One Year Left

by J. C. Robinson

  “What? Why?” It was a weak refusal. His eyes were disarming and genuine in a way Cooper’s had never been. Something about Will made me want to accept his generosity and find a way to return the gesture.

  “Will? Kristen? I’m ready for y’all,” our tattoo artist, Steve, called.

  Will

  I sat on the bench in the tattoo parlor and couldn’t help but stare. I was absolutely lost in her eyes. I had forgotten about the receptionist and everything else in the room. I thought she looked cute while daydreaming earlier, but wow, it affected me ten times more when she was looking directly at me. Earlier, before I knew it, I found myself paying her deposit. I really didn’t mind. I had felt a desperation well up inside my chest that wanted to make her happy. Anything to see that smile. Now, it was probably for the best there was nothing else to pay for because I would have handed over my wallet and more.

  We sat on that bench waiting for Steve to come out. We joked, and the conversation came naturally. I pretended to leave, but of course, I would never pass up an opportunity to spend more time with her. Eventually, we settled into gazing at each other. I don’t remember how we fell into that moment, but my whole world stopped. I looked at her, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away. An invisible force pulled me toward her. Was that desire? No, this was something more. My forgetting to blink was evidence of that. I didn’t want to lose a second of her sitting there. I swallowed and resisted touching my lips where I wanted them to meet hers.

  She was handling the magnetic attraction better than I was, as she was able to speak. I had no idea what I said. My mind was on autopilot. I think I did mention paying her deposit, though. My lips curled into a huge grin as I realized she hadn’t known that I did. That look was exactly what my mind yearned for. Now if my body could calm itself in obsessing over what it wanted.

  I jumped when Steve called us back. I took one last look at Kristen’s sparkling, dark eyes and followed her to the back.

  We reached the back of the studio, and Steve asked us who was first. I wasted no time in pointing to Kristen. She gave me a playful glare but sat down.

  “So what’ll it be?” Steve asked.

  She bit the inside of her cheek and took a brief moment before responding. “I’d like a mini ice cream truck. With a tiny, big-headed dude in it.”

  Steve laughed and asked where she wanted it. She pointed to the back of her left shoulder. “This is my random shoulder, I’ve already got a few small things there.”

  A random designated area. That was genius.

  Kristen adjusted her shirt, described the truck. Steve left the room.

  “So, am I the big head?” I asked.

  “Potentially…” she answered.

  “Oh, man.” I walked to the mirror and looked between my reflection and her. She sat there with her shoulder exposed, a mix of clean skin and colorful tattoos. The giggle that accompanied the sight was beyond perfect. My hands started to sweat despite not being close to getting under the needle.

  Steve returned with the sketch. “How’s this?”

  I hurried over to check it out. It was well done, just like she had described it.

  “All right, let’s do it.” Kristen nodded to Steve.

  * * *

  I found myself with the same stencil on my skin about an hour and a half later. I had no qualms regarding this tattoo, even if I was going to get past one year, this would remind me of a moment I never wanted to forget. A playful shove, some laughter, and an irresistible smile from a girl I had known for only a few days so far. But these memories would be cherished for much longer than memories I had with girls I dated for months. Even if I never kissed Kristen, or if a meteor hit the tattoo shop at this very moment…I would take that feeling of my skin tingling with want and her gravitational pull based in my desire any day. That moment would be a bottomless sea of reverie for me, even if we got the tattoos and never spoke again.

  The needle hit my skin and my goose bumps of lust were replaced by the shock of ink being poured into my skin. I relaxed my shoulder, clenched my fists, and tried to think of something besides the pain. True to my prediction, my mind found itself wandering to the shove Kristen gifted me earlier. Her hands had made contact with my chest, and I even felt them linger as they swiped away down my abs—I think, I hope.

  “This is a unique type of pain, that’s for sure,” I said.

