Flaw (The Flaw Series) (4 page)

“Do you want to go have some pancakes?” she asks after a long period of us just lying there in silence.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” I say. She puts her arms around me and hugs tight. I know she’s wondering if it’s weird. I want to assure her it’s not. “Becca, I’m happy with the way things are with us. Everything with us always has been and always will be just fine.”

There’s one more squeeze and a quick smile from her before she hops up from my bed, raring to go. “Okay, let’s go. Josh’s mom left a bag of chocolate chips in the freezer so you’re getting chocolate chip pancakes,” she says, beaming, bouncing from the room with me close behind.

“Becca, you can’t just go taking his stuff. That’s his, leave it alone. Regular pancakes are fine.” I don’t need Josh getting all pissy with us over missing food. I gotta live with this guy.

“I made pancakes for his date this morning. I think he can spare a few lousy chocolate chips.” Becca frowns, taking the bag of chocolate chips from the freezer, ignoring my request to leave them alone.

“Weren’t you just yammering not an hour ago that you invited her and he didn’t? Can you please not provoke this guy? You can’t go pissing him off. With the three of us living so close it might make things uncomfortable for us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She blows off what I’m saying and pours an enormous amount of chocolate chips into the batter she’s preparing.

A few bites into my second pancake, Josh returns back to the apartment. He nods a “morning” in my direction then turns his gaze immediately onto Becca.

“Hey Josh, your date get home alright?” She grins over at him.

“Just fine, Becks. Thank you for making us breakfast this morning. It was very kind of you.” They hold each other’s stare as Becca continues washing up the breakfast dishes and Josh takes out a carton of milk from the fridge. I can actually feel the tension coming off of them as they move past each other in the small kitchen area. Josh finishes up the carton of milk and goes to chuck it. His body skims up against Becca’s to squeeze past her to get to the garbage can and she does little to pull herself in to give him room enough to pass. Their bodies slide into each other and they both mumble a little apology, Josh once again using the nickname ‘Becks.’

My heart sinks, realizing what is playing out in front of me. Her getting so angry before makes more sense now. I can see what’s going on between them even more than they can yet. There’s a mutual attraction building there. It’s too early to tell if it’s anything more than that, but whatever it is brewing does not bode well for the three of us.

Josh

Even though Aidan’s at work, Becca is still here. I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all. She’s parked in my chair and I’m sprawled across the couch with one eye on the TV, the other eye on the iPad that’s propped up on my lap.

“What are you doing on that thing?” Becca asks over her shoulder.

“Nothing really. Just looking stuff up.”

“Oh, can I see it?” She holds her hand out to me. I close out of the screen I’m on and get up from the couch to hand it to her.

“Hmm,” she says once I sit back down. Her fingers dance over the screen. “This is interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m looking up your history, seeing what kind of stuff you look up on here.” She laughs, raising her eyebrows. “Wow, dirty. You’re one sick pervert.”

I’m up on my feet, darting across the room, seizing the iPad back from her.
Oh shit
. I’m terrified as I glance down at the screen to see what disgusting sites she busted me looking up. It could be just about anything.
Please God, don’t let it be the porn site with the pierced, tattooed girls
.

An APP is opened, a zombie game. That’s all.

She’s hysterical. “Ew, I was kidding, but what sick shit are you looking up? Obviously stuff you don’t want me to see.” Her eyes are lit up and she tries to stifle her laughter by cupping her hand over her glossy lips.

I tuck the iPad in between the couch cushions, hiding it from her. Later I gotta figure out a way to erase the history.
Right after I check out that site one more time
.

“Sometimes I may stumble on some
interesting
things,” I say, trying to recover casually.

“On the internet we all stumble on some
interesting
things, right?” She turns around and gives me one of her flirty winks. My stomach tightens. Who is this girl? I can’t get over the way she just says whatever she wants. Did she just kind of admit to being an internet pervert?
Holy fuck
. I would chop off my left arm to know what
interesting
things she’s looking up herself.

Becca tugs on the zipper of her hoodie, zipping and unzipping it absently, the trail of stars coming in and out of view. Her boobs are definitely real. “Did Aidan do your tattoos?” I ask, wondering if there are any others I just can’t see.

