Tattoo Lust: A Tattoo Romance Collection

by Skyla Madi

  Sam nods at someone across the backyard and sucks in air through his front teeth. When he looks back at me, he assesses my body before locking his creepy gray eyes with mine. “You know, underneath all of your quirks and bitchy attitude is someone I can see myself sleeping with.”

  Oh, gross.

  I push him off before I gag out loud. “Go away.”

  He laughs off my rejection and pushes me back with gusto, almost knocking me into the bushes. I can’t see Caitlyn anywhere, so I grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray—then another—and dart through the sea of people. They’re blocking the way back into the house, and all of my quick exits that I planned out before are now gone.

  It isn’t enough for Caitlyn that we’re on completely opposite ends of the popularity spectrum—which doesn’t bother me, but she’ll never let me forget it. It’s like she always has to one-up me, no matter what the circumstances. I don’t remember most of my childhood with her, and the parts I do remember are confusing and pointless.

  I started expressing concerns about my memories to my parents last year. Even though I don’t remember it, I’m told I was in a car accident that gifted me with retrograde amnesia a few months before I started noticing signs that things didn’t feel right. Whenever I try to recall a memory that someone in my family describes to me, there’s nothing there. Everything before moving to Silver Lake is just…empty.

  According to my parents, the headaches started after I left the hospital; they’d bring me to my knees at first. After a few months—and after we moved to northern California from Washington State—they died down. I still have them sometimes, but physical therapy wasn’t really helping, so I never went back.

  The dreams, meanwhile, started after we moved to Silver Lake—dreams so vivid that they’d haunt me for days. That’s why I started asking questions about my missing memories. That…and the lack of pictures on our walls. No family portraits, no birthdays or Christmas dinners…nothing.

  Maybe I don’t remember anything about my life before a year ago, but my family does. Why wouldn’t they want any reminders of it? My mom told me it’s so I don’t feel bad about the holes in my memory, and I guess I get that, but…the whole situation gives me a funny feeling, like I’m missing something else, too.

  I know it doesn’t make my family feel very loved to know I don’t remember them or all the wonderful things they surely have done for me. I do feel bad about that. So now, instead of reminding everyone that I feel like a stranger in my own body, I say nothing and let the tension slowly build inside like a ticking time bomb.

  “Livvie!” Caitlyn calls for me in her squeaky voice. “Livvie, over here!”

  I don’t want to look.

  I don’t want to look.

  I don’t want to—

  “Hey, didn’t you hear me?” Her sharp, fake fingernails dig into my skin. I swear I can feel the blood trickling down my arm. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

  I hand her the two empty champagne glasses and smile the fake smile that she taught me. “Home.” I shake my head. “I don’t belong here.”

  Caitlyn frowns and tries to toss her bleached hair over her shoulder in annoyance. It amuses me when she does this, because her hair is shoulder-length and there’s nothing to toss. “These things are important, and I attend to represent our family. We just moved here—we need friends.” Her lips smack together, and the stickiness of her lip gloss makes a wet, sloppy sound. I laugh to myself, thinking it looks like glue. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “We moved here months ago.” My entire body is numb as she walks away from me and re-joins her group of friends, picking up where she left off and laughing along with them. I would never, ever tell her this, but I desperately want that to be me. I don’t have a lot of friends—no one that ever sticks around long enough to be called a friend, really—and while she’s out there putting her good name to use, I’m stuck in between two brick walls, going nowhere fast.

  She is right about one thing: I don’t understand what she means about “family.” How can I, when I hardly feel right about calling her my sister?

  Caitlyn looks back at me and squints her eyes in anger, silently demanding me to leave.

  Fine.

  “I’m going,” I mouth and pick up another glass of champagne, letting the bubbly liquid fill my throat before putting the empty flute back on the waiter’s tray. The room starts to spin a little beneath my feet, but not enough for me to ask Caitlyn for a ride home so I have to listen to her complain the entire way. I manage to make it outside of the mansion before collapsing onto the damp, manicured grass with my head in my hands. I have no idea where I left my purse with my phone and keys, but it doesn’t matter. I can walk home from here—all seven miles in these heels, if I have to.

