"A lot, a lot." I ran my hand up my arm, indicating that no inch of skin was considered off limits.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Like neck and fingers and everything?"
"I don't know about those yet. I do like other people with it, but I'm not sure for me yet."
"Don't do anything you're not sure about."
"I won't."
"What about your face?" she asked, cringing?
"Again, I like it on other people, but I'm not sure it's for me." I paused for a second and when she didn't speak I asked, "Are you mad at me?"
"Of course not, sweetheart. I love you no matter what."
She looked at me, trying to imagine what I'd look like. "It'll be like that girl from American Pickers," she said. It was a show she enjoyed watching, and I could tell she took comfort in equating my tattoos with someone she liked on TV.
"Yes, exactly like the girl on Pickers," I said.
"I hope you're going to a place where they sterilize those needles, baby."
I laughed to myself thinking that's precisely what I thought she'd say. "I'll be careful, I promise."
"So, can you try on the swimsuit?"
"Oh, you really bought me a swimsuit? I thought that was just a trick to get me to tell you about my ink."
She laughed. "It was a trick, but I did really buy it, so I guess both are true."
"What color is it?"
"I got black so it wouldn't clash, but you can bring it back if it doesn't work."
"Did you seriously buy me a suit to coordinate with tattoos you weren't even supposed to know I had?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
"I love you too, honey."
The suit fit me perfectly. It was a black two-piece with boyshorts and a top that was more of a sports bra. Both of them were edged with a little lace that was the only feminine touch. It was simple and flattering, and I honestly couldn't have done a better job if I'd pick one myself.
My parents left two days later. Connor had been really busy with his work with the senator, and was unable to see them again before they went back.
It was the following Thursday when I saw him again. Megan knew he was coming and agreed to stay out of the house to give us some time together. She took Thor with her, and I was in a quiet house when he got there. I'd already come to terms with the fact that I might be losing my virginity that evening. I hadn't told Connor my intentions just yet because somewhere inside I was slightly scared to say it out loud. I hinted a little at it by texting things that were slightly more provocative than usual, but never came right out and said I wanted to have sex.
He showed up with a flower in his hand—this time it was one single sunflower. "Aw, thank you," I said, taking it when he held it out.
He handed it to me and then stepped in for a hug. I caught myself melting into his arms. He smelled really good and was classically handsome.
"I can't believe I've been living here almost a week and it's only the second time I'm seeing you," I said.
"I'm sorry I was busy this week," he said.
"It's no biggie. I had to go to the DMV and other nonsense like that this week anyway."
"Did you start work at the fabric store?"
"Not yet. I start Monday."
He stared down at me. "You're so fucking hot," he said, running his thumb over my temple.
"You're not so bad yourself," I said.
He kissed me. It was a hot, hard kiss that came down on me like a hammer. I pulled back in surprise. "Whoa," I said.
"I can't take it anymore," he said. "I want you so bad."
"I want you too," I said. "I just didn't know how fast we were gonna move."
"We don't have to go all the way if you're not ready, but I thought we were definitely going to mess around." He stared at me with a look that said he'd be extremely disappointed if we didn't mess around.
"Yeah, I mean I definitely assumed we'd mess around," I said. And just like that, his lips came down on mine again—only harder this time. He was an extremely rough kisser, and I caught myself wondering if he was weird for doing it or if I was weird for not liking it. I told myself that maybe it was his sexual experience, and I needed to be open-minded and try new things. I kissed him back, and he let out a moan.
"Oh shit, Charlotte. Take me to your bed."
"I thought you said—"
"It doesn't mean we're having sex."
I messed around with Connor for the next hour. I almost agreed to have sex with him, but ultimately decided against it. It was the same thing that had happened in the past. I'd consider doing it and would put myself in a situation where it was feasible, and then I'd change my mind at the last minute.
