by T Gephart
“Really?” Jason laughed. I was petrified by what he was going to say next. “I don’t think Ash can take all the credit for it. Megs made a pretty memorable first impression.” Busted! I prayed the walk down memory lane would end there.
“Yeah, that was a great night,” Troy added, his voice tight but his face unreadable. “You might want to keep an eye on her, buddy; she has a tendency to fall down if she has too much to drink.” Okay, that was a cheap shot. He hadn’t reacted this way on our disastrous double date or after our numerous sexual encounters. The tension in the air crackled between us.
“Um, did I miss something?” Josh looked awkwardly between us. It was obvious that something had been missed. Even Josh in his post-Power-Station-appreciation glow could spot it a mile away.
Troy answered before I had a chance to open my mouth. “Miss something?” He let out a huge laugh. “We’re just messing around. I’m not used to seeing Megs so serious, that’s all.”
While Josh seemed satisfied with Troy’s explanation, I didn’t miss the edge in Troy’s voice. My heart was beating so fast I was positive that any minute it was going to leap out of my chest and land on the pool table. Was Troy trying to prove a point? And did he have to do it so publically or so sarcastically? It seemed I hadn’t been the only person who caught the things-are-getting-strange vibe with Jason studying both Troy and I carefully before stepping in.
“Hey, Josh, why don’t you let me buy you a beer while these two rack up the balls for the next game.” Jase tapped Josh on the shoulder. “They have this awesome microbrew that is off-menu, I’ll get us hooked up.”
If it wouldn’t have attracted too much attention I would have thrown myself at Jason and kissed him, his plan to give me and Troy a moment, an answer to my silent prayer that this eyeballing contest we seemed to be playing would come to an end.
Josh looked genuinely pleased that Jason had extended a private invitation. If he’d suspected it was anything more, he wasn’t letting on. “Sure, as long as Megan doesn’t mind. You want another drink, baby?”
“No, I’m fine.” I gave him a polite smile and lifted my mostly full Long Island. “Thanks for asking. Go ahead with Jason. I don’t mind.” Pushing him out the door and telling him not to hurry right back would probably raise alarm bells, so I went with nonchalant.
“Awesome, thanks, baby.” Josh gave me a squeeze before walking off with Jason, his voice trailing off in the distance. “So you guys are releasing a new album soon huh?”
“Your new boyfriend I assume.” It wasn’t a question; Troy tipped his chin toward the direction that Josh and Jase had left. He didn’t smile as he folded his arms in front of his chest.
“He isn’t my boyfriend, just a guy I’m seeing,” I snapped, wondering why he was acting so cagey. “I don’t know why you are being weird about it. I told you I was dating someone.”
I didn’t trust myself to be near him, knowing how twisted he made my emotions.
Troy didn’t have the same concerns about getting closer to me it seemed as he took a step in my direction. His hand tilted my chin to look him in his beautiful eyes. “You might want to clarify that with him. How many more times can he call you baby?” I could feel his breath on my skin as he spoke. “And I’m not the one being weird, Megan.”
It was much harder to be strong when I had to look at him, to deny that I wasn’t making a huge mistake by being with someone else. “What do you want me to say? You want me to tell him we slept together? I didn’t think that would help our cause of keeping that in the past.”
“Jesus, Megs, there is a lot of room between not knowing me and fucking me.” His hand grazed across his chin. “You didn’t think to pick somewhere in the middle?” His forehead crinkled in confusion.
“I panicked. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us. I just thought it would be easier…”
“Questions about us? Aren’t we supposed to be friends, I don’t understand why that’s so complicated. You had no problem telling me about him.” I saw the hurt flicker through his hazel eyes. “You introduce me as your friend, not just some fucking dude you happen to know because of Ash.”
“I don’t know what to say. You were never just some dude. I’m sorry that I said it and more than that, I’m sorry that I implied that you weren’t my friend.”