“Nope, none of them.”

“You have more than just those stars?”

“Maybe,” she purrs, arching her eyebrows up and I swear my chest plunges forward just like some animated cartoon characters would. I stare back over at the TV in a daze.

I could be in my room but instead I spend the next hour watching celebrities dance. Not only am I watching, but I’m being instructed to give each couple a score following their dance. And I’m discussing this shit, saying things like, “wow, that old guy is pretty good” and “you’re right, that’s not fair to the others if they have a background in dancing.” After the show is over, I’m actually using my cell phone to call in and vote for the couple Becca “totally thinks deserves to win.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask, once we’ve used up our allotted votes. I’m sure she is. She always is. She’s constantly munching. I’m pretty sure she’s the thief who’s been eating all my chocolate chips. “We can order or, ya know, go out somewhere if you want.”

“Go out? Like… ” She stops, her eyes scanning the floor. “Just out to eat?”

“Yeah, just to eat. I wasn’t asking you on a date or anything.” I take a sharp breath. That came out rude. Not my intention at all. It’s just I don’t do dates.

Her eyes lose a little bit of their light and she swivels her head back towards the TV. “No, I’m good. I ate before.”

Dammit. Why did I feel the need to say it like that? Why does being a dickhead come so easy to me? Of course she didn’t think I was asking her on a date. She’s with Aidan.
Get a grip and fix this
.

“Well, I’m ordering and I’m just gonna order you something whether you’re hungry or not.”
Yup, that fixed it
. Now I look like an even bigger dick.

She scrunches up her nose, the little diamond stud sending a sparkle my way. Her eyes warm as she rolls them towards the ceiling. “Josh, why do you have to make things so difficult?”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know, ‘cause I
really
like it when things are easy.”

“I’m sure you do.” She lifts her eyebrows, glancing over at me insinuatingly.

Easy life, easy girls, those things make me happy. Well…content. I don’t know that easy girls really make me happy.

Becca turns her whole body in the chair so that she’s facing me. “Sometimes when you have to work a little harder at something, you find you appreciate it more.”

I meet her gray eyes.
Gray
. I know they’re gray. I’ve known they’re gray since the first time I met her. Too pale to be considered blue, too beautiful not to notice. My lips squeeze together in a frown.
So what
? I know what color her eyes are. That doesn’t mean anything. I lower my head down away from her intense gaze and reach for the menu on the coffee table. “I’m gonna go order,” I mumble, getting up from the couch.

“Okay. Can you make sure you tell them I want brown rice with mine?”

“Brown rice. Got it.” I call the order in from the kitchen. “Can you repeat it back,” I say to the man taking the order. Because I don’t want to get this wrong. I’ve got to make sure I don’t fuck this up.

Aidan

I rub antibacterial ointment onto the fresh skull I created on a biker’s thick arm and pull my head back to admire my work. “You ready to check this thing out?”

The guy looks down and then gets up from the chair, stretching out his back before walking over to the mirror. “Whoa, dude, this is awesome.” He admires the new ink, moving around to see it from different angles. “It’s killer. How do you even learn to do something like this?”

I tip my head at him modestly. Tattooing was something I always wanted to do. Growing up I was constantly losing myself sketching up the different ideas I had jumping around in my head. On my eighteenth birthday I got my first tattoo, a dagger in a heart that I drew up myself. The artist who did my tattoo liked it. It was one of those ‘right place at the right time’ moments. I started working there doing small jobs, building experience. When I moved here the guy was good enough to give me a recommendation. And, well, here I am.

“Aidan.” Frank, the owner of the shop, walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Before you head out we got a few girls coming in. Twenty first birthday celebration. They all want tattoos.” He laughs. “I told them we’d only tattoo ‘em if they were sober when they got here. You mind staying? I’m sure it’ll just be a bunch of bullshit butterflies on shoulders.”

“I’ll stay but you know as well as I do what’s gonna happen.” I don’t tattoo girls. They don’t want me to. I scare them. One look at me and they’ll wait two hours for Frank or one of the other guys to tattoo them rather than have my mangled face staring down at them. I don’t let it bother me. Anymore.

