Ink My Heart

by Jean Haus

  “You need to lie down?”

  I shake my head.

  He swallows tightly. “So…about that call.”

  My arms tighten around my knees. “I kind of had a revelation last night. First let me say I’m sorry about getting weird this week. I was overwhelmed. Between Trevor’s antics and my own reservations, everything was too much.”

  His hands grip the edge of the coffee table, but his face is expressionless. “Reservations?”

  A sigh escapes me at the thought of explaining, but he deserves to understand. “Over the last couple of years, I’ve built up this image in my head of who I’m allowed to date. Someone older. Someone with a career. Someone financially stable. The list is never ending. Probably because no man would fit all my requirements, then I wouldn’t have to risk getting hurt again. Thing is, I’d held on to my conditions for so long I couldn’t see past them.”

  “You’re right.” He looks away toward the kitchen, and I finally catch the emotion on his face. Hopelessness. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  My knees drop and I lean toward him. “Not even close. I realized last night you’re nearly perfect.”

  His startled gaze meets mine.

  “No one has ever treated me like you do. The roof, the wine, breakfast…Just the way you look at me makes my breath catch.” I put my hands on his knees and it appears as though I’m making his breath catch. “When we’re together, I feel like the girl I used to be. You’ve broken down the wall I built around myself by being caring and sweet and so patient with me. Those words you told me Sunday were lovely, and I was a fool to panic. Your actions have shown me your feelings loud and clear, but I was too scared and blind to see the truth in them.” Though his face is full of wonder, it’s also tight with confusion. I stand and tug his hand. “Let me show you the truth.”

  He lets me lead him into my bedroom, which is where I moved my easel this morning. I flick on the lamp and gesture toward the almost-done painting sitting at the easel at the end of my bed. “I’d been fighting my feelings for you, but when I let myself go, the artist inside of me created this.”

  His wide eyes focused on the canvas, Justin falls on the end of my bed. He traces the swirls of the painting’s center. On the canvas he stands tall in all his muscled, tattooed glory, wearing only jeans, in front of a painting. He’s reaching out, grasping my hand and pulling me from the painting inside a painting, freeing me from its confines. Though done in my favorite style of modern impressionism, the painting depicts both of us in washed-out colors instead of the bright hues I usually use. Except for the growing burst of color at the focal point where our hands connect. There the painting is bright, the colors vibrant along the skin of our arms.

  “It’s beautiful,” he says in a short breath, dropping his hand and leaning back on the bed.

  “It’s true.” I lower myself, kneeling on the floor. “You free me from all my insecurities, take away the loneliness I’d grown to accept, and make me feel like the young woman I forgot I was.” I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. “I’m not falling in love, Justin.” He flinches and my hold tightens on his hand. “Look at the painting. I’m completely enamored, head-over-heels, already there. It’s impossible for me to be more in love with you.”

  His eyes turn into wide green pools as he glances at the painting and then at me.

  I lift his hand and touch my lips to his knuckles. “Yes, you. I want to be with you. I want you to keep pulling me back into life, into you.”

  “Damn, Allie.” He heaves me up, draws me between his legs, and presses his face to my chest. He holds me tight. “I’m going to hyperventilate.”

  I slide my hands into his hair. “Now who’s freaking out?”

  He groans. “I was hoping you weren’t going to kick me to the curb.” He tilts his head up and studies me. “That you love me is…”—his hands clasp my back, gripping me tighter—“so damn amazing. I want to deserve your love.”

  “You do,” I say with conviction.

  Shaking his head, he gently kisses the side of my mouth that isn’t injured. “It’s like I’ve landed in another dimension. My own imaginary, perfect dimension.”

  “You’re here.” My hands tighten in his hair. “With me.”

  He glances at my swollen lip and sighs. “Let me sleep with you? Hold you? Help me find solid ground.”

