Tattooed Hearts (2 page)

Humiliation quickly turned
to anger. She planted her legs wide and crossed her arms over chest. “How did
you know I was in here?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t
outside.”

“I could have been by the
lake.
”

 
The corners of his mouth lifted up, then
his smile widened into a grin “I saw you come in.”

“You were watching me.”

His eyes narrowed. “We all
watch over you. That’s what we do.”

Not exactly what she had
hoped to hear. Realizing she stood no chance to w
in
this banter, she quickly opted for plan B.
The truth.
What she wanted most in
the world. To be kissed by him. She edged further into the room and leaned her
elbows on the window sill, her denim shorts brushing against the dusty wall.
“Fine.
You were rig
ht,” she started in a low voice, her back to him. “I was
practicing kissing because I’ve never been kissed.”

“Go on.”

“
Cosmopolitan
has a step-by-step guide on how to
practice kissing and I was following the instructions.” She paused and
inspected her batt
ered red Converse, building courage
to spill everything. “But it also says the best practice is with another
person.” She turned to look at him. “Will you kiss me, Forrest?”

“No,” he answered without
a beat.

The swift blow of
rejection knocked every wisp o
f air from her lungs.
Claire struggled to inhale, to exhale,
to
do anything. Stunned and
disoriented, she
swiftly
turned her attention back to the window.
The sun
stung
her eyes,
they watered. She
quickly batted away
escaped tears.

“Claire,” he
said,
his voice a bit more
soothing. “You’re so young.”

“I’m fifteen,” she said in
a desperate voice caught between
frustration
and crying.

“And I’m eighteen.”

She whipped around and
looked straight at him. “We’re only three years apart.”

He smiled. “Right now,
it feels like ten.”

They stood, staring at
each other in a companionable silence, broken only when Forrest let out a deep
breath.

“I’m leaving for college
in a few days.” 

Although it was summer,
the words chilled her spine. She needed to kiss him and let
him see, feel everything she felt inside but could find no
words to express. “What if I wasn’t fifteen?”

“Still
no.”

The
rejection, although gentler this time, still
cut deep into her heart
.

“Am I that unappealing to
you?”

He dragged his fingers
through h
is hair. “Claire.”

She held up a hand. “It
doesn’t matter. Most of the boys here are trying to figure out what to make of
me.
An African-American-Asian girl.
Is she pretty or just
weird-looking?” She shrugged with indifference, but deep down the quick glan
ces here and there bothered her.

“What do you care what
others think? You’re beautiful.”

An equal mixture of pure
ecstasy and excruciating pain made her heart go pit-a-pat. “You think I’m
beautiful?”

He nodded.
“Definitely.”

“So why won’t you kiss
me?”

Wit
h quick strides, he came to stand next to her and gently stroked her
cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You should be kissing boys your own age.”

She looked into his eyes
and her heart swelled from the emotion bottled inside. Feelings even she didn’t
unders
tand, let alone try to express. He gave her a
quick smile then walked back to the door. The bitter taste of regret stung her
tongue like a rusty razor blade. The moment she had planned, spent so many
sleepless nights imagining, had slipped from her hands.

He opened the door and
turned to look at her once more. “When you do kiss your crush, I hope it’s
everything you imagined it to be.” He smiled—a sweet, sexy smile that got her
all flustered—and then he walked out of the barn.

* * * *

Rain lashed down on
Claire in cold, icy pellets
bit into
her skin. Wet grass and
dirt mushed under her shoes, slashing up her legs and staining the skirt of her
dress. Focusing on Forrest, she quickened her pace. She had fallen asleep
watching her favorite soap opera.

Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.

She’d almost missed him.

“Forrest,” she called
after him, heart in her throat, fearful he would enter his parents waiting
pick-up truck and drive away forever. “Forrest,” she screamed his name again, a
dozen needles dancing in her stomac
h. She stopped,
her breathing stuttered in her lungs, exhausted from fear.

Please look at me.

He slowed his steps and
after a second or two he turned. “Claire,” he said, squinting.

Her heart leaped with joy.
She caught him just before his parents drove
away to
catch the ferry to Falmouth. Smiling, she ran forward, closing the distance
between them, and said through ragged breaths, “You’re leaving.”

