by JA Huss
When he walks his clients up to the front for payment, he lingers for a few seconds even though the waiting room tonight is packed with hopeful walk-ins. He leans against the glass counter and watches me ring them up. He explains aftercare instructions—not in back, like usual, but at the counter. Like he’s trying to find excuses to spend a few extra moments with me.
And even though I don’t want to feel giddy over this possibility, I feel giddy. My stomach actually has butterflies when I know his session is coming to an end. I anticipate his arrival from the hallway.
Thankfully, I don’t have much of a chance to think about this over the course of the evening because all the boys are booked solid from the walk-in appointments. But eventually two AM rolls around and even though we hardly ever close on time because you can’t really rush a tattoo appointment and the boys don’t like to split walk-ins into two sessions if they can help it, this night is different. I find myself with a long stretch of minutes where there is no one waiting for an appointment and Vann is the only brother left with a client.
Vinn and Vonn leave by the front door, flipping the closed sign over as they go through. And then Vic pokes his head up and says goodbye, leaving through the back.
This is when I start chewing on my nails. I’m not a nail-biter so it’s a true sign of anxiety.
What will happen now?
I mean, Vann pretty much spelled it out before work. He said, “You’re coming home with me.”
But what does that mean?
I literally live on his property. So does it mean he’s giving me a ride home? Does it mean he’s coming up to my place? Does it mean he’s taking me up to his bedroom? What? What does it mean?
“OK, Robbie,” Vann says, coming around the hallway with his last client. “You’re all set, man.”
I glance up and once again find Vann’s eyes locked on mine as these words come out. He gives me the invoice and chats up Robbie about aftercare, and then slaps the counter twice and says, “I’ll be right back, Belinda. Don’t go anywhere,” and leaves to clean up his room and put shit away.
I ring up Robbie, make polite chit-chat until he leaves, and then start totaling up the receipts for the night. There isn’t much cash. Everyone pays digitally these days. So I just put the cash in the safe in the back room and then linger there, listening as Vann wipes down his studio.
He comes out, looks at me. Smiles. Then enters the breakroom with me.
I don’t know what I expect. For him to kiss me? Push me backwards and fuck me on the table? Lean into my ear and whisper dirty things? I don’t know.
But all he does is flip off the music and lock the back door. Then he turns to me. “You ready?”
“For what?” I say.
He laughs. “To go home?”
“Right. Yup. Let’s go home.”
He flips off the lights and for a moment I’m stunned by the near-total darkness all around me. Then suddenly he’s next to me, reaching for my hand and pulling me down the hallway that is only lit up by the pink neon that filters through the blacked-out windows from the sign over the door.
His keys jingle in his hand as he opens the door, pulls me through, and then turns to lock it up. He still has my hand.
This is really happening. Vann Vaughn and I are… in a thing.
At least for tonight.
He turns to me and grins. And wow. I might’ve taken that grin for granted over the past several years. He lights up the night with that smile. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I take a breath and let it out. “I think so. But… what am I getting ready for?”
His only answer is a soft chuckle. He takes me over to his bike, unhooks the helmets, and we put them on. It’s chilly out. Probably a little too cold to be riding. But home is very close and when I get on behind him and wrap my arms around his middle, he’s luxuriously warm.
I lean my face into his back, my head pressed against the leather of his jacket. He kicks the engine and slowly backs up, the roar of his bike filling the relative quiet of downtown. There are only a few people about, but every single one of them turns to look at us as we head towards Mountain Avenue and then make a right.
My stomach flutters again. Because I am literally two minutes away from what comes next and I don’t have any idea of what that might be.
Well. Come on now, Belinda. You know what that means. We are going to have sex. The hand-holding is over. The first kiss is over. And if I’m being honest, if we don’t have sex, I’ll probably be disappointed.
What if he wants to take it slow?
I don’t think I can do slow. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened today.
Which is… weird. Since this morning I had absolutely no plans on fucking this man and now it’s all I can think about.
Yes. I might not have realized that’s what I was obsessing over this whole night at work, but that’s what I was obsessing over.
And I’m nervous.
When was the last time I was nervous about being with a man?
I was never nervous with Tony. With Tony, I was always angry. It was a totally different kind of heat. Not a pleasant one, either. Even when I look back on the few good times, I don’t get a sense of longing or nostalgia.
My feelings for Vann are nothing like my feelings for Tony and that is a very good way to start a new thing.
Too soon we are pulling into the driveway. Vann parks his bike at the side of the garage closest to the house and we get off. I take my helmet and just kinda stand there, unsure what to do next.
“Now what?” I say, looking up at him.
He takes my helmet from me with one hand and laces the fingertips of his other one into mine. Then we’re walking towards his porch.
He says nothing. He doesn’t pause to ask me if I want to come inside when we get to the front door, just maneuvers the handle with his arm, opens the door, and walks me inside.
He kicks the door closed with his foot, drops the helmets onto a bench where half a dozen other helmets live, and then we’re walking towards the expansive staircase that leads upstairs.
I have been inside the Vaughn mansion many times. I have been in the front room, I have used the bathroom, I have eaten in the dining room, and I’ve probably hung out in the kitchen with them hundreds of times.
