9781631056314TattooedHeartsJolieNC

by Mika Jolie

  “You were watching me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “We all watch over you. That’s what we do.”

  Not exactly what she had hoped to hear. Realizing she stood no chance to win this banter, she quickly opted for plan B. The truth. What she wanted most in the world. To be kissed by him. She edged further into the room and leaned her elbows on the window sill, her denim shorts brushing against the dusty wall. “Fine. You were right,” she started in a low voice, her back to him. “I was practicing kissing because I’ve never been kissed.”

  “Go on.”

  “Cosmopolitan has a step-by-step guide on how to practice kissing and I was following the instructions.” She paused and inspected her battered red Converse, building courage to spill everything. “But it also says the best practice is with another person.” She turned to look at him. “Will you kiss me, Forrest?”

  “No,” he answered without a beat.

  The swift blow of rejection knocked every wisp of air from her lungs. Claire struggled to inhale, to exhale, to do anything. Stunned and disoriented, she swiftly turned her attention back to the window. The sun stung her eyes, they watered. She quickly batted away escaped tears.

  “Claire,” he said, his voice a bit more soothing. “You’re so young.”

  “I’m fifteen,” she said in a desperate voice caught between frustration and crying.

  “And I’m eighteen.”

  She whipped around and looked straight at him. “We’re only three years apart.”

  He smiled. “Right now, it feels like ten.”

  They stood, staring at each other in a companionable silence, broken only when Forrest let out a deep breath.

  “I’m leaving for college in a few days.”

  Although it was summer, the words chilled her spine. She needed to kiss him and let him see, feel everything she felt inside but could find no words to express. “What if I wasn’t fifteen?”

  “Still no.”

  The rejection, although gentler this time, still cut deep into her heart.

  “Am I that unappealing to you?”

  He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Claire.”

  She held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Most of the boys here are trying to figure out what to make of me. An African-American-Asian girl. Is she pretty or just weird-looking?” She shrugged with indifference, but deep down the quick glances here and there bothered her.

  “What do you care what others think? You’re beautiful.”

  An equal mixture of pure ecstasy and excruciating pain made her heart go pit-a-pat. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  He nodded. “Definitely.”

  “So why won’t you kiss me?”

  With quick strides, he came to stand next to her and gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You should be kissing boys your own age.”

  She looked into his eyes and her heart swelled from the emotion bottled inside. Feelings even she didn’t understand, let alone try to express. He gave her a quick smile then walked back to the door. The bitter taste of regret stung her tongue like a rusty razor blade. The moment she had planned, spent so many sleepless nights imagining, had slipped from her hands.

  He opened the door and turned to look at her once more. “When you do kiss your crush, I hope it’s everything you imagined it to be.” He smiled—a sweet, sexy smile that got her all flustered—and then he walked out of the barn.

  * * * *

  Rain lashed down on Claire in cold, icy pellets bit into her skin. Wet grass and dirt mushed under her shoes, slashing up her legs and staining the skirt of her dress. Focusing on Forrest, she quickened her pace. She had fallen asleep watching her favorite soap opera.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  She’d almost missed him.

  “Forrest,” she called after him, heart in her throat, fearful he would enter his parents waiting pick-up truck and drive away forever. “Forrest,” she screamed his name again, a dozen needles dancing in her stomach. She stopped, her breathing stuttered in her lungs, exhausted from fear.

  Please look at me.

  He slowed his steps and after a second or two he turned. “Claire,” he said, squinting.

  Her heart leaped with joy. She caught him just before his parents drove away to catch the ferry to Falmouth. Smiling, she ran forward, closing the distance between them, and said through ragged breaths, “You’re leaving.”

  “I know.” He looked over his shoulder at his parents’ truck. “What are you doing? It’s pouring.”

  She launched herself at him, strong arms clamped around her waist. “I love you,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut.

  For a minute neither moved, time stopped. They stood still, holding on to each other, their bodies drenched from the downpour. She shivered, not from the coldness of the rain but the string of electricity shooting through her veins. Her heart, like a fly in a cobweb with nothing to do, waited for his laughter to confirm how ridiculous she sounded. But it didn’t come. Sucking in a breath, she waited a little longer. Except for the huge raindrops splattering with charged energy, there was absolute silence.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked into the depth of his gray ones. A fluttery feeling took over her body. “Forrest.”

  He swept back her matted hair, and his lips cracked into a smile. “I’m your crush.”

  She shook her head. A crush was the lowest level of romance. Her feelings ran beyond that. “It’s not a crush.”

  “Claire, you’re fifteen.”

  The world around her started collapsing. “I’m in love with you,” she said emphatically.

  “It’s an infatuation.”

  No. No. This was bigger than an intense, naïve, adolescent admiration. She searched his face for any hint that just maybe deep down he believed her, only to come up short. Empty. Nothing. Feeling weak and hopeless, her shoulders slumped. She was losing this battle. “You’re going to have sex in college.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “Claire.”

  “I know about sex.”

  “Jesus, Claire, if you’re having sex with some douchebag…”

  “I’m not having sex,” she cried, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “But I know what it is. I don’t want you doing it with girls in college.” She grabbed his arms. “Please wait for me.”

