by E. K. Blair
I looked around the room to make sure no one could hear us. I didn’t know why I wanted to tell him about my past, but I did. I said, “Truth is I’ve never had a healthy relationship with a guy.” My hand clenched, remembering the pain of being second choice. “This guy Drew . . . we had something good, but it got all screwed up. Before it all fell apart, I’d thought we’d end up together, you know, married someday.”
“They say timing is everything,” he snapped, like he was angry.
What the hell had I said to piss him off?
I ignored him and watched Teddy take pictures of Sebastian and Vixen as they worked on a song together, ironing out the chords. I thought about how Sebastian had accepted me when I told him about my word problem. Would Leo accept me, too? He seemed to appreciate Teddy for who he was.
“Sebastian’s a great person. You’ve done well with him,” I murmured. “Out of all this, I’m glad I met him.”
“Right,” Leo said, his eyes following mine to Sebastian. “Right,” he repeated, but he didn’t sound quite as sure. Something in the tightness of his face didn’t quite fit his nonchalant response.
Chapter 7
Nora
“Forget dressing slutty for a guy; just lick an ice cream cone in front of him.” –Nora Blakely
“How about a unicorn or— Oh, look at this little cutie. A flying baby kitten!” Mila said, pointing to something in one of the tattoo shop’s image books. I looked over to see a tiny purple cat with bright yellow wings.
“A cat with wings? Seriously. That’s just freaky,” I said, shaking my head at her.
She harrumphed and turned the page. “Tattoos are forever, my ink-happy friend. Whatever you get, you’ll have it when you’re old and wrinkly and rolling around the nursing home in your wheel chair. I’d rather have a cute cat than one of those skull and cross bones you’ve been looking at.” She put her hands on her hips. “Plus, it’s going to hurt. It’s a sharp needle poking your skin like a thousand times.”
I chuckled, imagining her nose twitching in the universal sign for danger in bunny language.
“And, I saw this show on True TV about this guy that got a tattoo on his back and then died three days later from ink poisoning,” she added, tapping her fingers against the glass case we leaned against.
I snorted. “Stop watching that crap channel. It’s turning your brain to mush.”
Her mouth opened. “Stop? Are you insane? Cheaters is on True TV! I’m addicted to seeing people screw around on their significant others.”
“And you call me crazy.”
“Yeah, ’cause you’ve taken up drinking and breaking the law. And now you want a tattoo? You’re like this whole other person.” she said, waving her hands at me. “I’m afraid of what’s next.”
Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.
“Decided yet?” the tattoo girl asked us with a bright smile, setting her elbows on the counter to talk to us. With her bleached out spiked hair and the tatted roses and vines she had on her arms, she looked like an exotic bird. I decided tattoo girl was beautiful.
Then I saw the tiny bump underneath her shirt.
“Are you licensed to do nipple piercings?” I asked as Mila let out a loud gasp.
“Yep, do ’em every day. And we just got some new jewelry in. Take a look,” she said, pulling a case of shiny silver jewelry from underneath the counter. She picked up one that had two balls on the sides. “This here is the barbell and the most common for guys. And this here,” she said picking up a tiny ring, “is the silver ring, which the ladies seem to like.”
My eyes went to her tight blue T-shirt. “Which one do you have?”
She picked up a tiny pair of angel wings. “This,” she said pointing to the etched feathers on the wings. “They’re new and totally sweet,” she said mischievously, “and my boyfriend loves to play with it.”
“I want it.”
Mila grumbled and put her head in her hands.
The shop girl smiled. “Great. I’m Shayla, and I’m the resident female piercer around here.” She cocked her head and looked down at the image books. “But I thought you were looking for a tat today.”
“I want the piercing first and the tat later,” I said, thrilled at my decision to be in control of my own body. For too long, I’ve let others dictate everything: how to eat, how to dress, how to smile, how to walk, how to pretend.
“Okay, then, come on back here, and we’ll get set up.” She glanced over and smiled at Mila as she led me down the hall. “Does your friend want to come and watch?”