  I smile at him. It hurts my lip a little, but I don’t mind. He’s so beautiful. It used to hurt sometimes to look at him, believing we could never truly be together, but now he’s all mine. I push him back onto the bed and fall on him with a laugh.

  “Yes. Yes. And please.”

  Chapter 33

  Justin

  I wake to bright morning light. I wake to the face of the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world. Her auburn hair spills across the pillow and my shoulder. Her leg is wrapped around mine. She’s soft and sweet in my arms. Digging my nose into her hair and breathing in the exquisite scent of her, I realize I love her with every cell in my body.

  That she loves me too is nothing but a miracle.

  Until I met her, I’d been a shallow, immature self-centered boy. She’s unknowingly made me a man. What’s important in life has finally clicked together like the last piece of a puzzle. And it’s in my arms.

  After watching her sleep for a while, I carefully untangle myself and make a quick trip to the bathroom. In minutes I’m back under the covers, content to hold her. As I’m thinking about how good it is lying here with her, Allie’s eyes flutter open. She blinks at me, then presses herself against my body and smiles sensually. “Morning.”

  “Morning to you, beautiful.” I grin. Here I’d been thinking I’d never spent this much time in a bed with a woman without sex, and it was great. But as her hand slides across my chest, I’m thinking sex would make it better than great.

  She pushes up on an elbow. “Give me a minute to go—” She pauses, noticing something beyond my shoulder. “Is it really eleven?”

  I crank my head around and glance at the clock. “Eleven fifteen to be precise.”

  “Oh no!” She flies out of the bed. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ at twelve for Sunday dinner.” She rushes out of the room, which leaves me staring at the empty doorway.

  Dejected but understanding, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on my shoes when she stands in the doorway a few minutes later.

  “You’re coming, right?”

  “To your parents’?” I ask incredulously.

  She gives me a don’t-be-an-idiot nod.

  The idea of meeting her parents disorients me. “Ah, I don’t have any clean clothes.”

  She shrugs. “Just throw your shirt in the dryer for a few minutes.”

  “What about Ben?”

  She comes over and starts tugging my shirt up. “With my feelings for you, it seems wrong keeping you a secret from him.” She yanks my shirt over my head. “We’ll have to take it slow in front of him.” She smirks at me, running a thumb over my nipple ring. “No sleepovers when he’s home.”

  Though I’m overwhelmed by the step she’s taking, her hands on my skin are making me forget everything else. “Keep undressing me on your bed, and we’re going to be late.”

  “I should have set the alarm,” she says wistfully.

  Taking in her tone, I ask, “Breakfast tomorrow?”

  Grinning, she curls her fingers around the waistband of my pants. “Oh, definitely.”

  Fearful of hurting her lip, I press my own lips to her forehead. “Go get ready. I’ll take care of my clothes.”

  Studying my body with a glint in her gray eyes, she stumbles back toward the dresser. “Okay.”

  Our gazes meet in the mirror as she hauls out clothes. She lets out a laugh and then a wistful sigh before heading to the bathroom. After taking turns—I was tempted to join her, but then we wou
ld definitely be late—in the shower, we’re out the door at five to twelve.

  In my car, Allie gives directions and then plucks out the small vial of cologne from the cup holder. As I’m turning out of her apartment complex, she opens it and breaths in the scent with her eyes closed. A dazed satisfaction comes over her features. I almost hit the curb, watching her.

  “What brand is this?” she asks almost drunkenly.

  “No brand,” I say while mentally storing the image of her expression.

  She cocks an eyebrow at me.

  “It’s custom made from a perfumer in Paris. I reorder it about once a year.”

  “Holy shit, Batman!” she says, and the sound of her cursing has me smiling. “Isn’t that expensive?”

  I shrug. “One day soon I’m going to take you there. Not that you don’t smell fantastic…”

  She frowns. “I don’t wear perfume. Probably just smell like soap and body lotion.”