  “What makes you think I haven’t had sex?”

  Raindrops, hard and thick, hit her face like bullets. With a quick brush of her hand, she swept matted hair away from her eyes. “I overheard you telling the guys you were waiting for that person.” She was making a fool of herself but at this point what did it matter. “You want it to be special…your first time.” She swallowed the panic choking her. “I want to be your first, Forrest, and you mine. I love you.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. His eyes became shadowed. Hope bubbled in her stomach. And then he sighed, took a step back and broke their connection. Her heart dropped all the way to her toes.

  “This is a crush. It will pass,” he said quietly.

  “No.” He owned her heart. Forever. It didn’t matter she was only fifteen. Some things only happened once in a lifetime and had nothing to do with age. “Promise me, you’ll at least try to wait for me.”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry, Claire.” He touched her face and stared at her for a long beat. “One day you’ll look back at this and laugh.”

  “No,” she choked.

  “Yes.”

  Their gazes locked. The pitiless rain continued thrashing her skin.

  Forrest took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I have to go.” He released his grip and walked to his parents’ truck. For a brief moment, he hesitated and looked back. Hope stirred low in her belly, then he tossed his backpack in the truck and shut the door.

  Nausea pained her stomach, heart and chest. She had waited for this moment to come forward with her deepest feelings and bring to life those three words she’d been harboring.

  She fought a
nd lost.

  Her world collapsed.

  Emotionally bankrupt, she stood in dazed isolation and took the onslaught of the chilled rain. Her wet dress hugged her, its weight heavy and oppressing. With blind eyes to the world, she stared at the shadow of the pick-up taillights until they faded. It was hard to tell when she started crying and even more difficult to discern between her tears and the rain as she turned her face to the sky above. Her eyelids fluttered to deflect the water, she wanted to move, to run, but her legs were weak and incapable of doing anything. So she stood in the pelting rain and let her body and mind drown in the cold, wet afternoon.

  Chapter Two

  “All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name.”

  Andre Breton

  Chappaquiddick, Martha’s Vineyard, Eleven years ago…

  Two years after Forrest left her broken, Claire was still his puppet. Technically she was single, but her heart was hooked, taken by someone she couldn’t call her own. Sure, she’d managed to establish a little distance between them whenever he visited the island, but only out of embarrassment. A sanity check.

  She even dated here and there, kept up appearances, but nothing that could be construed as boyfriend-girlfriend status. As the wolf pack’s adopted sister, the major cock block, she was untouchable. Threats of major bodily harm came with a promise to be inflicted on anyone who dared toy with her heart. Since she had no interest in dating anyone other than Forrest, the beyond reach pedestal suited her fine..

  Those who were brave enough to ask her on a date were either too clingy or after one thing. She didn’t like the band geeks she sang with. The boys from the debate club always wanted to discuss the variances between the Japanese and American culture. Yeah, no thanks. She didn’t even know her father. And the jocks—they barely looked at her and she barely looked at them. Besides who could hit a fastball the farthest, topic of conversation was zilch. Well, Forrest was a jock, but he was also smart. Brains and brawn…the perfect combination to make her heart do that pitter-patter dance.

  On her bed, lying flat on her stomach, with her body stretched out long, Claire clicked on the mouse. The note reappeared on her computer screen and her heart went crazy.

  Dear Claire,

  I just sent my last final to my professor. It’s late and I’m sitting in the library…thinking about you. Us. Our friendship. Two years ago, it broke my heart to walk away from you crying in the rain. That image is tattooed in my heart. Like an old movie reel, I’ve replayed that scene at will…over and over. I’ve searched for words to apologize, to explain, but the words never seemed right. I hope you don’t hate me.

  Our relationship has been a bit strained since that moment, and I hope we can get past it and continue as we used to be. You mean a lot to me, much more than you will ever understand.

  Anyhow, I’m coming home for Christmas break. Charles has asked my parents if I can spend a day or two in Chappy. I hope you and I will be able to hang out.

  By the way, I wear glasses now. I sent you a picture, not sure if you received it as I never heard back from you. I thought I’d hate them and feel like a nerd, but let’s be real—I’m the smartest out of the bunch.

  Well, I won’t write a journal, although I could go on and on. I guess I don’t want to say goodbye. I miss you. I miss your smile, your laughter, and all that you are.

  Forrest

  In the last week, she must have read the note a thousand times and had yet to grow tired of it. She held on to each word, analyzing them for hidden meaning. She clicked open the photo folder. A picture of Forrest with his new glasses filled her computer screen. Dressed in a dark gray hoodie and cargo pants, he looked smart and so damn sexy.

  Did he regret not kissing her?

  He said he missed her, surely that meant…

  She pushed the thought–hope–aside and walked across her room to retrieve her jeans and the Northeastern sweatshirt he’d given to her. She slipped her socked feet into her tennis shoes and scrunched her hair into a ponytail.

  Ready. Set. Go!

  Forrest was in Chappy until tomorrow. He said he wanted to hang out and she knew where he’d be. She’d waited, timed it perfectly until she knew he’d be alone.

