly died? The possibility leaves me breathless.
Brenden
“You think you’re better than me, don’t you, you little shit?” my father sneers, stumbling over his feet as I coax him out of the bar. “You’re not better than me. You’re a worthless piece of shit. That’s all you’ve ever been and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