A short while later, a white limo pulls up outside and four giggling girls bounce excitedly into the shop.

Frank was right, they all want butterflies. I was also right, they’ll wait.

I’m packing my stuff up for the night when a fifth girl enters the shop, the bell above the door announcing her entrance. A gust of wind behind her circles her long brown hair in a gentle swirl around her. She’s not silly and giggling like her friends. She has more of a calm demeanor. Serious. Her amber eyes survey the little shop until they land on me. Our eyes lock for a moment before I twist away, breaking the stare. I reach for my sunglasses and slip them on.
Freak show’s over
.

One of her friend’s runs over, whispering something in her ear all the while staring in my direction. Not hard to guess she’s explaining my being turned down to tattoo them. Even though I’m sure an explanation isn’t exactly needed.

The last of my stuff is cleaned and put away. I grab my keys and yell out a goodnight to Frank on my way out.

“Hey.” A light touch grazes my shoulder. “Are you available to do my tattoo?”

The dark haired beauty waits thoughtfully for me to answer. She wants to show me she’s the nice one of the group. Feels bad and wants to make me feel good.

“Sorry, I’m on my way out. One of the other guys will help you.” I nod my head towards the other end of the shop and breeze past her.

“I didn’t ask for one of the other guys. I asked if you’re available.” A bold, collected statement. She stops me dead in my tracks. My heart drops down to my feet and races back up, thumping away in my chest.

“I thought you weren’t getting a tattoo?” One of her friends shrieks over with a shocked expression.

“I changed my mind,” she answers, looking directly at me. “I want to get one right here.” Her hand lowers down, pressing into her hip.

Looking down where she’s pointing causes an involuntary shiver to run through me. I know I couldn’t hold a needle straight right now even if I wanted to. The sexy jeans hugging her curves are causing me to sweat. One look at the exposed skin of her hip and I’d be lost for sure.

“You and your charity work,” her friend says, lowering her voice but not low enough. The beautiful girl drops her eyes away from me tensing up. The friend’s nasty disapproval hit a nerve.

“Like I said, I’m on my way out.” I let her off the hook. The bells above the door jingle as I exit the shop.

I’m glad to be away from whatever that just was. I look at the limo parked outside and laugh. A bunch of rich girls out on the town, looking for a night of reckless fun. Out to prove to the world how cool they are, getting bad ass butterfly tattoos. I’m glad to have no part in it.

Josh

Becca’s sitting on a bench at the bus stop near my parked car. Her bright pink ponytail bops up and down as she listens to music with her head hung down. I can keep walking and she would never know, but instead I stop. “Where you headed?”

She takes a bud from her ear and grins up at me. “Why? Are you offering me a ride?”

“If you want one.”

“If you’re heading to school I’d love a ride. I have a class.”

I didn’t realize we went to the same school. But it makes sense. It’s the one everyone who opts to stay home goes to. “Yeah, I can give you a ride. I have a class now, too. What are you taking?”

“Mondays I have Art History. What about you?” She follows me to my car and I click open the lock for her to get inside.

“I have some accounting class, the most boring course on earth.” I didn’t open the door for her, but why would I? Why would I even think that?

“If it’s so boring, why are you taking it?”

“My parents wanted me to take it.” Sometimes saying things out loud…you can hear them more clearly. Is that the only reason I’m taking this class?

“What do you want to do? Got any dreams of your own? Or are they all Mom and Dad’s?”

I shrug my shoulders, turning up the radio and ignoring her comment. I don’t like being called out on things. This girl has a habit of doing that.

Becca reaches over and turns off the radio. “Rude. If you don’t want to answer the question, just say, ‘I don’t want to answer the question’ and move on to a different subject.”

“I’m rude? Look what you just said to me.”

She slams back in her seat. “Pull over and let me out. I’d think I’d rather walk.”

Just because I turned the radio up she’s all mad now? I do as she says and pull my car over, parking it on the side of the street. “Fine. Get out and walk, go ahead.”