In Connor's case, it was because he was so rough when he was messing around with me. I almost told him to take it easy, but I thought that would be awkward since I pretended to like it at first. Not only did he kiss me with a bruising force, but he also grabbed at me and pinched me as we kissed. He moaned when he did it and I think he wanted me to act like I liked it as well, but it kind of hurt.
At one point, after most of mine and all of his clothes were shed, he put his hand down my panties and without warning, put at least one finger inside me. I wasn't ready for him to do that, and rather than feeling good, which it should have, it was intrusive. I managed to turn out of his grasp. He started to object, but I reached out and took his penis in my hand. I gripped it and went to work, sliding up and down.
Within two minutes, the whole thing was over. We put our clothes on, and sat down in the living room where he turned on the TV and set it to a baseball game. He acted like our situation was the most normal thing in the world, but I honestly didn't know how I felt about it.
Part of me was freaked out by the fact that I didn't really dig the way he apparently had sex, and another sick, twisted part of me felt almost proud that I'd made it through that. It was almost as if I felt challenged to make myself understand it and maybe even learn to like it somehow. I struggled to know what I felt. I had a love/hate relationship with Connor. I was relatively sure I'd have a few bruises from that experience, and I wasn't even sexually satisfied, but even then, I looked at Connor, who was sprawled out on the couch, and thought I just couldn't make myself not like him. He was wealthy, smart, driven, and handsome, and so what if he liked to go a little hard? It wasn't like he hurt me.
He stayed over until after dinner. I boiled some spaghetti and poured sauce over it, and we both ate a bowl of it before he went home. He was so sweet and normal after I gave him that hand job, that by the time he left, I doubted myself for ever questioning him. I had to trust the guy I'd gotten to know for the last six months over the phone. I was sure we would have no problems getting in sync sexually once we'd had a little more time to get to know each other.
Chapter 7
I'd been in Miami for just over a week, and was feeling settled in my new place. Megan spent a lot of time at Rory's, which I was fine with, but liked it when she was home since I'd fallen in love with her dog. Thor was a white German Shepherd who was trained by professionals before he ever came to Megan. He was a Christmas gift from Rory, and was meant to win Megan's heart. It worked. Megan fell madly in love with the dog and the boy, and the rest was history.
I was glad Megan was happy; she deserved it. My only regret was that Thor went with her when she stayed the night at Rory's, which judging by the past week, was quite often. That was all right, though, since my seventeen-year-old cousin Steven popped over whenever he felt like it. I came out of my room the other day to find him sprawled out on the couch watching TV, and Megan wasn't even at home.
Steven talked like a rapper one hundred percent of the time. Sometimes it was more exaggerated than others, but even when he toned it down, he was a total gangsta. He's hilarious, and I didn't mind his company, so it was okay with me that he made himself at home in the guesthouse.
I started work the following Monday, and Megan and Steven were sit
ting in the living room when I got home afterward. "How'd it go?" Megan asked as I opened the door.
I sighed and let my shoulders slump as I kicked off my shoes. "Amazing," I said.
"Oh, you scared me for a second there."
"No, it was great, I’m just overwhelmed by all the information I took in today. I don't think she realized how little I knew about fabrics and sewing… or maybe she did, and she just had faith I could hang in there. Either way, I'm pooped." I crossed to the couch, and plopped on the end of it, near Steven's feet.
"You just need to smoke a blunt," he said. "You want me to roll you one?"
I knew he was totally serious, and right about then, I was in the mood to take him up on it. "Go ahead and roll one up, but do a little one or I'll eat everything in the house."
"Yesss," Steven said, as he sprang from a lying to a sitting position and dug a bag out of his pocket. He went to work doing whatever special prep work it took to get his blunt ready.
"Are you glad you took the job?" Megan asked, noticing my exhaustion.
