Unraveled (13 page)

He turns his
attention to the piercing he picked out and carefully lets it slide out of the
package and onto his palm. “I like it, but if you don't, I'd prefer you to pick
something that's more to your taste.”

I smile when
I see the piercing. It's not a ring, it's one of those double piercings and
there's a tiny sparkly jewel in the top and a dangling silver flower that looks
like a lily for the bottom. I love it.

“Perfect,” I
say firmly.

He slips the
little jewel back in its packaging and turns serious. “You know, if you've
changed your mind, it's okay. You don't have to get a piercing.”

“I've wanted
a piercing forever and now that I'm eighteen, it's on my list of things to do,”
I assure before I head for the front. When it's my turn to sign up for an
appointment, I sign my name and hand the sheet back.

“I'll be
adding my name to it as well,” Noah says from behind me.

“What?” I
spin around and stare at him.

He smiles
slightly at the expression on my face. “I've been thinking about getting
another tattoo for a while now, but nothing really caught my eye until
tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yes,
really,” he muses as he accepts the clip board the tattooed girl behind the
counter holds out to him.

We sign
papers and show our ID’s. Then Noah pays for both his tattoo and my piercing
before I can protest. I'd brought some cash with just in case I saw something I
liked if we went shopping and I feel bad he's paying for the entire night so
far.

Once
everything is in order, we have to wait our turn so we go sit on a couch in the
waiting area.

“Where are
you having it done?” I ask Noah curiously when his eyes meet mine.

“I haven't
figured that out yet. Where would you put it?”

In my mind I
envision his naked chest and I can totally see it on a pectoral muscle. Or even
on his back shoulder blade. Or even down by his ribs. I could see it anywhere.
I glance at Noah and shrug. “It's entirely up to you.”

“You were
thinking pretty hard there.”

“I was,” I
drawl.

“Imagining
my body.”

“Mmhmm.”

Noah chokes
back a laugh and I follow the direction of his gaze and see that there's a
skinny guy around my age sitting across from us on another couch. He is
obviously listening to our conversation with great interest.

I bite back
a laugh and turn to face Noah. “You put it where you want,” I say seriously.

“I would anyway,
but I was curious where you'd put it if you were me.”

“Nah, you
just wanted me to think about your body.”

“That too.”

With a shake
of my head, I pick up the little plastic packet that has my jeweled piercing in
it and study it until a muscular tattooed guy with a mohawk calls my name. I
rise to my feet and glance at Noah. “You want to come with?”

He nods and
rises to his feet as well.

We follow
the tattooist through a private door and down a hall to a small room. Then he
holds out a hand to me. “I'm Moe.”

“Blayre,” I
say as we shake hands.

He
introduces himself to Noah as well before he motions for me to sit in the chair
in the middle of the room. It reclines back and reminds me of a dentist's
chair. “So, you want your belly button pierced today,” he says as he holds his
hand out for the piercing I'm holding.

I set it in
his palm and nod.

“This your
first piercing?”

“Yes.”

“I'll
explain everything I'll be doing first and if you're still for it, we'll give
it a go,” he says.

“Okay.”

I'm not
backing out so once he's done explaining the procedure, I give him the go
ahead. Noah stands to the side and we watch as Moe sterilizes his equipment and
the jewelry. Then he slips on some gloves after reclining my chair so that I am
laying on my back. I peer up to Noah and I see he's watching Moe's every move
intently. He sees me looking at him and he flashes me a smile that I quickly
return. When I pull up my shirt, Moe hesitates when he sees all the bruising on
my ribs. His hazel eyes actually narrow and shift to Noah suspiciously.

“It wasn't
him and it's been taken care of,” I say simply.

Moe studies
me a moment before nodding and returning back to his job. When he cleans my
bellybutton with a cold alcohol swab, I squirm a little but then I lay still as
he applies some local anesthetic.