  “Let me get you a glass of water,” Kristen said. She hopped up and gracefully walked out of the small room. It was a mix between a walk and a skip. I had never seen something so carefree from her. Another piece of the Kristen puzzle uncovered.

  She returned with the cup of water, and I gulped it down. I hadn’t realized how much I had been sweating.

  “Thanks!” I grinned with pure relief. At that point, judging by how long her tattoo took, I decided mine shouldn’t take too much longer. My shoulder was incredibly sore. So my thoughts wandered back to her.

  Bringing the water was a small gesture, but it was thoughtful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d encountered a truly thoughtful girl. Was this who Kristen really was? I doubt she had an ulterior motive, but maybe it was a pity cup. Why did I insist on comparing her to other girls? I was truly overthinking everything, so I was glad when Steve said he was done.

  Our tattoos were beautiful, in an odd “we got matching stunningly colored ice cream truck tattoos” kind of way. I pointed to mine, “Clearly, this is Daichi.”

  “Mine is still you,” she said.

  “They are the exact same!” I protested.

  .

  CHAPTER 8

  Will

  A few hours later, my sore shoulder and I found ourselves at Daichi’s place.

  “Dude, I said take a break. Not go get a tattoo. Who does that?” he exclaimed. “You’re lucky I’m an understanding boss.” He leaned forward on his recliner. “And you’re lucky I’m mighty curious; tell me everything.”

  I told him everything, except I added in a part where we actually ate the ice cream.

  Daichi leaned back, pulled the lever for the footrest, and looked to the ceiling. “This is different,” he said.

  “Well, yeah, I’m working on an ice cream truck on a misty morning in Portland,” I said.

  “No, not just that.” He hummed to himself. I waited for him to tell me why Kristen was different from the other girls of my haunted past. As I watched his forehead vein bulge, I began to think to myself, What made her seem like such a good match so far? What made this girl so captivating? Her physical features, definitely, but that couldn’t be it.

  Daichi and I sat there in silence for a good five minutes before we gave up.

  “I can’t figure it out. What is it about this girl? All I do know is I want to make her happy despite only seeing her like three times. Three times, Daichi!” I exhaled and flopped from sitting to laying face first on the couch.

  Her happiness was a drug, and I was beginning to question its over-the-counter availability. It really should have been a controlled substance.

  I popped my head up. “Let’s go to Target.”

  * * *

  There was an orange-red sunset that shone through the streets as I unlocked the door to my house. I walked inside with the bag from Target in my right hand. I hoped Kristen was home. I shut the door and began to walk up the landing toward the kitchen. When I reached the top, I heard soft footsteps and saw Kristen’s face peek from upstairs.

  “Hey,” she said.

  I waved her down, and she took the steps two at a time. Eager. Or was I reading that wrong?

  “I got a surprise for you,” I said as we reached the kitchen.

  “Oh, what is it?” she walked toward the Target bag at my feet.

  I just watched her approach. Shorts and a tank top. Typical Kristen, it suited her perfectly. She reached me and the bag. “So, what is it, big head?”

  I glared at her (is it possible to glare with a grin?). “Good thing I kept the receipt,” I said.

  “Wh
at is it, normal-sized head?” She slowly reached for the bag. “Better?”

  “Go ahead.”

  She pulled the bag down from the box and sucked in her breath.

  Kristen

  Unable to hide my lack of patience, I slid the bag down. “Will!”

  He beamed. “You did say we needed one.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I thought it would be tattoo aftercare stuff or something.” I was shocked. He had brought home a blender. I picked it up and placed it on the counter. I switched between staring at Will with my mouth agape and reading the features on the blender’s box. “You remembered.” Yep, I was in shock.

  How could he act like this was nothing? This was so thoughtful. I stammered something incoherent. He leaned against the table, now in the path of the sunset that framed his handsome features perfectly. “I had no idea,” I said.

  “Well, Kristen, that’s what a surprise usually is,” he teased.

