The last time I remember seeing on my clock was 3:03 A.M. So when I start to wake up to voices in my dorm and see 8:12 A.M on my clock, on a Saturday morning, I’m instantly irritated.
I try to ignore them, but the hushed whispering almost makes it worse than if they were talking at a normal volume. I try to roll over and go back to bed, but when I move to roll over, I hear someone yell, “She’s awake!” I look up and see Craig just inches from my face, sitting on my bed.
“What the hell?” I huff out, just before I pull the blanket up over my face.
“C’mon, princess. Time to get up!” he exclaims, pulling the blanket down.
“It’s Saturday! And what the hell are you doing in my room?”
“Hailey let me in,” he dismisses, like it’s no big deal.
I search the room and when my eyes find hers I give her the dirtiest look I can manage with sleep-ridden eyes.
“What do you want?” I ask, turning back to Craig.
His smile fades. “Nothing. I brought you breakfast.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” He looks so sweet and innocent, but I know that’s the furthest thing from what he actually is.
“I could list a million reasons why not. Why would you just all of a sudden, randomly, bring me breakfast?”
“It’s not random,” he scoffs, “It’s a birthday breakfast.”
“My birthday is tomorrow,” I respond. “But how would you know anything about my birthday anyway?”
“I remembered.” He looks offended for a brief moment, but then his eyes brighten again. “And yes, I know its tomorrow. But, what I have planned will bring us well into the morning hours, so technically today will run into your birthday. So the celebration starts today.”
“Why would you plan anything for my birthday? What if I had plans of my own?”
“You don’t.”
“But what if I did? What if Tyler did?”
“He doesn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I talked to him.”
“And he just said he had nothing planned for his girlfriend on her birthday so go ahead and plan something?” I ask, skeptically.
“Pretty much.” He shrugs.
“I don’t believe you,” I insist.
“Okay… he said he was going to take you out to dinner on Saturday night because your parents are coming to take you to dinner on Sunday night on your actual birthday. So, I said why the hell would she want to go out to dinner two nights in a row? And he looked at me with that blank, dumb face that he gets. I’m sure you know the one. And so I made another suggestion.”
I’m speechless. Not over the sentiment, but because there’s just so much wrong with that whole statement. Why would he even ask Tyler what he had planned? Why would he care? And why on Earth would Tyler let Craig take over and plan something else? Instead of addressing all of the obvious questions, I just ask one. “What was your suggestion?”
“Nope. It’s a surprise,” he declares, handing me a bag and a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
I take both, but give him a skeptical look.
“It’s not poisoned. I promise.”
I take a sip of the coffee and relish in it. Then, I open the bag. Two Danish pastries, one lemon and one cheese. They’re my favorite, but I have no idea how he knew that. I barely ever eat breakfast. I close the bag back up, take another sip of coffee and then look right into his eyes. I know I should say thank you, but I don’t. I’m waiting for an explanation, something he could say that would explain this behavior. He’s not my boyfriend. This is something a boyfriend would do. Tyler should be here with my favorite breakfast, not Craig. Then again, my actual birthday is tomorrow so Tyler wouldn’t think to surprise me the morning before. Still, Craig should not be doing this. What the hell is he up to?
“You hijacked my birthday.”
“Yepp,” is all he says in return.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I just look at him for a moment. We look at each other. Then he jumps up off the bed, scaring me half-to-death.
“Be ready by ten, princess!” he yells as he leaves the room.
My mind instantly wanders to Tyler. What does he think of all this? Why didn’t he put a stop to it? Is he waiting for me to? Is he mad? I send him a text.
“Did you know Craig hijacked my birthday?!”
He doesn’t respond right away, so I figure he’s still sleeping, since it’s still early. I look over at Hailey who seemingly went back to bed, but I know better.
“Did you know about this?” I accuse her.
She rolls over, facing my direction. “I just found out last night. You know there’s no reasoning with Craig. He has it all planned out. Might as well just go along with it.”
“Is Tyler pissed?”.
“Honestly, he didn’t seem to care. I mean, it’s not like Craig left him out of it completely. He’s still invited.”
“Hailey, this is weird. I mean, it’s weird, right? Tyler is my boyfriend. Why the hell is Craig throwing me a birthday… thing? What is he planning anyway?”
“He wouldn’t tell me all of it. I only know about the get-together later tonight. And yes, I agree. It’s weird. But you’re going to love it.”
She rolls over again, to go back to sleep, so I grab my things and head for the showers. When I get back to my dorm, I see that Tyler texted back.
“I did. I’m sorry. Not much I could do about it. We’ll have fun tonight though. Honestly his plan is better than mine was anyway.”
I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. Tyler should be planning this. Or at least not allowing some other guy to. It’s like he doesn’t even care. But at the same time as I’m thinking that, I know it’s not the truth. The truth is that Tyler is just such a good guy that he doesn’t even realize there’s anything wrong with it.