“I know.” He looked over
his shoulder at his parents’ truck. “What are you doing? It’s pouring.”

She launch
ed herself at him, strong arms clamped around her waist. “I
love you,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut.

For a minute neither
moved, time stopped. They stood still, holding on to each other, their bodies
drenched from the downpour. She shivered, no
t from
the coldness of the rain but the string of electricity shooting through her
veins. Her heart, like a fly in a cobweb with nothing to do, waited for his
laughter to confirm how ridiculous she sounded. But it didn’t come. Sucking in
a breath, she wait
ed a little longer. Except for the
huge raindrops splattering with charged energy, there was absolute silence.

Slowly, she opened her
eyes and looked into the depth of his gray ones. A fluttery feeling took over
her body. “Forrest.”

He swept back her matte
d hair, and his lips cracked into a smile. “I’m your
crush.”

She shook her head. A
crush was the lowest level of romance. Her feelings ran beyond that. “It’s not
a crush.”

“Claire, you’re fifteen.”

The world around her
started collapsing. “I’m in love with
you,” she said
emphatically.

“It’s an infatuation.”

No. No. This was bigger
than an intense, naïve, adolescent admiration. She searched his face for any
hint that just maybe deep down he believed her, only to come up short. Empty.
Nothing.
Feeling weak an
d hopeless, her shoulders slumped. She was losing this
battle. “You’re going to have sex in college.”

He let out a heavy sigh.
“Claire.”

“I know about sex.”

“Jesus, Claire, if you’re
h
aving sex with some douchebag…
”

“I’m not having sex,” she
cried, fightin
g back the tears threatening to spill.
“But I know what it is. I don’t want you doing it with girls in college.” She
grabbed his arms. “Please wait for me.”

“What makes you think I
haven’t had sex?”

Raindrops, hard and thick,
hit her face like bullets. Wit
h a quick brush of her
hand, she swept matted hair away from her eyes. “I overheard you telling the
guys you were waiting for that person.” She was making a fool of herself but at
this point what did it matter. “You want it to be special…your first time.”
She swallowed the panic choking her. “I want to be your
first, Forrest, and you mine. I love you.”

He looked at her for a
long moment. His eyes became shadowed. Hope bubbled in her stomach. And then he
sighed, took a step back and broke their connection. H
er
heart dropped all the way to her toes.

“This is a crush. It will
pass
,
”
he said quietly.

“No.” He owned her heart.
Forever.
It didn’t matter she was
only fifteen. Some things only happened once in a lifetime and had nothing to
do with age. “Promise me, you’ll at least try to wait for me.”

“I have to go. I’m sorry,
Claire.” He touched her face and stared at her for a long beat.
“One day you’ll look back at this and laugh.”

“No,” she choked.

“Yes.”

Their gazes locked. The
pitiless rain continued thrashing her skin.

Forrest took her hand in
his and brought it to his lips. “I have to go.” He released his grip and walked
to his pare
nts’ truck. For a brief moment, he
hesitated and looked back. Hope stirred low in her belly,
then
he tossed his backpack in
the truck and shut the door.

Nausea pained her stomach,
heart and chest. She had waited for this moment to come forward with her dee
pest feelings and bring to life those three words she’d
been harboring.

She fought and lost.

Her world collapsed.

Emotionally bankrupt, she
stood in dazed isolation and took the onslaught of the
chilled
rain
. Her wet dress hugged
her, its weight heavy and
oppressing. With blind eyes
to the world, she stared at the shadow of the pick-up taillights until they
faded. It was hard to tell when she started crying and even more difficult to
discern between her tears and the rain as she turned her face to the sky a
bove. Her eyelids fluttered to deflect the water, she
wanted to move, to run, but her legs were weak and incapable of doing anything.
So she stood in the pelting rain and let her body and mind drown in the cold,
wet afternoon.

Chapter Two

“All my
life, my heart has
yearned for a thing I cannot name.”

Andre Breton

Chappaquiddick, Martha’s
Vineyard, Eleven years ago…

Two years after Forrest
left her broken, Claire was still his puppet. Technically she was single, but
her heart was hooked, taken by
someone she couldn’t
call her own. Sure, she’d managed to establish a little distance between them
whenever he visited the island, but only out of embarrassment.
A sanity check.