  That’s not even it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t expecting a blender, but rather that he had remembered something I mentioned in passing. Cooper didn’t even remember when I asked him to bring me a glass of water. No, I wouldn’t compare this time. Will was on another level. A level I didn’t know existed.

  “Will, wait right here. Let me put some socks on, and then we can blend some shit,” I said, already running out of the kitchen. I took the steps two at a time once again, but this time it was because I felt the corners of my eyes collecting a small pool, just threatening to be released.

  Will

  Kristen bounded out of the kitchen, and I cursed under my breath. The happiness that exuded from her was overwhelming; I was amazed I could still stand. She was intoxicating. She was perfect.

  There was nothing more I desired at that moment than to grab her by the hips and place her on the counter. How nice would it be to look at her and not resist the force that pulls me toward her. More than anything, I wanted to be in the position before my lips met hers, to savor that moment and keep it in my memory bank for the days to come. Replaying that would give me the same chills whether I was thinking about it days later or a few months.

  Kristen’s footsteps were audible as she came down the steps. I forced myself to stop unknowingly biting my lip. I didn’t want to look silly in front of her.

  “I got my socks,” she said, entering the kitchen. “And the A&D. I’ll help you put it on your tattoo if you help with mine. Back tattoos are the toughest to reach.”

  “As long as your fingers are warm, you’ve got a deal.”

  She opened the blender and plugged it in. Then, we found some strawberries and blueberries in the fridge. I wasn’t sure if it was enough, but she waved my concerns away. She said we’d just use a ton of ice. I decided to trust her, despite her not making anything with a blender in years. I guess she was right, how hard could it be?

  Ten minutes later we discovered it could be quite hard. Although, I blame the fact that we were both distracted. I was sitting at the table, daydreaming of her on the counter while she was blending. Hence, me missing that she had put coffee grounds in. I guess her arms were just so used to dumping coffee into cylindrical things.

  “Welp, time for aftercare,” I said, throwing up my hands and moving into the living room.

  She followed me into the room. “We’ll have to go shopping sometime.”

  Yep,” I agreed. “But get your butt back in there and put those hands under some boiling water. I can see those suckers freezing into icicles from here.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned around, going back into the kitchen.

  I got on the floor and did ten push-ups.

  She returned to find me sitting on the couch, attempting to keep my breathing from giving myself away.

  “I had to get the aftercare stuff, anyway,” she said, holding up a tube of ointment.

  “Does this come with a massage? Because I can feel a few knots tightening up.”

  “Only if I get one too,” she said, sitting on the ground. “Shirt off.” She patted the floor in front of her.

  I whipped my shirt off and sat in front of her. What is she thinking?

  One finger and then two found their way to my back. Thankfully, they were warm. The ointment was thick and soothed the slight soreness of the tattoo. Her fingers retreated and I peeked over my shoulder, she was wiping them. She caught my eye and motioned me to turn back around.

  I faced forward and closed my eyes, awaiting the feel of her delicate fingers on my back again. Goose bumps appeared from sheer anticipation.

  Her right hand touched my back and began slowly kneading below my shoulder blade. Her left hand met my back shortly after, mimicking the kneading motion.

  “How much pressure do you like?”

  I shrugged. I had no words. “This is good.” Okay, I had three.

  Her hands continued to massage my back, moving down to my lower back. Though my eyes were still closed, I could picture us sitting on the floor, her touching me for the first time. I loved the sight. Strangely, I thought about when we would switch, and I was just as thrilled to provide her the serene pleasure she gave me.

  Kristen removed her hands briefly. I took the moment to breathe deeply. As I exhaled, her hands reached my shoulders. Her thumbs rubbed circles over my traps while her other fingers ran over the upper arm itself. They started down my arms, and she squeezed ever so slightly every now and then. I thought I heard her inhale slightly. I mouthed a silent thank-you for remembering to do those push-ups. Kristen’s hands made their way down to my elbow, briefly ran over my forearm, and then made their way back up my arm. The hands of this angel reached my traps and continued to my neck. She dropped one hand, resting it clasped onto my left bicep. The other hand split into a claw shape and massaged up the back of my neck, under my hair.