As I’m getting ready, I wonder why Hailey isn’t. I debate waking her up, but ultimately I decide not to. Why do I need to be ready for ten o’clock on a Saturday morning anyway?
Its nine forty-five when Craig knocks on my door and I answer, still getting ready.
“You’re early,” I conclude, as I rush over to my closet to grab a sweater.
“Fashionably so.”
“It’s fashionably late.”
“I’m not late,” he says, confused.
“Forget it,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. I grab my favorite bracelets off of my bureau and start putting them on. “Where are we going and who else is coming?”
“I told you it’s a surprise.”
“Well, am I dressed okay?”
“No.”
I wasn’t sure how to dress so I kept it casual, pairing jeans with heels and a long-sleeved black shirt. I have a sweater to go over it because New England can be frigid in November. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Should I be dressier or more casual?”
“Neither. I just think you should be wearing less.”
“Less?” I question.
“Yeah, less. Nothing preferably.”
I sigh in defeat. “Let’s go.”
He leads me out to his truck parked on the street and helps me up into it. Why does this feel like a date?
“Can you at least tell me if anyone else is coming?” I ask him while he shifts gears.
“Right this second, no. It’s just us. They’re coming later.”
“Craig, seriously, where are we going? I’m kind of getting the impression that I’ve been kidnapped.”
He laughs out loud at that. “Okay, princess. I’ll give you a hint.”
I wait for him to answer, but his cell phone rings and he answers the call instead. I try not to listen, but our close proximity in the truck doesn’t give me much of a choice.
“Hey Bean,” he talks into the phone.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“When?”
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
“I promise,” he says softer.
“Lexie, don’t cry. I’ll see you soon.
I love you,” he says, hanging up the phone.
I wait for some kind of an explanation, but he just continues to drive. His mood seems to have shifted though. He seems upset, or maybe sad. I wonder what I should say, but I figure if he hasn’t tried to explain, it probably means it’s none of my business. But I can’t help but wonder – who is Lexie?
“You were gonna give me a hint,” I remind him after we’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes.
“Oh. Okay…” he trails off, thinking. “You told me before that you wanted to do something crazy and have fun.” He looks over at me with his usual smirk.
“I never told you that,” I insist.
“You did.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“You did. You were pretty intoxicated. But you still did.”
“Are you kidding me? You can’t take that seriously. I was drunk!”
He doesn’t answer, only laughs.
“Craig,” I plead, getting nervous. “What on Earth are we going to do?”
He just laughs louder, getting a kick out of my nervousness.
Chapter 9
He parks the truck in front of what looks like an old factory. There’s a sign on the front of it that reads, ‘SCARRED’ in big bold letters. What is he getting me into?
“C’mon,” he urges, practically dragging me along with him.
When he opens the door, I immediately know what this place is. The smell of rubbing alcohol and stale cigarettes overwhelm me and I turn around to bolt right back out the door, but Craig catches me by my waist and holds on tight.
“I’m not getting a tattoo! What are you, crazy?”
“They also do piercings,” he suggests with a smirk.
“No!” I hold firm.
“Okay, you don’t have to get anything. I would never make you do anything you don’t want to do, princess. In fact, I’m sure no one on this Earth could ever make you do anything against your will.”
“Then why are we here?” I ask skeptically, the panic slowly leaving my voice.
“I figured if you felt like being a little crazy and wanted to get something, it would be my treat. Your birthday gift. And if not, that’s fine too. I need to add to mine, so you can watch if you want. It won’t take long.”
“I’ll watch. Then we’re out of here.” I tap my foot and cross my arms.
He smirks at me and then walks away, heading over to some guy who looks to be in his early thirties. They bump fists and talk for a minute, but I don’t pay attention to what they’re saying because I’m too busy studying the guy’s skin. He has tattoos covering every inch, aside from his neck and face. When I make eye contact with him, I notice how strikingly blue his eyes are. Then I quickly turn my head in the opposite direction, embarrassed that he caught me staring. I start to walk around the shop, looking at the different drawings. Some are hung up on paper, others are drawn right onto the walls. And they have books and books of different tattoo ideas. I start to look through one and actually see a couple I would consider… if I ever actually wanted to get a tattoo, that is.
“You coming, princess?” Craig calls to me.
I look up to see him and the tattooed-covered guy making their way into a smaller room, so I follow behind.
“I’m Jay,” the guy introduces himself to me, holding out his hand.
“Hi. I’m Valerie.” I smile back, taking his hand and shaking it.
In the smaller room, there’s a table, a computer, and tons of designs all around us. I also notice a trophy on the shelf, for tattoo artist of the year, first place. The artist, Jay, notices me staring at it, so I make small talk. “First place, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you wouldn’t want someone who only got second place permanently marking up your body, right?” He chuckles.
“No. I guess not,” I respond, laughing with him.
“It’s Val’s birthday,” Craig tells Jay.
“No, it’s not,” I correct him. “It’s tomorrow.”