  “I would ask if you’re okay, but that seems like a silly question,” a deep voice rumbles above me. It amplifies inside my head, bouncing around the walls and making me dizzier than the champagne. “So I’ll ask a different question: may I help you up?” The smoothness of his voice excites me and lights a fire inside of my stomach. I trust this person with everything inside of me, and I haven’t even bothered to look up. Now I know I’m drunk; my thoughts make no sense.

  A hand reaches down into my field of vision, but I shake my head and swat it away. “No thanks.”

  The long breath he lets out amuses me. I’ve managed to somehow annoy him without even looking up. The uneasy feeling he’s having is bleeding into the air; he seems restless, like he can’t stand still or something. Is this his house? Maybe he’s pissed because I’m sprawled out, drunk, on his lawn?

  “Suit yourself, but I think that the gentlemen looking up your skirt could use a break, don’t you?” The world spins as I try to peek up through my messy hair. A group of older men stare at me from a few feet away as I feel the breeze between my legs; I snap them together. I groan and try to lift myself up, the champagne rushing to my head again. “Whoa, there, Bug,” the man says, leaping toward me and holding out his arms. I fall and hit something hard, but I’m not on the ground.

  I smile into his chest over his dress shirt, completely unaware of how much makeup I’m smearing on him. “Yum, you smell like cinnamon and whiskey.” My mind races as my weight sags against his body. There’s something igniting about his aroma—it’s making my head spin even faster as he holds me.

  The man laughs a deep, smoky laugh and brushes my hair from my face so he can get a better look at what he’s getting himself into. “Let me take you home. You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.” I’m so dizzy that I can’t think straight, but I know that Caitlyn will kill me if word gets around that her sister left the upper-class social mingle with some strange man. Ever since we moved to Silver Lake, it’s like she’s become an entirely different person…well, as far as I can remember.

  “My sister,” I mumble. “She’s here.”

  More people stop to look at us, wondering what my problem is and sticking their noses up at me once they realize I’m just a little too drunk—something that regularly happens at these events when someone with a problem attends, I’m sure.

  But I don’t have just one problem.

  I have dozens of them.

  “Olivia!” Caitlyn scolds me as she rushes to us; her judging eyes cut right through me. I’m thankful for the warmth that my savior is giving me. I feel myself smile and snuggle into the man’s chest, breathing him in and brushing her off. This only makes her stomp her feet harder on the ground in protest. There’s something about his warmth that makes me feel safe and guarded, like I fit perfectly inside his grasp.

  Her breathing hitches when she notices the person holding me. “Jake?”

  Jake.

  Jake smells good.

  Jake feels good, too.

  Caitlyn panics. “Olivia, come here—I’ll call Dad to come and get you.” I don’t know if it’s because I’m drunk or delusional, but the fear in her eyes
sends chills down my arms.

  “Is this one of your non-exclusive boyfriends?” A hiccup escapes my lips. “This one smells good.”

  Jake snorts. “I’ll take her home…I’m headed out anyway.” He starts to move his large body backward, away from her. She tries her best to suck him back in, her fear circling us, but he doesn’t back down, and he doesn’t surrender me to her.

  Caitlyn nervously giggles. “Um, I can ride with you if you want. She’s my sister—I am responsible for her. What are you even doing here? It’s a really long way from Seattle.”

  “The same thing you are, I imagine,” he growls. “How did you get into this party, anyway? I don’t remember seeing your name on the guest list when I RSVP’d.”

  “We came with a friend. Sam Collins…do you know him?” Her eyes narrow. “He’s probably looking around for us right now, to make sure we’re okay.”

  Even through my haze, I hear the threatening tone in her voice. “Can’t say that I do,” Jake says. “Maybe you should run along and find him—I’m sure he’d love to show you off.”