Sorry didn’t even begin to cut it. I felt horrible, there had been no need to lie about how I’d known Troy and yet, I had. It was the guilt. As ridiculous as it sounded, I felt like I was cheating. Cheating on Troy and cheating on myself by being with someone else. It took seeing them together in the room to put that in perspective. Troy wasn’t some guy I could just forget by dating someone else. He wasn’t someone I could just replace. I had been stupid to assume that I could, and even more stupid for falling in love with him. Yeah, I had avoided the word, danced around infatuation and lust, but what I felt was beyond those.
“Fuck, Megs, when you give those puppy dog eyes, it’s really hard for me to be pissed at you.” Troy rolled his eyes and he gave me a smile I didn’t think I deserved. He moved in closer and rubbed my arm with the tips of his fingers.
I shook my head softly and whispered. “Don’t be pissed at me, I’m already pissed at myself.”
“Yeah?” Troy raised an eyebrow. “And why are you pissed at yourself?”
A slow breath escaped my lips as I closed whatever distance there was between us. “There isn’t enough time to list all the reasons right now, Troy.”
It was instinct. I couldn’t be this so close to him and not touch him. It felt natural, like where I belonged. It wasn’t about sex or lust, it was a comfort I couldn’t describe and it’s what I needed. My head fell against his chest as my arms strained to wrap around him.
“Megs, what are you doing?” Troy chuckled against my hair.
My eyes closed as I absorbed him, savoring the moment. If I could have stopped us both from talking I would have. “I just need you to hold me right now. I know they are going to be back really soon, just hold me for a minute.”
“Megs, if there is something wrong you would tell me, right?” Troy gently ran his hand through my hair; there was a concern in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “This guy isn’t being an asshole is he?”
I signed as I answered honestly. “No, the only asshole here is me.”
He held me close to his body for a while and I let his warmness envelop me. It was selfish and I had no right to the comfort it afforded me, but I wanted it anyway. He wasn’t mine, he had never been mine and there would never be a time he would be. I’d tried to forget him, get over him and even talk myself into the fact that what we’d had was purely a sexual connection. What I had completely ignored was the truth, that I’d fallen for him—God it was so much more than that—and I wanted to have a relationship with him. Any other guy that came into my life was never going to measure up. It hadn’t been fair to anyone, least of all not to Josh.
I reluctantly peeled myself away from Troy’s chest, giving him my best smile to reassure him I was okay. The last thing Josh deserved was to come back and see me in the arms of another guy, especially when he’d held such high hopes for tonight. It was bad enough my heart already belonged to someone else; I wasn’t going to lie about it as well. Maybe Josh didn’t want a relationship, maybe he was looking for a good time; in any case, I wasn’t the girl for either of those things. The only fair thing would be to tell him.
Troy studied me curiously as I moved to the opposite end of the pool table and racked up the balls in the triangle. I had no intention of playing but it gave me something to do, something to take my mind off the mess that I had apparently got myself into.
Troy edged closer to me, his hand resting next to me on the pool table. “Megs, don’t go home with him,” he pleaded, my heart fracturing with the sound. His beautiful eyes were focused and serious. It hurt to look at them.
“Hey, baby. This beer is the shit. You want a ta
ste?” Josh waltzed in, a half consumed bottle of beer in his hand and just like that, whatever moment Troy and I had had was over. Josh’s eyes flicked over the racked-up balls on the felt and grinned. “Awesome, you set up. Who’s breaking?”
Never had a more appropriate question been asked. Who’s breaking? I was, and I didn’t want to. My feet miraculously took a few steps in front of the other and ended up by Josh’s side. “Would it be okay if we didn’t play. I’m a little tired.”
“Come on, Megs.” Jason looked disappointed as he grabbed a pool cue from the wall. “Stay and play a game.”
Josh put his arms around me and I tried not to flinch. “You sure you don’t want to play for a bit?” He was disappointed. His chance to rub shoulders with the rich-and-famous sabotaged by a moody date.
