Draw Me In (33 page)

“
Me too,
”
Walker smiled underneath the mask.
“
Take care, okay?
”

What
seemed innocent enough felt like a goodbye, and even though he
’
d promised to get to the bottom of
whatever was going on with Leo, I didn
’
t
allow myself to cling to that hope.

Leo
said you couldn
’
t
put your hope in things. Well, I wasn
’
t
so sure you could put your hope in people, either.

I
was starting to wonder if you could actually even hope in anything at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“
Bloody hell!
”
Ian screamed, gripping onto the
sides of the mattress as his body trembled. His face was buried so deep into
his pillow that I thought he
’
d
suffocate if he wasn
’
t
careful. I
’
d
had experience with that, and it was a pleasant one.

I
lowered my volume and seethed,
“
Would
you hold still?
”

“
She
’
s almost done,
”
Joshua comforted with his voice and
his hand gently placed on Ian
’
s
bare shoulder. A sheen of nervous perspiration gathered along Ian
’
s spine and I took a nearby towel
into my hands to wipe it off.

“
He
’
s right. I am. But you have to hold
still.
”

I
could hear his teeth grinding behind his lips as I started up the needle again
and pressed it into his flesh. Ian
’
s
body tightened under the pressure, and that sweat developed once more as his
shoulders shook in an erratic rhythm of what looked like agony. I only had one
small portion to shade before the roll of film that twisted between his
shoulder blades was complete, but if he kept up with the protesting like he had
been, it would be midnight before we were finished.

Luckily,
Ian either passed out from the pain or gave up in his attempts to get me to
stop, because his body stilled and I was able to work quickly to put the final
touches on his newest tattoo.

It
was my idea to pull out my tattooing kit from the depths of my closet, and Ian
had been a willing volunteer. I wasn
’
t
sure if it was my desire to go back to my roots from the summer I spent drawing
on naked men, or if I subconsciously wanted to inflict pain on the male species
as a whole, but Ian didn
’
t
question me. Well, at first he didn
’
t
question me. But once the needle began etching on his skin, he started
threatening me, and I realized that pain wasn
’
t what I was going for.

Because
when it came down to it, it hurt to see other people hurt.

Maybe
that
’
s
why it has been three weeks and I
’
ve
yet to hear from Leo. Avoidance was the best way to shield yourself from the
fact that you
’
d
caused someone else
’
s
heartache. Watching Ian squirm under the tip of the needle was difficult to witness,
and that was just physical discomfort. Bearing witness to someone
’
s emotional pain had to be even
harder to endure.

So
that
’
s
what I figured Leo was doing, and it
’
s
also why I assumed Walker had never contacted me.

I
was left in the dark. Left alone to deal with my own questions that I would
never have answers to. Left alone to process that week of bliss and the
following weeks of utter confusion. I was alone. Just me. Just my thoughts.
Just my pencil and paper to help me move forward. Or in this case, a needle and
a back
’
s
worth of skin.

I
didn
’
t
like being alone. Being alone completely sucked.

I
wanted to hate Leo, and even Joshua and Ian tried to help me get to that point.
We spent one entire evening making a list of all of his flaws, but the list was
so incredibly short you couldn
’
t
even call it a list. More like a
li-
because there wasn
’
t
even enough to rightfully label it as one.

He
was a liar.

That
was all I could come up with.

And
while Ian wanted to convince me that lying was some unforgivable sin, I knew
that wasn
’
t
true. People lied for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes to protect themselves.
Sometimes to protect others. And at the heart of it, I didn
’
t for one moment believe Leo was
lying to me about his feelings. There were times when emotions were felt so
much stronger than words, and that
’
s
what Leo had done. He
’
d
spoken his truth to me through his actions, through his touch, through his
kiss. I knew he loved me, without a doubt. His being told me that.

I
just didn
’
t
know why he had stopped.

“
How does it look?
”
Ian craned his neck back to glimpse
his body art. I pulled the handheld mirror from my desk and held it up for him
to see.
“
Wow!
Looks amazing, Jules!
”

It
did. I was good at this. Maybe I should consider opening up some hole-in-the-wall
tattoo parlor after graduation. I was definitely skilled when it came to
drawing on the human body.

I
was also skilled at drawing on wine labels.

Last
week I
’
d
been shopping at our local grocery store when I first saw it. It wasn
’
t much different from the prototype,
just a minor font change and an added color gradient, but it caught my eye,
which I guess was the original goal. That night I added twenty-seven new
bottles to our overflowing wine rack, and Ian didn
’
t question me for even one second. I
’
d bought out the store
’
s supply. No one else would be able
to share in this achievement of mine. At least no one that shopped for their
wine on 27
^th
street. I owned them all. Until they got a new shipment
in, I supposed.

