Still Surviving (15 page)

“You look nice.” Nice was selling it short, but a guy should keep some of his cards close to his chest. Tiff on the other hand… had she worn this make-up for me? She didn’t need it.

“Thanks, I was feeling girlie today.” She pulled a black piece of hair behind her ear and it was then I noticed something other than her flawless face. She had on a dress. A sexy as fuck dress, no less. It was black and had thick straps with large clasps that looked like buckles. The dress had a Betty Paige, nineteen fifties pin-up girl thing going on, and I loved it. I shifted on my feet feeling significantly less room in my pants.

“You look really good, Tiff. Hot date?”

“You’re looking at it.” She smiled warmly at me as she looked down at her tattoo table. I knew she didn’t mean me, but I figured I’d tease her a little.

“I feel like I should have dressed up, maybe worn one of my ties. You always liked that dark blue one with the gray swirly shit on it.” I laughed and her smile grew, exposing my favorite crinkles around her eyes.

“I do, it makes your eyes look like a storm cloud.” Her smile faltered just a bit at her admission, but I wouldn’t allow it to stay that way.

“Your eyes… they’re beautiful. You don’t need any of that special shit to make them shine… They’re always real, Angel… always.” I watched as her lips spread, and she served me that smile that was all Tiff. The perfect way her full upper lip pulled smoothly across her slightly larger two front teeth, and the corners of her mouth tipped up more on one side then the other. The small lines around her eyes pulled tightly. This was what I wanted — Tiffany’s smile — it was a miracle, and I was starting to crave it like a drug.

“Thanks, Seth.” Her voice was quiet. “So what’s this tattoo you wanted?” She hopped down from the stool and tapped the top of her workbench. I sat on the padded surface and pulled out my phone.

“I want these tattooed across my lower back.” I handed her my phone and her lips parted as she took in the picture.

“You want me to free hand… orchids?” She flicked her gaze to mine and I nodded.

“Yes, I want three… three black orchids.” Three years of Tiffany. If I had enough room on my body, I’d add another orchid for every year that we spent knowing each other. “Three is just enough to cover this small area… here, let me show you.” I stood and lifted my T-shirt. Tiffany’s eyes poured over me, and I suppressed a smirk. I would never get enough of how my body made her cheeks turn bright red. It was like she was thinking dirty thoughts, and I’d give anything to know what they were.

I turned around so she could see the last bit of flesh on my lower back that wasn’t covered with ink. “Can you free hand that?”

“I can.” I turned at the tone in her voice. She sounded nervous. Her eyes were shiny as if she were trying not to cry.

“Are you okay?” I asked apprehensively, wondering if this was too much, if this gesture was tipping the scale too high.

“Why orchids, Seth?” She knew why.

I tilted her chin, forcing her to look at me with my thumb and forefinger. She searched my face for what seemed like a long few seconds. “You always smell like orchids.”

Her lips opened faintly and she closed her eyes. My heart started to pound in my chest as I began to lean into her. The pull was compelling. Her eyes flicked open and locked with mine. “I love that you’re letting me do this, letting me mark you with something that reminds you of me.” Her voice was a low whispered rasp.

“You’ve marked me more than you know, Angel.” My lips ached to feel her skin, to be burrowed in her neck, filling my lungs with her scent.

“Tiff, you going to close up when you’re done? Last client left for the night.” The receptionist’s voice shattered our bubble, and Tiffany quickly backed away from me.

“Sure thing, Rand.” She smoothed the palms of her hands down the front of her dress.

“Sweet, I’m outta here. See you Sunday.” Rand’s words clung to the air after he walked through the front door. It lingered like a reminder that she wasn’t mine; she was Scott’s, and that small moment we’d just shared didn’t matter because on Sunday, he’d be back.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tiffany

R
AND WALKED OUT OF
the front door, and my stomach dropped. The palms of my hands were sweaty, and I didn’t dare look Seth in the eye. I’d wanted him to kiss me. I needed him to kiss me, and it made me feel awful because I knew he wouldn’t. My thoughts were a tangled vine.
What was I doing with Scott?