“You can stay if you want, you don’t have to leave.” Honestly at this point it didn’t matter. I was going home alone, so regardless if I walked out the door by myself or not, our date was coming to a very quick finale.
“Sorry boys, looks like Megan wants to call it a night.” Josh looked hopeful as he waved to the guys. “Maybe some other time?”
Troy leaned against his pool cue and gave us a tight smile. “Sure, anytime.” I was almost positive that offer was not genuine.
“Bye, Jase, Troy. I’ll see you soon.” I gave them both a half-hearted wave and let Josh put his arm around my waist.
He quickly swallowed what was left of his beer and placed the empty bottle on a nearby table. “See you, Troy, Jason. Thanks for the beer.”
Jase nodded and gave us a warm smile. “No problem, enjoy your night.”
I forced my way back though the maze of bodies, just needing to get out of the club. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, a condition made worse by Josh’s hands around my waist. I was almost dizzy by the time we made it to the front door.
“Hey baby, what’s the hurry?” He eyed me curiously as the bouncer who had let us in earlier opened the door to let us back out.
I didn’t answer, instead I climbed the stairs that lead to the sidewalk, all my concentration on putting one foot in front of the other so I didn’t fall on my face. A trip to the emergency room was not on the agenda for tonight.
Relief flooded me once I’d finally made it to the top, the street still brimming with night traffic. “Megan, slow down.” Josh grabbed my wrist as I tried to hail a cab. “You want to tell me what that was about?” He spun me around and forced me to look at him. He didn’t seem mad, which was a plus, but he wasn’t going to let me get into a cab without some kind of explanation.
Words eluded me. What did I even say? He was a fun guy, sure, we weren’t a perfect match, but he’d been so incredibly nice to me. He had been a distraction and that hadn’t been fair. So rather than continue the lie, I went with the truth and hoped it would stop me from feeling like a total jerk.
“Look, you’re a nice guy but we can’t see each other any more. I thought I was ready to date someone but I’m not. I don’t want to give you the it’s-not-you-it’s-me line but it really is me. I just can’t do this.”
He slowly let go of my wrist. “Is this because you’re running away from him?” His head jerked to the direction of the rickety stairwell.
“Huh?” My mouth dropped open. How did he know? Did one of my subconscious thoughts actually come out of my mouth or had he seen us together? Did I deny or confirm it? Now would have been a good time for some random act of God. In the end, my silence had been enough.
“Megan, you and me, we’re in a similar line of work. You’d be surprised how much you learn about a person when they are lying in your chair, waiting for you to tattoo them. Some get chatty, some stay quiet like you did; either way, you can read all you need to read from their body.” There was a kindness in his eyes when he spoke, it made me hate myself even more. “There are usually three different types of people who come and get ink.”
He held up his fingers and started to list them. “One. The living canvas. For these people their skin is blank pages that they use to tell their story. There is no separation between the art and them. It’s a part of them as much as an ear or a toe. It’s an addiction as well as an expression. Two. The weekend warrior. They go under the needle to earn cool points or to follow trend. These are the people who usually get some lame tribal band around their arm or a tramp stamp. They get tats that are highly visible and often cheesy. I don’t judge, but I assume that five to ten years down the track they will be spending time with a laser. Three. The tortured soul. They use the art as therapy, to memorialize something or a loved one. They mark their skins with tributes and dedications or a connection to something or someone. It’s just for them; displayed or not displayed it wouldn’t mean any more or less.
“I knew when you came into my studio that you weren’t a weekend warrior and you had virgin skin so it just left the last option. That’s why I asked you to sit down and let me draw something. I could tell you needed it.”
“They are beautiful.” My hands involuntary brushed across my hips where my tattoos were safely hidden.