Mila’s face whitened, and I arched an eyebrow at her. I loved her, but she was a weenie.
She exhaled heavily but followed me, her hair bouncing. “Just because I’m curious, doesn’t mean I approve.”
Shayla had me take my shirt and bra off so she could study my breasts. I reclined on a chair while she touched my nipples with gloves on. “Your nipples are a good size. You’re not planning to breastfeed anytime soon, right?” she asked.
Mila laughed out loud. “God, can you imagine either of us with a baby?”
I shook my head dazedly, picturing me with a baby, breastfeeding. Then I imagined Mother’s face if I came up pregnant. It would be her proof that I really was a whore. I imagined all the nasty names she’d call me. I pictured myself in a televised beauty pageant, wearing an evening dress that stretched tight across my swollen belly. Knowing her, she’d turn it around and use it to her advantage by creating a news story out of it: “A Parkie Girl’s Story of Being a Whore.”
Shayla briefly explained about the healing process and gave me a packet about caring for the piercing. I signed a release form.
“Is it gonna hurt?” I asked, watching as she set out her instruments.
“God, Nora, you’re putting a needle in your boob. Of course, it’s gonna hurt,” Mila muttered.
Shayla nodded. “Yep, it will, but the worst is only about five seconds, then it eases up. You can do anything for five seconds, right?”
I scoffed, thinking about those measly five seconds. I’d endured much more pain, for a lot longer. So yeah, nipple piercing, not a big deal.
I nodded, and Shayla pulled out the forceps and needle. Mila gave a little squeak and scurried out the door. She wouldn’t be back.
Shayla cleaned my breast with a cold cotton ball, and I watched as she tugged and extended the nipple and then marked it half way between the top and base with a black marker. Once she had the mark on, she clamped it firmly with the cold forceps. I sat tense as she pushed the needle through, quickly following with the jewelry. A stinging pain hit me, and I clenched my teeth, trying to hold my breath until it passed. Instead, I thought about Leo, and how he said he saw the strength in me. She wiped the blood off my breast and gently attached the silver angel wings on either side. I let out a deep breath, thankful it was over.
“I’m not gonna set off any metal detectors, am I?” I said, staring down at my breast, liking how the florescent lights glinted off the silver wings.
She patted her chest. “I haven’t yet,” she said, grinning broadly, and I saw she had a cute little space between her two front teeth. An imperfection like that would drive Mother insane. “You’re a happy person,” I commented without thinking as I got up and carefully pulled my shirt on. I stuffed my bra in my purse.
She eyed me strangely. “Just because I have a lot of piercings and tats, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”
“No, no. I just meant, I watch people a lot, and ever since we came in, you’ve seemed peaceful and—” I stopped talking and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, my mouth has no filter today.”
She shuffled around, cleaning up the gauze and paper. “That’s okay,” she said a few moments later. “I am happy. My boyfriend and I just got engaged this week, so I guess, maybe you saw that.”
I laughed nervously, glad the awkwardness had faded somewhat.
We walked out together and back to the front of the store where I found Mil
a, sitting on a leather couch peering at a tattoo book.
“Is it over?” she asked, her eyes focused on my breast.
“Yep, all over. Too bad you missed it,” I said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “Thank God.”
As we walked back to the shop, I got a text from Sebastian asking if we could meet him at the park. In a strange way, meeting him and Leo the other night felt fortuitous, like I’d caught a break for once in my life. I texted back and said I would meet him there.
Mila had to go home, so we said our goodbyes at the shop. After she left, I went inside and grabbed a towel from the closet and strolled the two blocks over to White Rock Lake, a thousand-acre lake and parkland. Although Aunt Portia’s shop wasn’t located in the premier area of Highland Park where I lived, this part of Dallas still featured million-dollar homes and plenty of imported cars. Even former President George W. Bush played golf sometimes at the exclusive course within the park.
Huge oaks trees and pink crepe myrtles lined the entrance I walked through, and I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent and feel of late summer in Texas. Only a few more days of this and I’d be in school, studying like a maniac and getting ready for Princeton.