She even dated here and
there, kept up appearances, but nothing that could be
construed as boyfriend-girlfriend status. As the wolf pack’s adopted sister,
the major cock block, she was untouchable. Threats of major bodily harm came
with a promise to be inflicted on anyone who dared toy with her heart. Since
she had no interest in d
ating anyone other than
Forrest, the beyond reach pedestal suited her fine
..

Those who were brave
enough to ask her on a date were either too clingy or after one thing. She
didn’t like the band geeks she sang with. The boys from the debate club always
want
ed to discuss the variances between the Japanese
and American culture.
Yeah, no
thanks.
She didn’t even
know her father. And the
jocks—
they barely looked at her and she barely looked at them.
Besides who could hit a fastball the farthest, topic of conversa
tion was zilch. Well, Forrest was a jock, but he was also
smart. Brains and brawn…the perfect combination to make her heart do that
pitter-patter dance.

On her bed, lying flat on
her stomach, with her body stretched out long, Claire clicked on the mouse. T
he note reappeared on her computer screen and her heart
went crazy.

Dear Claire,

I just sent my last final to my professor. It’s late and
I’m sitting in the library…thinking about you.
Us.
Our friendship.
Two years ago, it broke my heart to walk away from you
crying in the rain. That image is tattooed in my heart. Like an old movie reel,
I’ve replayed that scene at will…over and over. I’ve searched for words to
apologize, to explain, but the words never se
emed
right. I hope you don’t hate me.

Our relationship has been a bit strained since that mo
ment, and I hope we can get past
it and continue as we used to be. You mean a lot to me,
much more than you will ever understand.

Anyhow, I’m coming home for Christ
mas
break. Charles has asked my parents if I can spend a day or two in Chappy. I
hope you and I will be able to hang out.

By the way, I wear glasses now. I sent you a picture,
not
sure if you received it
as I never heard back from you
. I thought I
’d
hate them and feel
like a
nerd, but let’s be real—
I’m the smartest out of
the bunch.

Well, I won’t write a journal, although I could go on and
on. I guess I don’t want to say goodbye. I miss you. I miss your smile, your
laughter, and all that you are.

Fo
rrest

In the last week, she must
have read the note a thousand times and had yet to grow tired of it. She held
on to each word, analyzing them for hidden meaning. She clicked open the photo
folder
. A
picture of Forrest with his new glasses filled her com
puter screen. Dressed in a dark gray hoodie and cargo
pants, he looked smart and so damn sexy.

Did he regret not kissing
her?

He said he missed her,
surely that meant…

She pushed the
thought–hope–aside and walked across her room to retrieve her jeans and t
he Northeastern sweatshirt he’d given to her. She slipped
her socked feet into her tennis shoes and scrunched her hair into a ponytail.

Ready. Set. Go!

Forrest was in Chappy
until tomorrow. He said he wanted to
hang out
and she knew where he’d
be. She’d w
aited, timed it perfectly until she knew
he’d be alone.

She tiptoed past her
mother’s bedroom, down the stairs as quietly as possible, holding her breath
the whole time until the door closed behind her. Claire stepped into the
blackness of the winter night
and scurried across the
backyard to the large oak tree. She looked up. At the very tippy top, the tree
house sat with magnificence. A miniature home Charles had custom designed and
built for the boys.

Forrest was up there.

A sharp twist rattled her
gut. U
nder the inky sky,
she pressed a hand to the nervous spot
in her stomach and looked around until she found what she’d been looking for.
A small swing hung at the
bottom, rocking with the whistling wind. Charles added it for her later after
the boys nailed a sign to the tree. The big, red letters still read
Girls Not Allowed. This means YOU Claire!

From the base of the tree,
she looked up
at the house. The deck was built high
in the trees with no stairs, halfway to the top a short ladder hung
precariously a few feet off the ground. If she wanted to go up, she had to
climb up.

Well, she was about to
break their rule. Not for the first time,
since she’d
been practicing whenever possible.