“Like the girl who’s wearing them.” He smiled. “I didn’t know it was a guy, but I sensed your head was elsewhere. You’re really pretty though and I just thought I’d take a chance. Hoping whatever demon was chasing you would hopefully quiet down and we could get to know each other a little better. You seemed like you would be a lot of fun. The not wanting to kiss me should have tipped me off that you weren’t interested, but you know…” He gave me an adorable smile. “I figured I’d keep trying.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I feel so fucking terrible right now.”
Apparently the pedestrians on the street didn’t care for my heart felt apology, nor did they seem invested in our chat; their heated stares glared as they jostled past us as we stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Josh gently took my hand and guided me away from the foot traffic and onto a nearby stoop.
“Why? ’Cause you went out with me?” He rubbed the base of his chin, his eyes confused like he could comprehend why I’d felt bad.
Because I used you, because there was never going to be anyone else other than him. The words I eventually said were softer but no less true. “Because I let you believe there was more than there was.”
“You didn’t do anything like that.” He laughed. “I had a ball, didn’t you have fun? Cheese fries and drag queens, I don’t think I’ve ever had a date like that.”
“Yeah, it was nice.” I agreed, for the most part it had been pleasant. It certainly wasn’t terrible and as horrible as it sounded, he had been a lovely distraction.
“Megan, I really like seeing that beautiful smile and it’s been cool hanging out with you over the last week or so. But a man can’t really compete with a memory, especially one that is still very much in your life.” He gave me slight shrug of the shoulders.
Did I explain further or did I let it go? I’d never met a guy who’d seemed so relaxed about the fact his date wasn’t actually interested in him. It confused me a little but most of all, I was glad. Josh had been right about one thing, we were in a similar line of work. He knew exactly what to say and exactly how to say it. There was going to be no dramatic showdown on the street and I was glad that I had walked into his shop that day. He’d given me so much more than the beautiful feathers that now graced my skin.
“Do I owe you any extra money for the counseling? I feel like those tattoos were hugely under priced,” I asked cautiously, thankful that out of all the tattoo shops in all of New York, I walked into his.
Another shrug, another smile. “Nah, you were a nice canvas to work on. I got to look at your beautiful skin for hours instead of a big sweaty biker. You also smell a lot nicer than they usually do.”
And just like that it was over. It had been almost anticlimactic. We both knew we probably wouldn’t be seeing each again, not unless I decided to get another tattoo, and there was an easy sense of calm around the end of it. If I didn’t think it would s
end the wrong signal, I would have given him a big hug but instead I opted for a shoulder bump and a smile. “Thanks, Josh, I showered that morning and everything. I’m so glad I didn’t stink.”
He playfully bumped me back and smiled. “I know the date’s pretty much a bust, but will you let me drive you home?”
“Yeah, I would like that.”
I can’t believe she just left with the asshole. She had asked me to hold her, and then she turned around and left with him. One thing was fucking clear— she still wanted me as much as I still wanted her. I felt it and I saw it in her eyes when I’d wrapped my arms around her. It was not fucking one-sided and all she had to do was not go home with him.
I didn’t say a fucking word when she told me she had started dating some dude. The chair I threw at the wall, well that couldn’t be helped. She was so cagey about how they’d met. He wasn’t even her type as far as I could tell but if she was happy, then I’d keep a lid on it. I’d even kept my trap shut when she mentioned he’d kissed her. Yep. That had been a fun night. I’d gotten into my Lambo and redlined the shit out of it before I calmed down enough to finally go home. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be kissing some other guy, not unless you counted the fact that I didn’t want her to. Nope, those lips I only wanted on me.
Seeing his hands on her, calling her baby, was more than I could fucking stand. But the kicker was her playing it off like she barely knew me. The fucking icing on the cake.
I’d been ready to tell her to forget it; I wasn’t really interested in being some chump who sat on the sidelines. But those eyes, when she said she was sorry, there was no way those words would come out of my mouth. She didn’t just look fucking sorry, she looked sad. Tore me up. I didn’t care if it was me or the situation— I wanted it to stop. The hug; it was the beginning of the end.