  I swear I almost moaned. “Kristen.”

  “Yes?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

  “I like this.” I turned and looked into those eyes I’ve had so much trouble avoiding lately. “Your turn.”

  We switched positions, she took off her tank top, leaving her in only a sports bra. The breath was instantly sucked out of me. Same thing as a bathing suit, yeah yeah, I thought. Either way, I was affected. I applied the A&D without a word. I had none. I wiped my fingers clean and placed my hands on her back. She had a relatively small frame, and my hands looked to take up a large area. I copied her motions and routine. I stared at the back of her neck, she had swept her hair to the side, leaving her neck open for my fingers. I wanted to skip to massaging it. I made my way down her shoulders, squeezing as I did.

  “What don’t you tell most people?” I asked her. I wanted to know her.

  “Hmm. I dated a girl once.”

  “Oh, really? How was that?”

  “Good, better than you monsters,” she said.

  “I think you’re mostly joking, but I sense some truth in there,” I said.

  Her shoulders shrugged under the weight of my hands. “I think I might be a douche magnet. Somehow I always end up with their big heads tattooed on my back.” She turned around with the slyest of grins.

  I leaned forward an inch and stopped. Now even my natural reactions were working against me. Every part of me wanted to kiss her. I attempted to play off the movement with a slight push. “I’m gonna go back and get a caricature of you tomorrow.”

  She scooted around to face me. She brought her hand up to her mouth and faked a gasp. I held back a grin. We were sitting facing each other. Our eyes locked.

  “Tell me about your writing,” I said. I wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her if she was talking.

  She pursed her lips. “I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.”

  “Is it cliché if I ask to read it?”

  “Probably.” Her eyes sparkled with joy. We were getting better. Eye contact and conversation.

  “Do you want to publish a book?”

  She looked away and rubbed her still-bare shoulder. I took my hand from my lap and hov
ered it over where she had just rubbed. She didn’t withdraw, so I placed it on her shoulder and rubbed. Her skin was so soft. Was this comforting? I hoped I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.

  “I think so,” she finally answered.

  My hand dropped down her arm and found its way to her hand. I pressed my hand into hers. “How can I help?”

  “That’s a good question,” she said. “I’ll get back to you on that.” She gave me a half smile. It seemed like she might be trying to open up. If she was trying, I could wait.

  “Cool, let me know when you need me.” I squeezed her hand. “Wait, how weird do you think we look right now?” I chuckled as I pictured us sitting there, topless, just facing each other.

  “I’ve done weirder,” she said, before letting out a soft laugh. “I’m gonna finish some schoolwork up here, and then I’ll meet you downstairs for another sleepover.”

  * * *

  That night when bedtime came, Kristen and I were in our respective beds, fairly silent. I was lost in thought, bordering on confused.

  I knew I fell for cute girls easy, especially if they had any sort of charm…but this was ridiculous. It’s almost as if nothing but Kristen has existed for the past two days. Only one year left, I realized.

  “Will?” Kristen’s voice cut through the silence.

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember you asked how you could help?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Believe in me.”

  .

  CHAPTER 9

  Kristen

  “Kristen!”

  I turned to Chris. “What?” I said in a sharp whisper.

  “I called your name like sixteen times. You’ve just been staring at that damn book for twenty minutes. What are you even thinking about?” Chris asked.

  I looked down at the book I was holding. I was in the table of contents. I closed the book to check the cover. I didn’t remember picking it up.

  “Girl, you might have a problem,” my best friend said.

  “In what way?” I took a step back. “It was just a super interesting table of contents.” I placed the book back on the shelf and walked farther down the aisle.