With BA on my mind, I headed for the center of the main grassy area, where I saw several guys playing football. When I got closer, I recognized Sebastian and Cuba Hudson, one of the other football players from school. Cuba, also known as Hollywood among his friends because of his pretty boy good looks, was the it boy at BA. We knew each other from growing up in the same town and had even had several classes together, but we didn’t hang out in the same circles. He was king of the jocks while I was queen of the intellectual crowd. He always had a different girl with him; I had no one.
A group of giggling girls sat on a blanket nearby, their eyes following the game as Sebastian caught a screen pass, and Cuba’s large frame blocked for him down field. Sebastian scored, and the girls went nuts, jumping up and clapping. When he looked their way and took a bow, I snorted. The girls at BA were going to fall in love with him.
He and Cuba continued their game as I sat on my towel. After a while though, my eyelids grew heavy from lack of sleep. My life had taken a turn this week, and I didn’t yet know what it was leading to. I lay down on the towel, worn out.
I woke up when I felt something tickle my wrist. I blinked my eyes a few times and brushed my arm, but it kept itching. Thinking it might be an insect, I forced my eyes to open and saw Sebastian, sitting beside me and running a small branch up and down my arm.
“I’ve been doing this for ten minutes,” he said with a grin, tossing the stick to the side. “You’re hard to wake up.”
I poked him in the ribs. “Why’d you wake me up?”
“I was bored and didn’t want to talk to myself. Plus, I thought you’d want to watch the show,” he said, nudging his head over to the left. I looked where he indicated and saw Leo with blue running shorts and a tank on. He’d been exercising hard because, even from here, I could see the sweat glistening on his body. Again, he reminded me of a warrior with his height and broad shoulders. He pushed his hand through his damp hair, and I had to smile a little because I’d figured out it was a habit of his. I turned my eyes to the girl he was talking to, trying to suss out what was going on with their interaction. She was petite with dark brown hair and appeared thrilled to be with him if the animated smile on her face was anything to go by. She wore a tiny red sports top that had to be two sizes too small because it barely contained her big breasts. The more I looked at her, the more I wondered how she stayed upright with those surgically enhanced boobs. She also wore a pair of running shorts with cute matching shoes. But she didn’t look like she’d been working out; she looked like she’d just stepped out of a Lululemon catalog. I frowned.
“Tiffany, the date, I presume?”
“Yep.”
“Why don’t you like her?” I asked.
He rubbed his jaw. “It’s not that I dislike her, although she is very annoying, it’s just I’m sick of him being a man-whore and not dating someone who’s good for him. He likes sluts because they don’t ask for anything more.”
“Hasn’t he ever been in love?”
“Leo, in love? Please,” he said, shaking his head emphatically, “the man has no idea what it is.”
We sat and watched them talk. They moved over to a shade tree closer to us, and they were standing close, as if in an intimate conversation. Every now and then, she’d reach out her hand and touch him somewhere; twice on his arm, once on his shoulder and one time she rested her hand on his chest. I got peeved thinking about her touching my dragon. But what bothered me the most was his body language, the way his body was centered with hers and the way his eyes focused on her as she talked. Sharp jealousy gnawed at my insides at the reaction she was able to get from him when last night, he’d barely even noticed I was standing there naked.
“I think he’s afraid of losing someone, like he lost mom and dad,” Sebastian said quietly. “It hurts when you love someone and then they disappear. I was ten when they died, but Leo . . . it affected him the most. Losing them both on the same day was devastating. It’s hard to recover from that.” He looked down at the grass. “I had Leo, you know, but who did he have? Nobody.”
I thought of my own family and how they’re never around.
“I think he’s afraid to love again,” he said.
“He seems to be doing fine at the moment,” I said, scowling at Leo and Tiffany.
“Holy shit. Are you jealous of Tiffany?”
I whipped my head around to glare at him. “What? No, of course not. That’s crazy talk. He’s seven years older than me.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But, you can’t always choose who your heart wants,” he said.