  She reaches for me, but he turns away. “Jake, I really think I should call my dad.”

  “I can handle it—I don’t need you to tag along.” He snorts and tightens his grip on me. My insides throw a little victory party as her mouth turns down into a slight frown. He holds my body upright against him as Caitlyn glares at my limp frame. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

  “I’ll just call my dad; he can come and pick her up, Jake.” Caitlyn’s repeating herself now, her voice getting higher and higher in pitch, frantic.

  Why doesn’t she want me going with him? Not that I really care as I snuggle further into Jake’s chest.

  He squeezes me tighter. “Like I said, I’m already leaving. I’ll get her home. Don’t worry, okay?” He starts walking down the yard, toward the lot full of parked cars, with my body still pressed against his. His cinnamon breath fills my nose, and his chest is so warm I could fall asleep on it if I let myself totally relax. But he is a stranger, and I am drunk. I should be way more anxious than I am.

  “Hey, don’t fall asleep, okay?” he whispers into my hair, now matted with sweat and probably reeking a little of cigar smoke. “I’ll get you home.” He gently places me inside the front seat of a gray Mercedes, straps me in with my seat belt, and quietly shuts the door. The headrest feels so good as I relax and listen to him get into the car next to me. “Where do you live?”

  I scoff. “I’m sure you already know.”

  Jake pulls the car out of the lot with ease. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I feel sick.

  “Nothing.” I smile and open the window to breathe in some of the crisp, September air; I try to follow the trees as we pass them. The leaves are turning now, from green to red and orange, and it makes me smile because no matter how many memories I lose inside of myself, the changing of the seasons will always stay the same; it’ll never betray me. I love the feeling that you get when the world gradually turns from summer to autumn. The smells and the sights and the temperature change make me feel a little less broken inside.

  “I’m Jake, by the way.” He rolls my window up from his side, his shoulders shaking as a cold chill apparently passes through his body. “And it’s freezing, so let’s just shut this.”

  I feel my face flush. “Sorry, champagne makes me really hot.” I tuck my hands underneath my legs and sigh. “And thanks for the ride. Caitlyn likes to show everyone that I’m just a piece of gum stuck to her shoe any chance she gets.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you a mess on a stranger’s front lawn, now was I?”

  I rub my forehead. “I guess I had a little more champagne that I probably should’ve.”

  “A little?” He laughs, and I blush for the millionth time. “I watched you guzzle down about six flutes, Bug.”

  I’m not quite sure how I feel about him watching me—or the weird nickname he’s given me. Bug?

  I know I’ve seen him before, somewhere, but I’d remember meeting someone like Jake around Silver Lake, for sure. Now that I finally have enough courage to look directly at him, I see where I wetted his dress shirt with my sweat-soaked hair and where the grass stains on my dress got his dress slacks dirty. I still feel the liquor in my blood, but there’s something that pulls me toward him and calls for me.

  Olivia. Olivia.

  Not to mention he’s absolutely gorgeous. He’s concentrating on the road, so I have time to look him over a little soberer than before. His short, copper-blonde hair clings to his head from the evening’s dew, but the top has longer curls that almost fall into his eyes. His jawline is long and joins his strong chin, a defined Adam’s apple moving subtly beneath his skin. His narrow, pale brown eyes sit underneath straight and thin dark brown eyebrows. I can almost reach out and run my finger along the bridge of his nose; it’s perfectly shaped and straight as it leads down to his full top lip and even fuller bottom one. A tingling sensation fills my stomach and creeps lower, so I snap my legs shut to try and drown it out.

  “Can we get some coffee? I don’t want to go home just yet.” I smooth out my short dress, the one that Caitlyn forced me to wear. “I left my purse and phone at that party. I guess now would be the time to murder me if you were going to. I have no weapon or any other way to defend myself.”

  Jake shakes his head. “Do you always think the worst?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” The city comes into view, and a Starbucks passes us by; my mouth waters, but the car lurches past it, and I frown. “What’s so bad in your life that you think that way?”