“
You want one, Joshua?
”
I offered, angling my needle his
direction.

“
No, thanks. I
’
m good.
”

That
was probably a good choice because I was tired and my hand was feeling the
effects of the weight from the tool. If I gave Joshua a tattoo now, it wouldn
’
t be my best work. And there was no
eraser when it came to this type of art.

There
was also no eraser when it came to the art of relationships. You couldn
’
t take things back. You couldn
’
t smudge out what had happened. So
maybe that
’
s
why nothing had happened between Leo and me. Maybe he knew that you couldn
’
t go back, so he decided not to go
forward.

Damn
that man and his effect on me! In less than a month he
’
d turned me into a black wearing,
tattoo drawing, angsty female who should probably be composing her own
“
I hate men
”
anthem just to round out that
stereotype.

But
I didn
’
t
hate men. Like I said, I didn
’
t
even hate Leo. It was hard to maintain this hurt, wounded front because it wasn
’
t in my nature to be like this. Sofia
had said one of Leo
’
s
faults was that he was quick to forgive. At the time, I couldn
’
t understand how she would perceive
that as a fault. But now
—
now
that I was the one with the speedy willingness to forgive every hurt and
heartache
—
now
I could kind of see the fault in it. Now I could feel how others would think it
was wrong to forgive these transgressions. But the truth? If Leo waltzed
through my door right now, I
’
d
probably take him back without question. I
’
d
probably even make out with that face without even hearing an explanation
first.

Maybe
that made me pathetic. Maybe it made me some cheap excuse for an independent
woman. Maybe the feminists would come pounding down my door and demand my
woman-card back. I didn
’
t
care what it made me. It made me human, and that
’
s all I needed to be. A real human
that had real feelings and real emotions and wasn
’
t afraid to live my life based on
those. One who wasn
’
t
afraid to lead with her heart.

I
often thought back to my grandma and grandpa. When Grandma
’
s dementia crept in and her memories
slid out, I knew it was hard on Grandpa. He tried not to let it show, but I
could see the pain in his eyes as she looked at him with her vacant expression,
withholding any sign of recognition or remembrance on her tired, aged face. It
gutted him, I
’
m
sure. But he continued to feed her, to wipe her drool, to bathe her and to tuck
her into her own bed at night because they couldn
’
t share the same one anymore. He was
nothing but a stranger to her now. In these moments, I
’
m sure everything in my grandpa
’
s brain told him he didn
’
t have to do it. That she wasn
’
t the same woman he
’
d married when they were practically
kids. That no one would fault him if it was just too much and if the better
option was to put her in a home where someone could care for her without
experiencing the emotional struggle he faced every minute of every day.

But
he didn
’
t
do that. You know why? Because even though his own head and everyone in his
life tried to reason with him, he didn
’
t
allow that to lead him.

He
led with his heart.

Because
you could shut off your thoughts. You could tune out the voices that attempted
to rationalize and justify and give you an out when you probably actually
needed one. But you couldn
’
t
tune out your heart. Because when you did, it stopped beating.

My
heart would continue to beat. And I would let that pulse lead me.

***

I
slammed the drawer to the cash register.

“
Dustin
’
ll have that right up!
”
I smiled as I drop Harold
’
s change into his palm.

He
curled his fingers around the coins and frowned.
“
I
’
m not sure his coffee will compare. I
’
m used to the best.
”

“
Oh, he
’
s actually pretty good.
”
I glanced over at Dustin who was
making his typical sound effects as he dolloped a generous heap of whipped
cream onto a white mocha.
Ka-pow
!
“
I
’
ve taught him all he knows.
”

“
An apprentice of sorts?
”
Harold asked with an appreciative
look.
“
I
might start calling you Professor Thornton.
”

I
waved my hands at him and dismissed his generous compliment.
“
Oh no. I
’
m not deserving of that title. I
think I should at least graduate before I earn the right to any sort of label.
All I can wear now is struggling-artist-slash-poor-college-student.
”

“
This look okay?
”
Eva asked from behind me, holding
out a mug of coffee for me to evaluate. She
’
d done a fantastic job with the
steamed milk and had the perfect frothy canvas to begin her drawing.

“
Yet another one of your
protégés
?
”
Harold asked as he nodded his head
toward Eva. She blushed under his recognition and a little liquid sloshed over
the lip of the cup onto the saucer. I steadied her hand and guided it toward
the counter.

“
She is. At the co-op, and here at the
coffeehouse.
”

Cara
mentioned she was looking for another hire a few days ago, and I knew of Eva
’
s mom
’
s financial situation. To both of us,
it sounded like the perfect fit. Eva agreed too, and she happily joined our new
coffeehouse crew. It was funny how life worked out like that. Almost like
serendipity when the pieces fit so nicely together.