"I've never been more glad of anything in my life," I said. "I really love it in there, and feel inspired to learn more and get good." I paused. "I think that's why I'm so tired," I continued. "I love it so much, I feel like I can't learn fast enough. I'm frustrated with how little I know. My boss is the coolest lady in the world. She's a real artist, and I'm inspired already. She's seriously awesome, I can't wait for you to meet her."
"You can invite her to the birthday party at Tom's this weekend."
I said, "What birthday party?" at the exact same time that Steven said, "Did you say Tom's?" and Megan didn't hear either of us.
"One question at a time," she said, laughing at us.
"Tell us about the party," I said, gesturing with my hand for her to continue.
"Drake just had a birthday and Angel's is this week. Yours is next week," she said, looking at me. "So we were just thinking we could have one big birthday bash."
I shook my head nervously, not wanting to be one of the birthday people. "I'll go for Drake and Angel's birthday, but don't tell them anything about it being mine."
"I'm obviously goin', huh Megan?" Steven asked.
"I already told everyone your birthday is next week," she said, ignoring her brother.
"I'm goin' to that Megan," Steven said.
"Oh, please don't say it's my birthday. I'd rather just celebrate theirs," I said.
"Quit fuckin' with me, Megan. Just tell me whether or not I get to fuckin' go to the party."
"Yes, Steven," she said in a frustrated tone. "I wouldn't have mentioned it in front of you if you weren't invited. Tom said to ask anyone we wanted." She looked at me. "That's why I told you to invite your boss."
"Can I invite Connor?" I asked.
"Definitely," she said.
"Can I invite Alex?" Steven asked. Megan narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't push it."
"What? You told Charlotte she could invite everyone in Miami."
"You're not inviting Alex. You guys are seventeen, and I don’t want to spend my night wondering what kind of trouble you're getting into. You're lucky I'm inviting you." He sucked air through his teeth in an annoyed way but then his expression went neutral as he held the newly formed blunt to his lips and lit the end of it. Megan and I only took a couple of hits, but Steven had no problem finishing the rest.
Megan opened the windows and lit some incense when we were done so the house wouldn't smell like a Wiz Khalifa concert, and Steven laughed at her and gave her a hard time about what a shame it was to rid the place of such a pleasing aroma.
***
The week went by really fast. I got a small tattoo on Tuesday just to check out that guy (who I ended up loving). Then I had to work Wednesday and again on Friday, which was the night of the party.
Blake reluctantly agreed to come, but only with the condition that she drove herself since she was only planning on staying a short while. She insisted it was silly for someone her age to come to a party with my friends, but I coaxed her until she finally agreed.
Connor agreed to come also. He was really busy, and we didn't get to spend a ton of time together, so I was excited about seeing him. He and Blake both had plans to meet me at Tom's, and Megan was already there, so I went alone.
It was just before six when I arrived. I rang the doorbell and stood there nervously, waiting for someone to let me in. "You're late," I heard someone say when the door opened a crack. I could tell by the accent that it was Angel before I even caught sight of him. The door swung open and he propped himself up on the frame, staring down at me casually.
"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" I asked, giggling a little.
"Where's your date?"
"He's coming."
He looked me over appraisingly. "It's a pool party. Where's your bathing suit?"
"I'm not swimming," I said. "I'm healing a tattoo."
His eyebrows rose. "What'd you get?"
"It's just a little traditional flower." I pulled my shirt back and let him see the little red flower on my chest, near my collarbone. He stooped to take a closer look, and his proximity had my head swimming. He looked fierce compared to Connor, and given what Connor was capable of in the bedroom, Angel seemed flat-out scary. He got close enough to me that I turned my head to the side. I breathed in, and couldn’t help but notice his clean, manly smell mixed with a slight tinge of alcohol. It was a glorious combination—or maybe it was other things about him that were glorious and the smell just added to it. Either way, I was struggling to breathe regularly as he inspected the tattoo.