“True,” I said, remembering Drew.
“Come on, let’s go talk to Cuba,” he said, standing and putting out a hand for me. I grasped it, and he tugged, grimacing like I was too heavy.
“Ass,” I said, smacking him on the arm when I got up. Maybe it was weird that we’d settled so fast into a friendship, but I wasn’t questioning it. I needed friends.
He leered, teasing me back. “Wanna kiss it?”
We laughed together like we’d known each other for weeks instead of just one day. We made our way across the park and over to where Cuba was standing near the ice cream stand. On the way, one of the girls who’d been watching them play football earlier yelled for Sebastian to come over to them.
He grinned at me sheepishly. “Think you can handle Cuba on your own? Looks like my fans wanna talk to me,” he said, his body already pointed in their direction, like a golden retriever who’d spotted its prey.
“I know Cuba. Go be with your groupies,” I said with a chuckle, pushing him toward them.
He shrugged at me and sauntered over to them.
I looked back at Cuba who stood watching me, making me glad I’d worn my Burberry cuffed shorts and matching blue shirt. Even though we’d had a class together last year, I felt nervous about talking to him, wondering what we’d say to each other. I knew I had a reputation as being standoffish. But it wasn’t because I was snobby; it was because I didn’t want anyone to know the truth about me.
I studied Cuba as I approached, realizing he could help me mark meaningless sex off my list. Leo had let me down, but with Cuba’s well-known promiscuous nature, I may have just hit the sex jackpot.
“Nora Blakely. The girl that went off at registration,” Cuba stated with a big grin as I stopped in front of him.
I grinned. “Hollywood Hudson. The guy who tried to cheat off me in Euro history last year.”
He guffawed. “Shit, you saw me? I tried to be sneaky.”
“Kinda hard to miss when a six-foot-two lineman is looking over your shoulder, trying to peek at your answers. You’re lucky I didn’t report you,” I joked.
He chuckled. “You’re not gonna give me a lecture are you? If you are, let’s go find you a whip firs
t. I like a girl in charge.”
“Uh . . . uh, why don’t you just buy me an ice cream instead, and we’ll skip the lecture bit,” I mumbled out, faltering. Shit. I sucked at flirting. I needed some vodka.
“Alright, what flavor do you want?” he said, handing me his football so he could pull out his wallet.
“Chocolate is my favorite,” I said, purposely running my eyes over his brown skin. He had a golden tan from the sun, but I decided there was also definite Latino in his family background, too. His mother had died last year, but I seemed to remember she was Brazilian?
He paused and raised his brows. “Is that so?”
“Today it is,” I said, smiling up at him. “What’s yours?”
He laughed, his eyes gleaming at me. “It’s gonna sound dumb if I say vanilla, so I won’t, but truthfully—I like all kinds of ice cream, sweetheart. It’s my favorite dessert,” he said, giving me a lingering look with his warm, almost yellowish eyes. I got transfixed for a moment at the unusual color, fascinated about the genetics behind it. Where had he gotten that rare hue? As he turned to go get the ice cream, I made a mental note to drag out my Biology 101 book when I got home and brush up on my genetics. Yes. Science interested me.
A few minutes later, he came back with a waffle cone that had two heaps of chocolate on top. It looked amazing and delicious, and I practically tackled him for it.
I couldn’t hide my glee when I took the first wonderful bite, my lips sinking into the cold creaminess. “Oh, Cuba, so good. Thank you,” I moaned, as my tongue wrapped around the yummy cone.
He fidgeted, his hands gripping the football he’d taken back a little tighter. “That good, huh?”
“Uh-huh, you have no idea. Mother never allows sweets in the house. She’s too scared she’ll gain a pound . . . or I will,” I said in between licks. I looked up from the cone. “Here,” I said, holding it up to him, wanting to share this glorious thing, “take some of mine. Best thing ever, I promise.”
He leaned down and licked the ice cream, never taking his strange eyes off me, making me shiver. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s good, but I’d rather watch you eat it.”