  “Like linen and flowers,” I say, nodding. “A scent I’ve come to love. I’ll ask them to start with those two things.”

  She lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “You know I’d love to go to Paris, but I can’t let you take me.”

  “Why not?”

  “That would be overboard for even you.”

  “In less than two months when I turn twenty-one, I come into the money my grandparents left me. I plan on investing most of it, but a trip to Europe won’t even put a dent in it. And whether I deserve it or not, it’s mine. Let me share.”

  Her mouth drops. “You’re twenty?” she asks, almost making me laugh that my age is shocking her more than my inheritance. “I assumed twenty-one at least, with all the wine and bars.”

  “Almost twenty-one, but being in the band I rarely get carded.”

  “I’m two years older than you? That’s crazy.”

  I turn into the driveway of the address she gave me while she giggles.

  Putting the car in park, I turn to her. “You turned twenty-two a few months ago—it’s not even a year and a half.”

  “But still older,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the handle and pushes the door open.

  I don’t reach for the door handle next to me. I’ve never met any parents, and I know this is a huge step for her. “You sure about this?”

  Pausing, she studies me and then closes the door. Leaning across the console, she gently grips my face. “I love you, Justin. I want you to be part of my life. No one, not even my parents, can change that.” She leans closer.

  I pull back. “Besides your lip, we’re in your parents’ driveway.”

  “I don’t give a crap, just kiss me.”

  Though her fingers pull at my hair, I keep the kiss soft and gentle, but between our lips and tongues, there’s the soft whisper of everything to come.

  As we break off the kiss, I smirk. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Allie brings Ben out on the porch while I wait a few feet away on the stairs. He sits on the swing, picking at his shoelaces while she explains we’re dating. Her explanation covers that sometimes she and I will go out to dinner or the movies on our own and sometimes with him.

  His expression turns pensive. “Do we have to see kissing movies? I don’t like those.”

  While Allie laughs, I say, “Naw. We’ll let you pick. I’m not into those either.”

  Ben nods slightly and says, “Okay then.”

  Inside, the small house is homey and laced with the smell of something fantastic cooking. But the sight of her father with his arms crossed, standing between the living and dining room, is not as welcoming as the house. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, he glares at me in the same way he did when he found us making lunch in her apartment. Her mother, on the other hand, is giddy with excitement and rushes into the living room from the kitchen. With her graying auburn curls and wide smile, it’s easy to see whom Allie takes after more.

  I apologize for being late. Her mother waves a hand, saying Adam is always late. Before I can ask who Adam is, he comes through the door. I keep the surprise from my expression as I’m introduced to Allie’s brother and his wife, Veronica. Allie has never said anything about a brother. Other than wavy auburn hair, they look nothing alike. He shakes my hand while grinning at his sister.

  Her mother rushes everyone to a table covered with food. After a prayer—I’m late to fold my hands together; my family never prayed before dinner, and heck, we rarely ate dinner together—everyone talks and passes dishes. During the meal the talking continues. Adam has a new job. Ben was the star of his play on Friday. Allie’s mother is training a new secretary at the insurance office where she works. Allie might be taking on another tattooist at the shop. Her father describes fishing with Ben yesterday. Forks are pointed. Napkins tossed on plates to make points. Hands slapped on the table. On and on they talk and eat, comfortable and open with one another.

  Though I feel slightly out of place, I realize this is a normal, loving family. Something I knew existed outside of the cold, refined lives of my parents, but not like anything I’ve ever witnessed. I also realize how much I don’t know about the girl I’m in love with.

  After laughing at her father’s story about Ben tangling their fishing lines, she glances at me and then reaches under the table to squeeze my hand. You okay? she asks with the press of her fingers. I give her a smile and press my fingers against hers. The future of learning everything about her flashes through my mind.

  The future looks endlessly bright.