"Are we going inside?" I asked, unable to take it any longer. Then suddenly, he burst into a smile and yelled a phrase in Spanish that was directed at the people who were walking up behind me. They spoke back to him in Spanish and he responded before pushing me to the side so they could pass us and come into the house. I looked at the people who'd just passed me, wondering why they gained entry when I couldn't. I cocked my head at him. "Are we going in?" I repeated.
He stared at me, and I had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but closed it again like he thought better of it. Finally, he just stepped to the side and swung an arm out, inviting me inside. I could hear classic rock from the door, but it got louder when we rounded the corner into the living room. I could see about twenty people there, which surprised me since the party was supposed to start at six, and it wasn't even quite that time yet.
"Wow, how many people are coming to this thing?" I asked.
"Who knows," he said. His voice seemed distracted, and I turned to see that he was smiling and high-fiving someone who had just approached him on his right.
"What's going on, cabron?" he asked the guy. They hugged and Angel continued, "I didn't see you come in."
"I came through the back," the guy said. I recognized him as Mack, the guy who delivered Thor to Megan last Christmas, but I didn't mention it since I was sure he wouldn't remember.
"Charlotte this is Mack," Angel said.
I smiled and held out a hand, which Mack shook.
"Who's cabron?" I asked.
Mack laughed. "Yeah, Angel," he said, "Who's cabron?"
Angel smiled and explained, "It's just something we say all the time in Puerto Rico—it's like buddy, or man, or dude, or whatever."
"It means bastard," Mack said smiling at Angel.
"Not to us, cabron." He rolled his R when he said it and I smiled at the sound.
"Cabron," I said, testing it out. I said it with a Spanish accent, and Angel glanced at me with an approving smile. I had a small bag I'd made strapped over my shoulder, and I felt my phone vibrate in it. I started digging right away.
"My friends are coming," I explained. "I should get this."
Angel said something to Mack while I focused on retrieving my phone. I stared down at the screen expecting it to be Connor or Blake saying they wanted me to meet them out front. It was Connor, but he wa
sn't asking me to meet him, he was cancelling on me—again. I could feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I was so frustrated. It wouldn't have been a big deal if I hadn't already mentioned that he was coming, but now everyone knew I was expecting him, and here he was, standing me up again.
It was pretty selfish of me to be frustrated when I should be feeling bad for him. His text said whatever he ate for lunch gave him food poisoning and he'd been throwing up for the past three hours. I took a deep breath and put my phone back into my purse without responding in hopes that Angel and Mack wouldn't notice my mood shift.
"I'll catch up with you in a little bit," I heard Angel say as Mack walked away. Angel looked at me. "The tattoo looks great, by the way. I didn't get to tell that to you a minute ago."
"Thanks," I said, faking a smile.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing."
Angel stared straight into my eyes. His were so dark that I almost couldn't distinguish the iris from the pupil. I let my eyes roam over his face just as I'd done the night we met, following the line of his jaw and tracing the curves of his wide lips.
"If you want me to kiss you again, all you have to do is ask," he said. "I'd be happy to do it."
"D-do what?" I stuttered. "Why'd you say that?"
"Because you were staring at my mouth."
"No I wasn't."
We both knew I was lying.
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"I have a boyfriend," I said.
"He's not much of one."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you're not happy."
I narrowed my eyes right back at him as if he had no business assuming that about me. "What makes you say that?"
He gave me a resigned shrug. "I don't know."
I sighed sadly and looked at the ground when I said, "You might be right just this one time, but it's only because I just found out that he can't make it. He's really sick."
"I wish he'd drag his sick ass over here so I could beat the shit out of him for making you sad."
"I'm not sad. I'm fine with it. It's really not that big of a deal."
"So you don't care if he's here or not." he said, as if it was the only logical assumption. I just stood there and stared at this gorgeous, dark son of a pirate, thinking at that moment that I didn't really give a flip about Connor. I smiled. "I guess there's no sense in letting it spoil the party for me," I said. "Happy birthday, by the way."
Tattoos and Angels Page 5