Claire positioned herself
on the rock underneath the tree, jumped and grasped onto an overhanging branch.
Her body swung, her legs flailed beneath her as she grappled for leverage. With
a push, she hoisted her
self up. Step by step, grab by
grab, she clambered up and moved closer, ignoring the scuff marks and scratches
on her hands from the rough bark. Adrenaline coursed unchecked, urging her to
go forward. Fight or flight. Stand or run. Halfway up the tree, she
eased her body onto the small ledge and braced herself for
the look on Forrest’s face when he realized she’d broken the protocol. Had
Jason been there, he’d probably shove her down. Good thing he was out with his
latest flavor of the month.

After a few mo
re steps, she reached her destination. Thoughts scattered,
too excited to think, she pushed the door open, stepped inside, and froze.
Forrest stood by the pool table with a beer in his hand. He wore a pair of
loose black sweats with the Northeastern Univer
sity
logo, battered sneakers, and a T-shirt plastered to his flat abs and broad
chest. Though his hair was rumpled and black glasses framed his eyes, he'd
grown into his already-striking features, with bone structure now well-defined
and perfectly symmetri
cal. He looked strong,
muscular, and more beautiful than ever.

He was…manly.

At twenty, his groupies
had expanded beyond teenage girls. Older women flirted more openly now whenever
he returned to the island. The few times she’d been around Forrest, his
adherent followers’ eyes would flick from her to him and
back again. Cool and composed, she’d gladly returned their contemptuous stares.

Forrest’s head jerked up
and their gazes locked. He placed the pool cue on the table and took a swig of
his beer
. H
is e
yes never wavered from where
she stood.

“In your
email.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. “You
said you wanted to um…spend time together.”

His hooded gaze swept over
her.
Feeling a bit self-conscious under his searching eyes
, she brushed
l
oose
strands of hair
from
her face. She peered at
her appearance–her sweatshirt hung haphazardly on her frame, her denims now
frayed. She bit her lower lip and frowned at the worn edge of her sneakers. She
looked ragged and unkempt, definitely not the way
to
go when attempting to seduce your crush.

“You broke a tree house
rule,” he said, voice low and rough.

Claire gulped
.
Ti
me
to say hello to her good
buddy, rejection.
She was all too familiar with that
uninvited houseguest. “Should I leave?”

His lips twit
ched. “Close the door, Claire. It’s cold outside.”

She
focused on the beer bottle
dangling
from
his hand. “You’re drinking.”

It wasn’t a question, but
for confirmation, he swallowed another large gulp.

“You’re not twenty-one
yet.” Damn it! She sounded like
a scared virgin.
Let’s add that to the list of
not the
image to go for
in the art of seduction.

He smiled. “Don’t tell
anyone and I won’t tell your mother you snuck out of the house to come up here
to be with me.”

There was something in his
expression, th
e way he spoke, that sent a rush of
heat along her spine. “I…”

He placed the beer on the
edge of the table, picked up the pool cue and aimed. Complete focus and
accuracy. “Don’t worry, I’m not drunk and I promise not to touch you,” he said
after making the
shot.

Too bad.
She wanted to be touched.
Claire closed the door behind her.

“We sneak beer up here.”
He pressed one finger over his lips. “Charles and Victoria can’t know, or your
mom.”

“What else do you sneak up
here?”

He tore his attention from
the pool
table and looked at her. “You mean who. You
want to know if we bring girls up here.”

She didn’t care about what
Jason, Blake, or Adam did. As good looking as they were, she didn’t want them.
“Do you?”

“Girls are not allowed,
remember?”

Something loosened
in her chest.
Relief.

“Do you play pool?”

“I played once.” She
’d
been terrible, but no
need to divulge inconsequential little tidbits of information.

He came to stand next to
her.
“On a date?”

He was
so
close
to her
, all six feet plus inches
of masculine
strength, making it impossible to
breathe, much less think. So she nodded. He was silent for a moment, then to
her surprise
a faint smile curved his lips as he handed her the pool
cue.

“Play with me.”

“I’m not very good.”

“I’ll teach you.” He
tipped his
head forward. “Come on, let’s play and
talk.”

Excitement bubbled up
inside Claire’s stomach, her champagne cork ready to burst.
She
took the pool cue from
him and moved to the other side of the table. “Do we need to break?”

 
“Let’s finish this round as a warm-up for
you. You can have–” He examined the table.
“Solids.”