  Chapter 34

  Allie

  Across from me, Holly fills my beer and winks at me. Jake puts an arm around her. We’re standing at a tall table, waiting for the band to come out. After two pitchers of beer, they’re giggling and cuddling together. In a bar. At a table in front of the stage. Surrounded by people. Dorks. I take a sip of the beer, wishing Justin were here to cuddle with me so I could be a dork too. Though he’s probably backstage by now—Romeo called an emergency meeting before this show.

  It’s been two weeks since Justin had dinner with my parents. We’ve been together whenever possible, but there’s never enough time for us.

  With everything going on in my life, we’ve been slowly figuring things out. We’ve had breakfast—well, actually lunch, since breakfast never works—a couple of times over the past two weeks. He’s come to the shop with takeout for dinner. We took Ben to a movie together. We tried to study—we both have spring semester classes—but that didn’t work out very well. We just studied each other.

  Besides my busy life, he has the band, and we’ve both had appointments with lawyers. Mine is confident all my demands with Trevor will be met, especially after his two court dates and the temporary restraining order I asked for. Justin’s lawyer is pretty certain he’ll be fined, but he’s hoping to get Gabe off with probation and court-ordered anger management. Justin did have to drag Gabe to the lawyer.

  I take another sip of beer and try not to feel too envious when Holly and Jake start kissing.

  Though the venue is small, this show is big. Luminescent Juliet’s indie album launches tomorrow, and tonight is the kickoff. Justin has been grumbling all week about Romeo’s decision to do a small show to get the word out. But Romeo would not change his mind about keeping the gig invitation only.

  They’re playing only original music. There’s a team of volunteers, from the visual department at our university, that will be recording the show. Most everyone here has agreed to flood Facebook and Twitter and anything else across the Internet with show clips over the next few weeks. Romeo is obviously taking this seriously. I’m guessing Justin just wants to sing in front of a boisterous crowd.

  Her own camera ready, Riley waves to me from the side of the stage. Next to her, Chloe waves also. I raise my beer in a toast and they laugh. Justin invited me backstage too, but I like being in front of him. Sometimes when he sings, even in a roo
mful of people, it feels like it’s just the two of us—and the current of emotions between us.

  The lights dim and the crowd’s murmur swells as it pushes toward the stage. High-pitched whistles compete with loud shouts and claps. The stage stays dark and my stomach flutters with the anticipation of seeing Justin perform.

  The lights slowly come on and the band stands silent in front of microphones, except for Gabe, who sits behind the drums. Then they break into “Midnight.” One of my favorites. Justin has been loading their original songs on my iPhone and I have been listening to them every chance I get.

  Stepping to the microphone, Justin breaks into the fast, bluesy tune with his powerful voice. He’s looking hot in distressed jeans and a form-fitting black T-shirt that melds with the ink on his arms. My eyes devour him, and for a few seconds I don’t notice the music. Just Justin. Dark blond messy hair. Intense gaze. Hard jaw. Flexing inked biceps as he reaches for the microphone. Those eyes find me, and burn into me. Wow. I’m wishing the show were over and we were at my apartment. Alone.

  That’s it. I’m not letting him in next time unless he has his guitar.

  Next to me, Jake holds Holly while she sways in front of him as the band rips through one song after the next. Justin’s gaze finds me more than once and I can’t help smiling at him. People press behind us and bounce to the music. It’s kind of amazing, but the band sounds as good live as in recorded music on my phone.

  Partway through their performance, they change instruments and go acoustic. Justin has shared his fear of playing live acoustic songs with me, and though I know he’s nervous, they sound awesome. His voice is rich and deep, then lush and even. Riley once said something about his vocal range, which I didn’t understand at the time, but now hearing the changing pitches he effortlessly sings, I get it.

  Cameras move back and forth in front of the stage the entire time. The crowd is wild and totally into the music. Onstage, the band moves and plays like professionals. During the whole show, I can’t help believing tonight is the springboard for something huge. Tonight is going to catapult Luminescent Juliet into the mainstream.