But I have never been upstairs.
Crossing the front room takes a few moments because it’s large. Larger than the family room on the east side of the house or the formal living room on the west side, behind the staircase. And it doubles as a dining room, so we have to weave our way around the immense table. And that means I have time to wonder if I’m doing the right thing.
But those moments pass without me actually coming to any sort of conclusion and then we’re climbing the old, wooden stairs, him one step ahead of me, our footsteps creaking loudly. Loud enough that I worry one of the other Vaughn men will hear us and create an awkward moment filled with questions I have no answers for.
But then Vann looks over his shoulder at me and grins. “You’re nervous.”
“No,” I lie.
“You lie, Belinda Baker. I know you’re nervous because I’m nervous too.”
“Why are you nervous?” I whisper. “This was your idea.”
He stops at the top of the stairs and turns to look at me. “Because I like you. You know this. I have liked you since I first saw you eight years ago.”
I huff at that. Eight years ago he was in high school. I was only twenty-one, but still. He didn’t have a chance in hell of dating me. You don’t date a high-school boy when you’re twenty-one, no matter how cute and charming he is.
“And I don’t want to fuck it up by going too fast, but…” He pauses. “I’m willing to risk it at this point. Because it took me eight years to make you see me, Belinda. And if you change your mind tomorrow, there’s not much I can do about that. It’s your mind and your decision. So if, tonight, you’re gonna let me take you upstairs and show you what you’re missing, I
’m gonna do that.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Or say no.” He shrugs. “Or say nothing.”
We stare at each other for a moment. And then he turns and leads me around the stairs to another flight of steps I didn’t even realize existed.
I guess I knew there was a third floor. I can see the windows from outside. But it never occurred to me that he lived up here.
He doesn’t stop at the door. Just pushes it open and I follow him into the darkness.
He lets go of my hand and for a moment I feel adrift in the blackness. Then a small light clicks on in the corner and the room appears before me.
Never mind the room. Vann appears before me.
I catch him in the act of taking off his shirt. He lifts it over his head and I find his eyes locked on mine as he drops it to the floor where his leather jacket already lies in a heap.
His fingers drop to his belt and before I can even make sense of the fact that things have started, he’s got it undone. He pauses here just for a moment to search my eyes. Maybe looking for hints that I want him to stop. That I might turn around and walk out.
But I don’t. I unzip my jacket and let it slip down my arms. Starting my own heap of clothing at my feet.
He grins and his blue eyes shine with mischief. “Yes?” he says.
“Yeah,” I reply.
He shoots me a lopsided grin. “You’re sure? Because once you get a taste of this”—he pans his hand down his body—“I’m gonna ruin you for other men.”
I grin back at him. Allow his joking to ease my anxiety. “I’ll take my chances.”
And then he’s across the room, his hands on my hips, tugging on my belt loops and pulling me over to his bed. He sits down on the mattress and slides his hands around to my ass, giving each cheek a squeeze as his teeth drag my shirt up, exposing the bare skin of my stomach. He kisses me, tugging me towards him, and an ache begins to build between my legs.
My hands drop to his head as I close my eyes and let the warmth of his breath wash over me. I grip his hair and he lets go of my ass and pops the button on my jeans, tugging them down enough to expose the top of my hip bones.
Then he stops and I open my eyes to find him looking up at me. Not smiling. No readable expression at all. Just… staring at me.
I get it though. And my hands drop down to his and I help him by sliding my pants down a little further.
His thumbs push my shirt up and I reach for it, tugging it over my head. I throw it to the side and stand there in front of him in my bra. He reaches for my breasts, squeezing them through the lace.
Then he’s kissing his way up my stomach and I feel my knees become weak and the muscles in my legs tremble with anticipation.
I bite my lip, trying to picture what comes next, and then pushing any and all expectations out of my mind so I can just relish what’s happening.
I don’t know how we got here. But I’m suddenly glad we’ve finally arrived.
This is our night.
And just as I think that his thumb is playing with my pussy through my jeans.
The building ache instantly changes to an insistent tingle. And then his kisses drop down again until I can feel his lips through the very top of my silky panties.
My hands find their way to the curve of his hard shoulders and my eyes follow my fingertips. Taking notice of the thick, dark double X’s inked there. There is a circle of words around each double X. He has this design on the top of both shoulders and I’ve seen them hundreds of times, but have never been close enough to read the intricate calligraphy.
I bend down a little to see it better.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to read the circle words.” He grins at me when my eyes slide to the left. “The letters are really small and these giant X’s never made sense to me. What are they?”
“Well.” He sighs. Then turns his head to look down at his shoulder. “They mark the spot. Like a treasure map. X is also number ten. So two of them are double. It’s the unknown number in an equation and they signify a cross in religion. But mine are just kisses.”
I smile and then giggle. “Like XOXO. That’s it? Kisses?”
He shrugs. “That’s it. Just kisses. But the cool part is the circle quote around the X’s.”
I expect him to keep going but he falls silent. “Well? Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to hunt down a magnifying glass and read them myself?”