“Are we doing this?” Seth’s deep voice warmed me to the core. The tone of his voice was like high definition to my senses. Every word he spoke was a heavy drumbeat in my chest, and the lie I told myself each day…that lie was fading with every encounter.

I found the courage I needed to look at his face, his perfect and unattainable eyes on mine. The gray-blue sparkled and I wanted to own that gaze, but it wasn’t mine to have. He was getting orchids permanently placed on his skin. My flower… my scent… forever mixed with his blood… forever on his body… I felt weak in the knees. It was like one of those old time southern movies. The swoon was making it difficult to breathe.
Ridiculous.

“Take your shirt off and lie down.” I turned my regard to the table as I readied my equipment.

“I like it when you’re bossy.” Seth’s smile was evident in his words, and I let myself relax. I could handle sarcastic Seth. The romantic, wanting to kiss me, get tattoos that reminded him of me Seth, not so much. That Seth would surely break me into teeny tiny pieces.

My eyes caught a quick show as he pulled his shirt over his head from behind his neck. Seth was a sight regardless of what he was wearing. He could rock a suit, jeans, and a T-shirt. Shit, I bet he looked good in sweats. But right now, shirt off with just jeans… this… was my favorite. His thick black belt looped through his jeans, the stone planes of his chest smoothed down over six flawless abdominal muscles, the stunning “Hell’s Gate” mural accentuated it all. My intake of breath was louder than I wanted, and I heard him lightly chuckle.

“Is there a problem, Angel?” He gave me a knowing look, and I shook my head.

“Yeah, you’re not laying down.” I kept my voice surprisingly level. He laughed loudly, and my stomach knotted. It was a rare thing for him to laugh so openly, and I was beginning to think that maybe his laugh was better than anything else. Better than his perfect body, his talented voice, and I’m sure talents I’d never discover. His laugh was the most real thing about him. I wanted to bottle it and open it at night right before bed so I could dream of him just like this.

He stretched his body along the black padded surface. His arms rested under his cheek, his head turned to face me as I sat down on the stool next to the table. “Stay still, I’m going to draw one flower tonight. I’ll get the line work finished on this one and then Sunday I can start the second one. Does that sound alright?” My purple Sharpie was in my hand. I was itching to get started.

“Sure. Don’t fuck up, make sure they look like orchids.” The corner of his lip tilted up into a crooked grin, and I snorted.

“Orchids look a lot like lady parts you know.” I grinned as his smile fell.

“I swear to God if you draw anything resembling a pus—“

“Chill out, I would never.” I placated as I patted his head like he was a child. I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to suppress my giggle.

He relaxed. The tip of my marker lightly skated across his skin. The music played softly from my iPod, and I noticed Seth’s eyes were closed. His dark lashes fanned down, just barely dusting his cheeks. He called me “Angel,” but he was the one that looked angelic. The light color of his skin made him appear unreal, almost like a statue with his sharp angular features.

“Tell me a story about, Anna.” Seth spoke without opening his eyes and my marker stilled.

“Why?” There was no hiding the discomfort in my voice. I didn’t like thinking about Anna.

Seth’s eyes didn’t open like I thought they would once he heard the waver in my tone. “Tell me… tell me something happy, Tiff. Show me your best.” His eyes opened then and my pulse skipped. The blue hue was the clearest I’d ever seen it. His eyes appeared almost colorless; his pure gaze appraised me with so much curiosity it was hard for me to speak.

“What if there isn’t a
best
?” My throat felt tight with the lie. I had so many bests… but if I thought about them… if I let them sink in, I’d remember how much I lost.

“Everyone has a
best,
and I want to know yours.” It wasn’t a request; Seth had this way of pleasantly commanding things, and it made it hard to tell him no.

“My
best.
” I whispered to myself as the familiar memory played behind my eyes.

“Sissy, wait.” I giggled as I chased my little sister through the hordes of people. The fall air was crisp, the smell of funnel cake, powder sugar, and cinnamon floated on the air. Lagoon was packed. The theme park was my favorite and, during the month of October, was the best. Some of the rides were shut down and turned into haunted houses, and they had a scary spook alley for the little kids.