  She tiptoed past her mother’s bedroom, down the stairs as quietly as possible, holding her breath the whole time until the door closed behind her. Claire stepped into the blackness of the winter night and scurried across the backyard to the large oak tree. She looked up. At the very tippy top, the tree house sat with magnificence. A miniature home Charles had custom designed and built for the boys.

  Forrest was up there.

  A sharp twist rattled her gut. Under the inky sky, she pressed a hand to the nervous spot in her stomach and looked around until she found what she’d been looking for. A small swing hung at the bottom, rocking with the whistling wind. Charles added it for her later after the boys nailed a sign to the tree. The big, red letters still read Girls Not Allowed. This means YOU Claire!

  From the base of the tree, she looked up at the house. The deck was built high in the trees with no stairs, halfway to the top a short ladder hung precariously a few feet off the ground. If she wanted to go up, she had to climb up.

  Well, she was about to break their rule. Not for the first time, since she’d been practicing whenever possible.

  Claire positioned herself on the rock underneath the tree, jumped and grasped onto an overhanging branch. Her body swung, her legs flailed beneath her as she grappled for leverage. With a push, she hoisted herself up. Step by step, grab by grab, she clambered up and moved closer, ignoring the scuff marks and scratches on her hands from the rough bark. Adrenaline coursed unchecked, urging her to go forward. Fight or flight. Stand or run. Halfway up the tree, she eased her body onto the small ledge and braced herself for the look on Forrest’s face when he realized she’d broken the protocol. Had Jason been there, he’d probably shove her down. Good thing he was out with his latest flavor of the month.

  After a few more steps, she reached her destination. Thoughts scattered, too excited to think, she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and froze. Forrest stood by the pool table with a beer in his hand. He wore a pair of loose black sweats with the Northeastern University logo, battered sneakers, and a T-shirt plastered to his flat abs and broad chest. Though his hair was rumpled and black glasses framed his eyes, he'd grown into his already-striking features, with bone structure now well-defined and perfectly symmetrical. He looked strong, muscular, and more beautiful than ever.

  He was…manly.

  At twenty, his groupies had expanded beyond teenage girls. Older women flirted more openly now whenever he returned to the island. The few times she’d been around Forrest, his adherent followers’ eyes would flick from her to him and back again. Cool and composed, she’d gladly returned their contemptuous stares.

  Forrest’s head jerked up and their gazes locked. He placed the pool cue on the table and took a swig of his beer. His eyes never wavered from where she stood.

  “In your email.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “You said you wanted to um…spend time together.”

  His hooded gaze swept over her. Feeling a bit self-conscious under his searching eyes, she brushed loose strands of hair from her face. She peered at her appearance–her sweatshirt hung haphazardly on her frame, her denims now frayed. She bit her lower lip and frowned at the worn edge of her sneakers. She looked ragged and unkempt, definitely not the way to go when attempting to seduce your crush.

  “You broke a tree house rule,” he said, voice low and rough.

  Claire gulped. Time to say hello to her good buddy, rejection. She was all too familiar with that uninvited houseguest. “Should I leave?”

  His lips twitched. “Close the door, Claire. It’s cold outside.”

  She focused on the beer bottle dangling from his hand. “You’re drinking.”

  It wasn’t a question, but for confirmation, he swallowed another large gulp.

/>   “You’re not twenty-one yet.” Damn it! She sounded like a scared virgin. Let’s add that to the list of not the image to go for in the art of seduction.

  He smiled. “Don’t tell anyone and I won’t tell your mother you snuck out of the house to come up here to be with me.”

  There was something in his expression, the way he spoke, that sent a rush of heat along her spine. “I…”

  He placed the beer on the edge of the table, picked up the pool cue and aimed. Complete focus and accuracy. “Don’t worry, I’m not drunk and I promise not to touch you,” he said after making the shot.

  Too bad. She wanted to be touched. Claire closed the door behind her.

  “We sneak beer up here.” He pressed one finger over his lips. “Charles and Victoria can’t know, or your mom.”

  “What else do you sneak up here?”

  He tore his attention from the pool table and looked at her. “You mean who. You want to know if we bring girls up here.”

  She didn’t care about what Jason, Blake, or Adam did. As good looking as they were, she didn’t want them. “Do you?”

  “Girls are not allowed, remember?”

  Something loosened in her chest. Relief.

  “Do you play pool?”

  “I played once.” She’d been terrible, but no need to divulge inconsequential little tidbits of information.

  He came to stand next to her. “On a date?”

  He was so close to her, all six feet plus inches of masculine strength, making it impossible to breathe, much less think. So she nodded. He was silent for a moment, then to her surprise a faint smile curved his lips as he handed her the pool cue.

  “Play with me.”

  “I’m not very good.”

  “I’ll teach you.” He tipped his head forward. “Come on, let’s play and talk.”

  Excitement bubbled up inside Claire’s stomach, her champagne cork ready to burst. She took the pool cue from him and moved to the other side of the table. “Do we need to break?”

  “Let’s finish this round as a warm-up for you. You can have–” He examined the table. “Solids.”