  A low groan comes from my throat. “I just want some coffee, not a lecture.”

  “I just want to get to know you, not any attitude.” He pulls into a small coffee shop parking lot. “It’s not every day I get to save a beautiful damsel in distress sprawled out on a wet lawn.”

  “Oh, you’re just laying it on thick, aren’t you?” I laugh. “I’m not that drunk, sorry.”

  Jake’s brown eyes look hurt as he searches my face for answers. “I think you have a common misconception that all men are the same.”

  I stare at him, blankly. “That’s because they are.”

  “So any man would’ve picked you up, offered to take you home?”

  “Yes, they would. Although you are the first guy that hasn’t tried to get under my dress, so I thank you for that.” My words slur as I open the door, letting myself out. “But the day is still young.” The parking lot spins; I manage to stand and brace myself as I hear his door slam shut.

  Jake looks angry as he races toward me, making sure I don’t fall on my face and hurt myself. “Let me help you,” he growls in my ear, putting his arm around my waist like Sam did and tugging me into him.

  Cinnamon and whiskey.

  I smile and breathe in deeply, nearly unable to stop myself from standing on my toes and planting one on his lips out of curiosity. He pushes me inside and places me at a small, secluded table.

  “Don’t move. I’ll get the coffee.” He eyeballs me, and I suddenly feel like doing what he says. I’m in no position to argue anyways, not with someone who has saved me from embarrassment in the upper-class Silver Lake community. When Jake comes back, he hands me a large, steaming mug, and I smile.

  “Americano.” He blushes and sips from his own mug, something dark and rich. “I hope you like it.”

  It’s just the only coffee I order, that’s all.

  “How do you know my sister?” I look around the small coffee shop, noticing two women around my age eyeing us and drooling over Jake—even with me sitting three feet away from him.

  Jake puts his mug down. “I’d rather not talk about her.”

  I snort and sip more of the deliciousness inside of the mug. “If you know Caitlyn, you know that I don’t like to talk about her.”

  The corners of his mouth twitch as he thinks of an answer. He just looks so damn…sad. “What I want to know is where yo
u’ve been hiding.” Watching him lick the coffee from his lips is intoxicating. I’m sure that I’m staring as he sucks his tongue back into his mouth and smiles. “But yeah, anyway, I’ve known Caitlyn for a long time.”

  “Then it actually makes sense that we haven’t met before.” Even though it feels like we have. My teeth find the inside of my cheek.

  “How so?” Jake’s smile broadens, and it makes me feel even more jumbled inside.

  Annoyed at the fact that I can’t stop looking at his wide smile, I gulp down more coffee before I can keep making a fool of myself. I swallow the hot liquid and wince at the heat in my throat. “I don’t try and make it a point to meet her friends from that part of her life.”

  His eyebrows rise in intrigue. “That part of her life?”

  I finish the coffee and lick my lips; Jake puts up two long fingers in the air, motioning for the barista to bring me more. “You know, cocktail parties and charity balls and black-tie parties and fancy barbecues in rich people’s football field-sized backyards. She’s putting herself into a world where she doesn’t belong.” I watch his thick thumb rub the handle of the mug and think about what his fingers would feel like on mine. There’s no doubt he’s attractive—every woman in this place can feel the sex appeal dripping off of him like wax off of a burning candle. The barista skips to our table and refills my cup, looking at Jake the whole time.

  Jake thanks her and hands her a tip. I feel so self-aware that it’s haunting me. I’m not looking for whatever he’s trying to give me—or take from me. He finishes his mug and denies a refill from the woman. I feel the breeze of the door opening and cross my legs harder, suddenly remembering that I’m in a short, black cocktail dress.

  His eyebrows furrow. “Everything okay?”

  “This dress isn’t appropriate for a coffee shop.” I tug the bottom of the dress down and hope I don’t pull the top of it down with it. “I forgot I was wearing it.”