“It’s a snippet of a poem by John Keats.”
My eyebrows lift up in surprise.
“I’m a romantic, Belinda Baker. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“Just tell me what they say.”
“They both say the same thing. ‘And now a soft kiss—Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.’”
“Endless. Bliss. That’s your promise?”
He looks up at me with straight lips and a serious face. “Not just one promise. Two. Double X’s, remember?”
“Four then. A quadruple promise because you’ve got two on each side.”
“And four makes a box,” he says, his lips lifting up into a smirky smile. “Surrounded by kisses on all sides.”
I pause here and give myself a moment to take it all in. “For a handful of X’s and some too-tiny words, that’s kinda deep, Vann.”
“It kinda is.”
I look at all the other words on his body. I never thought much about them, but now… I guess I see them in a new light. “Are they all deep and poetic like that?”
“No. There’s a grocery list here.” He twists and points at the words inked down his right ribcage. “Milk. Eggs. Cheese—”
“What the—”
“My grandpa did that on my twenty-first birthday after I passed out drunk.” Vann shakes his head. “For an old dude, he’s kind of incorrigible. No wonder this town thinks we’re crazy.”
I laugh, picturing this.
“So then”—he twists again and points to his left ribcage—“I started another list on this side with the names of Ronnie’s little girls.” He shrugs. “I’m into symmetry.”
But that’s when I notice the new tattoo on the inside of his arm. The one he was inking yesterday after our fight.
The clear bandage has been removed but it’s still shiny with this morning’s application of antibacterial ointment. I reach for his arm and turn it a little, so I can read the words. “‘Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength. But loving someone deeply gives you courage.’”
When I stop reading, I realize he’s gone perfectly still. He tilts his head up at me, blue eyes searching mine.
“You inked this yesterday.”
He nods.
“After our fight.”
He makes a little motion with his head. A very small shrug. “I don’t know why I love you, Belinda. I just do. I dropped you off yesterday because I was angry that you were being honest. You have always been honest about it. You have never led me on.”
“Vann—”
“No. Just listen. I love you. It’s not the kind of love that comes and goes. It’s not lust, either. We can stop right here, and you can go home alone, and I’ll be fine. You can make me wait another eight years for another chance, and I’ll be fine. This love I have for you… it’s the kind that lasts through things. Past thing. Into new things.” He shrugs again, presses his lips together and sighs. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me. It’s just not that kind of love, Belinda.”
I hold my breath, and then suddenly it comes spilling out and I push him back on the bed. It’s not about the tattoo. Although I love the tattoo.
It’s about him.
It’s about me.
It’s about us.
I kick my shoes off, slide my jeans down my legs, and climb on top of him, straddling his hips with my legs. And then I cup his face, lean down, and kiss him. Hard.
I kiss him like he kissed me yesterday in the lobby of Anna
Ameci’s. Like he’s my best friend and my lost lover. I kiss Vann Vaughn like he’s cool, clear water and I’m dying of thirst.
And he kisses me back like a man who is seen for the very first time.
Like a man who is appreciated when before he wasn’t.
Like a man kissing a woman who finally realized his worth.
He pulls back. Just a little. Just enough so our noses are touching and our foreheads are bumping. And then his eyes lift up to mine and I feel like I need to hold my breath.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
That’s it. Just, Thank you. No explanation. But I don’t need an explanation. I know why he’s thanking me. I’m still holding his face when I sigh, “I have always seen you, Vann. But up until today, I just didn’t see you with me. And I’m sorry for that. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am for that. I feel like an idiot for not realizing that we’re good together before now. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time and—”
“Shh,” he says, cutting me off. And then he pulls the elastic out of my braid and his fingertips begin unraveling my hair.
He does this in complete silence, looking me in the eyes. And it feels like a metaphor. It feels like he’s unraveling me as well as my braid. And when he’s done and my kinked-up pink hair is free, he arranges it so that it spills over my shoulders and contrasts against the black lace of my bra.
“Belinda,” he finally says. “I would wait until the end of time for you to see me. I would walk a thousand miles if you needed me. And maybe you don’t realize this yet, but this isn’t our first date.”
“No?” I ask.
“No. Our life together started eight years ago when you showed up at this very house looking to rent the apartment over the garage. I remember it—not like it was yesterday. Because for me, from the moment I first saw you, yesterday ceased to exist. From that second on, there was only the future of you and me. That’s it. That’s all that mattered. And I don’t even care that it took eight years to get here.” He shakes his head a little. “Why would I care? I spent the entire time with you sleeping thirty yards away every night. I spent the entire time walking you to and from work at least a couple times a week. I have spent countless days with you at my side. I don’t give a single fuck that we weren’t lovers through all that. That’s not what I was after. That was never the goal. I’m not thinking about missed opportunities. I’m not sorry that it took this long. I’m happy with who we are and how we got here. And maybe I got a little frustrated with you yesterday, but I didn’t lose faith in what I knew we had. That’s why I inked this tat on my arm. It was a declaration to myself that I would not give up. That I would keep going. That I would give you as much time as you needed. That I would be there through anything. As long as you let me, I will be here.”
