Twelve
It is true. You can get addicted to tattoos. But that’s not all. You can get addicted to all sorts of things. To porn or drugs. To food. To the absence of something. To feelings. To ideas. And to people.
“Close the door, it’s noisy out there,” he said.
I shut it, sealing us again in the dusky cave I had grown so familiar with recently. He was hunched over something, but I couldn’t make out much in the dim light.
“Open the curtains at least! You’re going to ruin your eyes,” I said. Turns out Jared had tons of secrets, too.
He was studying part time, for one. He had mountains of books hidden all over his apartment. It was third year physics, and his maths notebooks and heavy textbooks seemed written in a cryptic language; his assignments were all submitted secretly, too, without me ever seeing him doing it. Even the good grades he received were hidden for some reason, and he studied for exams in the back of cars and snapped the books closed when anyone came to look.
And he did this now, as though I had discovered him doing something truly embarrassing. Of all the things I had let this boy do to me in the last year, and me him, I had to smile a little that he could still be bashful around me. He shone a boyish smile in my direction and squirrelled the books away.
We sat staring at one another for a while, sizing up how things would play out this evening.
His eyes dropped to quickly take in the shirt I was wearing, the tight jeans. I saw a flicker of recognition in his naughty eyes, and returned my own to him. Fine. It was settled then.
“My mama kicked me out of the house today,” I said with an over-the-top pout. I dropped my backpack to the floor, looking like someone had stolen my candy. I twirled a strand of hair between my fingers.
He smiled that gorgeous sideways smile, just the same one he did when I first met him and couldn’t decide if I wanted to smack him or fuck his brains out. He knitted his fingers together and sat back in his seat like a bad guy in the club scene in a movie.
“Oh? Did she now? And why’s that, little girl?” he said, mocking me.
I sidled up to him a little, still pouting, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just been a little naughty.”
He grinned savagely, something playful yet dangerous in the way his hands rested on his knees, as though he was coiled up and ready to bite. I sidled a little closer.
“This is a very dangerous place. You were stupid to come here .” The smile was gone, and in its place came something more sinister. I loved this part. The mood dropped, clicked into a different gear. I shut my eyes and breathed in deeply and out again, just as he had taught me.
“Oh, I’m sorry mister, I’ll just be going then…” I said, picking up my bag and making as to leave out the same door. He stood up quickly, pinning me in my place with steely eyes. I loved how easily he could turn from sweet boy to …whatever this was. I didn’t know. Neither did he. And so we kept doing this over and over again to understand it.
“Drop your bag,” he barked, and I did.
He walked up slowly to me, menacingly, a showy swagger in his step that was seemingly put there to intimidate me. Little flutters erupted in the pit of my stomach. I said nothing; lowered my eyes. He brushed past me and softly closed the door, his hand on mine.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
I gulped. “But, I’m sorry to bother you, I really should just go now sir…”
He had caged me in with his arm, like the jock bully in an 80s High School series, laying claim to the innocent girl who had nothing but some books held to her chest for protection. I couldn’t say anymore. He watched me carefully, amused by my panicked breathing. I was wearing dark jeans and a torn black shirt, but in this moment, it was actually a chaste uniform, a blouse in virginal white and little skirt, and he could see that, too.
He dragged his eyes down the length of my
It is true. You can get addicted to tattoos. But that’s not all. You can get addicted to all sorts of things. To porn or drugs. To food. To the absence of something. To feelings. To ideas. And to people.
“Close the door, it’s noisy out there,” he said.
I shut it, sealing us again in the dusky cave I had grown so familiar with recently. He was hunched over something, but I couldn’t make out much in the dim light.
“Open the curtains at least! You’re going to ruin your eyes,” I said. Turns out Jared had tons of secrets, too.
He was studying part time, for one. He had mountains of books hidden all over his apartment. It was third year physics, and his maths notebooks and heavy textbooks seemed written in a cryptic language; his assignments were all submitted secretly, too, without me ever seeing him doing it. Even the good grades he received were hidden for some reason, and he studied for exams in the back of cars and snapped the books closed when anyone came to look.
And he did this now, as though I had discovered him doing something truly embarrassing. Of all the things I had let this boy do to me in the last year, and me him, I had to smile a little that he could still be bashful around me. He shone a boyish smile in my direction and squirrelled the books away.
We sat staring at one another for a while, sizing up how things would play out this evening.
His eyes dropped to quickly take in the shirt I was wearing, the tight jeans. I saw a flicker of recognition in his naughty eyes, and returned my own to him. Fine. It was settled then.
“My mama kicked me out of the house today,” I said with an over-the-top pout. I dropped my backpack to the floor, looking like someone had stolen my candy. I twirled a strand of hair between my fingers.
He smiled that gorgeous sideways smile, just the same one he did when I first met him and couldn’t decide if I wanted to smack him or fuck his brains out. He knitted his fingers together and sat back in his seat like a bad guy in the club scene in a movie.
“Oh? Did she now? And why’s that, little girl?” he said, mocking me.
I sidled up to him a little, still pouting, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just been a little naughty.”
He grinned savagely, something playful yet dangerous in the way his hands rested on his knees, as though he was coiled up and ready to bite. I sidled a little closer.
“This is a very dangerous place. You were stupid to come here .” The smile was gone, and in its place came something more sinister. I loved this part. The mood dropped, clicked into a different gear. I shut my eyes and breathed in deeply and out again, just as he had taught me.
“Oh, I’m sorry mister, I’ll just be going then…” I said, picking up my bag and making as to leave out the same door. He stood up quickly, pinning me in my place with steely eyes. I loved how easily he could turn from sweet boy to …whatever this was. I didn’t know. Neither did he. And so we kept doing this over and over again to understand it.
“Drop your bag,” he barked, and I did.
He walked up slowly to me, menacingly, a showy swagger in his step that was seemingly put there to intimidate me. Little flutters erupted in the pit of my stomach. I said nothing; lowered my eyes. He brushed past me and softly closed the door, his hand on mine.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
I gulped. “But, I’m sorry to bother you, I really should just go now sir…”
He had caged me in with his arm, like the jock bully in an 80s High School series, laying claim to the innocent girl who had nothing but some books held to her chest for protection. I couldn’t say anymore. He watched me carefully, amused by my panicked breathing. I was wearing dark jeans and a torn black shirt, but in this moment, it was actually a chaste uniform, a blouse in virginal white and little skirt, and he could see that, too.
He dragged his eyes down the length of my
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