“Hurry Tiff, I want to ride ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’” She stopped running when she turned and noticed how far I’d fallen back. My little sister was a whirlwind, but she always knew when she was pushing it.

“Hey honey, I’m going to grab a funnel cake for Sis, you want one?” My dad’s smile was stretched wide, his hand tangled with my mom’s.

“Sure Dad, that sounds great. You better get more than two, though, because this little turd always eats my goodies.” I mussed Anna’s hair, and she pouted.

“I do not.” She had just turned five, and with it came attitude.

“Don’t call your sister names, Tiffany Narine Webster.” My mother’s stern voice always made me laugh, and this time was no different. She narrowed her eyes at me and bit her lip trying to suppress her grin. “I’m serious.”

“Sure thing, Mom.” I brought my hand to my mouth to cover my laughter.

“Come on Baby, let’s get these ungrateful kids some sugar.” He smirked and gave my mother a lingering kiss.

It was perfect how much my parents loved each other. It wasn’t normal to feel this way, I figured. As a teenager, I should hate my parents, but I didn’t. Sure, they wanted me to do what they wanted, cheerleading was a perfect example. I hated it, but I knew it made my mom happy. That’s all that mattered, because she wanted me to be happy too, so I did it for her.

The line moved fast, and my sister was able to ride the pint sized roller coaster three times before my parents returned with the fried, sugary, plate of perfection.

We found a table next to the giant wooden roller coaster and devoured the sweet treat. My heart raced like it always did when I looked up at the steep dips and turns; the fear of this contraption took up a permanent zip code in my brain.

“You think you can do it this year, sweetness?“ My father eyed me from across the table.

The funnel cake flopped in my belly, but with excitement instead of fear. Why not? “I think I am.”

The skin around my father’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled and jumped up from the bench. “Well shit, let’s do this.”

“Mark!” My mother admonished. “Are you serious?” She looked at my dad with incredulity.

“Sorry Baby.” He took her cheek in his hand and kissed her deeply.

“Just watch your mouth around Anna.” My mother whispered through a smile against my father’s lips.

“What’s wrong with dad’s mouth?” Anna asked with a mouthful of powdered sugar and fried bread.

My father chuckled and took my hand in his. “Let’s go, Sweetness, it’s now or never.”

I hadn’t noticed I was crying until Seth thumbed away my tears. He was sitting up now, his long legs hung over the side of the table.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” The rough pads of his thumbs trailed under my eyes as he cradled my face in his warm palms.

“I’m not.”

“You’re clearly crying, Tiff.” He chuckled. “That was a good memory.”

“It was the best. Fall at Lagoon was a family tradition. That was the last time we ever went.” I took a breath and tried to stop myself from getting more upset.

“I like that memory.” Never letting his eyes fall from mine, he assumed his previous position lying down on the table. He searched my face to make sure I was done with the tears before he continued. “Your parents… they seem nice.” I didn’t miss the hard edge to his voice.

“They were.” I picked up my marker and started back in on the orchid.

“They kicked you out though. That’s fucked up, making you live with that…” Seth’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, his exhale was just as harsh. “They gave up on you.”

“No Seth, I gave up on myself. They gave me a choice, give up the pills, the crazy. They wanted me to go to therapy, to get better. I just wanted to…” I didn’t want to say it out loud, but I knew I could. With Seth I could always be real. “…I wanted to die, and they couldn’t bury another kid, so they let me go.” I drew the last line on his back trying to make myself numb to the memories I was dredging up.

“Do you forgive yourself?” My stare met his, and the connection was tangible.

“I’m working on it.” My lips offered him a small smile. “You ready for the real thing?” I watched as Seth swallowed hard. I’d meant that I was ready to start the tattoo. But Seth was looking at me like he was ready. Ready to take any part of what I was willing to offer, and it made the butterflies in my stomach and ribcage take full flight.

“It’s now or never.” He closed his eyes as my lips split into a wide smile. He’d quoted my father without knowing it. That part of the memory I hadn’t mentioned, and for some reason it made everything feel okay. Seth and I were linked in these intense little ways, and I could fight it all day long, but it was inescapable, palpable, and I wanted more… I just wasn’t sure what my next step would be.