Craig ignores my correction and continues, “Don’t you think she should get a tattoo?”
“I’m not getting a tattoo,” I tell them both.
“We also offer piercings,” Jay says, mimicking what Craig said just minutes ago.
“No, thanks.”
“Are you scared of the pain?” Jay asks.
“No. It’s not that. It’s just so… permanent.”
“That’s the best part,” he argues. “A lot of people don’t get tattoos because they think they’ll regret them in the future. But how could you regret something you once wanted? Something that reminds you of a specific moment in time?”
I look up into his deep blue eyes and see nothing but kindness and sincerity. Maybe I’m judgmental, but I have to admit that I never would have thought a tattoo artist would be so soft and easygoing. I would have expected someone more rough around the edges and full of curse words. I guess sometimes people surprise you.
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I admit. “I don’t know what I’d get anyway though.”
“Whatever you like.” He shrugs, as if it’s that simple. “Whatever you want, really. It’s all about authenticity. Being yourself in a world trying to make you something else. Not conforming. Not caring what people think. Being unapologetically you and showing it off for the world to see. It’s like saying to everyone ‘See, at one point in time I was brave enough to express myself. Really truly express myself.’ And nothing’s cooler than that.”
“Wow. I never thought of it that way. You put quite the spin on it.” I smile at him.
“No spin, Valerie. I’m being honest. That’s what tattoos are all about, at least for me. Other people have deeper meanings, like your boy Craig over here.”
Craig narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head so slightly I wonder if I imagined it.
“He’s not my boy,” I mumble.
“Well, what I mean is some people get tatted up for loved ones, people who’ve passed, people they want to commemorate. Or people who are still with us, but just mean that much to us that we want them permanently with us forever. Everyone has different reasons.”
I look over at Craig with questioning eyes, wondering what the puzzle piece is for, or more importantly, who it’s for. I look down when I hear the soft buzz of the needle starting on his arm and when I look back up into his eyes, he’s looking right back at me.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him, seriously.
“Nah.”
“I mean… do you think it would hurt me?”
He raises his eyebrows in shock. “Is the princess actually thinking about getting a tattoo?”
“No. Well… maybe,” I confess.
“Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’? Didn’t you want me to get one? Isn’t that why you took me here?”
“I don’t care if you get a tattoo or not, princess. It’s about you doing something a little out of your comfort zone, but only if you want to.”
I take a deep breathe. “I want to.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I guess because I do want to do something crazy,” I admit, sheepishly. “I want to live in the moment for once. And I like the idea of it being a form of self-expression too.”
“What would you get?”
“It’s gonna sound stupid.” I cover my face with my hands, but Craig quickly lowers them back down.
“Princess, what do you want?” he asks in a softer tone.
“A falcon.”
“As in the WSC mascot?” He scrunches his face, not impressed.
“Yeah. I mean I know it’s stupid. I could fail out or transfer to another school, you never know. But… if I’m commemorating a moment in time, it makes sense. I’m changing here. I feel it. I’m not the same girl I used to be. And the whole ‘spreading your wings and learning to fly’ motto kind of fits too.”
He smiles and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s perf
ect.”
“Really? It’s not stupid?”
“No. At least, not after you explained it.”
“All set, Craig,” Jay announces, shutting the needle off and wiping away at the new wound.
“My turn,” I declare with a bright smile.
“Alright princess!” Jay exclaims.
“Dude, no. Not cool.” Craig narrows his eyes at him. “I’m the only one who gets to call her that.”
Jay laughs and then moves about, cleaning up after Craig’s tattoo.
“So, what does your tattoo mean?” I ask Craig.
He hesitates and I can tell he doesn’t want me to know.
“I just told you what I’m getting and why. It’s only fair,” I whine.
“Okay,” he laughs lightly. Then his smile fades as he becomes serious. “Alright…”
I give him a look, encouraging him to go on.
“It’s for Lexie.”
I want to ask him more about it, about her, but I can tell he doesn’t want to explain any further. I’m surprised he told me that much, And I don’t have the chance anyway, because Jay’s ready for me.
“I need you to sign these papers first,” he explains, handing me a clipboard.
I read through statement after statement, all of which pretty much just asserts that I won’t sue Jay for any type of bad reaction resulting from the tattoo. I sign it, hand it back, and take a deep breath, feeling the nerves finally hit me.
“Hop on in the chair,” Jay instructs. He holds up a couple different falcons he has already made up. I pick one diligently and then tell him I want it on my ankle. He puts it on like a temporary tattoo at first. Like the ones Hailey and I used to get when we were kids. We would love to put quarters in the machines that were filled with those little plastic balls that opened up and held a treasure inside. Our favorite treasures were the fake tattoos, although we only liked the flower ones. They had pirate ships, princesses, and sports ones too, and there was no telling which one would come out. We’d be bummed for the whole day if we didn’t get a flower.
The Story of Us Page 8