My eyes
close and I feel Moe use a felt tip marker to mark the in and out spot of the
piercing before he gets to work. I feel cool metal—probably the small metal
forceps I saw earlier—pinch my skin briefly before there's a slight push and
another pinch.

A few
minutes later Moe announces I am done and I find the seat reclining back up
again. I peer down at my bellybutton and grin widely when I see the little
dangling piercing. I love it.  After Moe hands me a sheet with the
aftercare instructions, he asks if I have further questions.

Next, it is
Noah's turn. Moe disappears to make a copy of the tattoo and to take it down by
a half inch as Noah requested.

“Where's it
going?” I ask with interest.

He sits down
in the chair and pulls off his shirt. “Here,” he says, pointing right over his
heart.

I try not to
ogle his tanned skin and toned abs as I nod in agreement.

Noah's
tattoo takes about a half hour and then we are back on the sidewalk, continuing
on with our evening. It's still early but I'm not quite sure what I'm in the
mood for. Bowling would be okay but it wasn't exactly something I was up for
and a movie was out because Noah needed captions or would have to read lips. He
wouldn't be able to just kick back and relax because he'd be concentrating too
hard on the movie.

As we walk
beneath a streetlight, Noah pauses and turns to me. “You want to hit a club?”

My surprise
is clearly written all over my face.

“I don't
like clubs but I like them when I'm with you.” His eyes roam my face as he
watches my reaction.

“Bull. You
just want to grind with me,” I can't help but tease.

“Absolutely.
If that's the only way I can get close to you, I'll gladly go back to the club
again. Not to mention I noticed how your eyes lit up the last time we went. You
thrive on that kind of atmosphere.”

“Aren't you
worried Tate will find out?”

“Truthfully,
yes. You need to live a little tonight though, so it'll be worth taking the
chance. No alcohol,” he warns.

“Yes, Dad.”

He grimaces
over my usual teasing over our age difference. “Not funny, Blayre.”

“Sure, it
was. C'mon old man,” I say as I lead him in the direction where we'd left the
car.

This time
around, Noah is more willing when we walk into the club and he even turns down
my offer of some 'liquid courage' as I call it. We make our way to the dance
floor and we immediately move into each other's arms and dance. I find that it
doesn't take as long for Noah to warm up tonight and it feels good to be in his
arms. I'd learned that when I'm not near him...I miss him.

I'm falling
too hard for him and I'm going to get my heart broken. He'd never intentionally
hurt me but there will eventually be something that he won't like and he'll
walk away. And when that happens, I won't blame him.

A while
later a slow song is playing and I'm pressed against Noah as close as I can get
while we dance. For me, it's not nearly close enough but I am not about to step
across the boundary I set. He's addicting as it is and to take things that far
again would make it all that much harder for me when it ends.

Noah can't
hear the music but he sways to the music easily as he pays attention to my
every move. I'm feeling content as I rest my head on his shoulder when I spot a
familiar face in the crowd.

Cole is on
the dance floor as well, about fifteen feet away. He has a pretty blonde in his
arms and her tongue is currently down his throat, his hands resting
possessively on her ass. Jealousy streaks through my veins and I tense up.

Noah,
sensing the change in my body pulls away slightly, probably to peer down at me,
but my eyes are focused on the couple making out. Confusion and disgust sweeps
through me as I try to untangle the turmoil going on in my head. How can I be
jealous? He
beat
me just a week ago. I should hate him and I swear I do
but yet my chest aches at the sight of him in another girl's arms.

A gentle
hand against my cheek turns my face back to meet Noah's tight gaze. He's
obviously noticed Cole as well. “Let's call it a night.”

I nod and
turn abruptly, leaving the dance floor with Noah right on my heels. We're
completely silent as we leave the club and make our way back to the car. By
that time my feet ache and I want to scream with frustration.

The ride
home is silent as well and as soon as we step in the house, Noah flips on the
light and touches my arm at the same time. Concern darkens his face. “Talk to
me. Please.”

I stare up
at him with absolute confusion. How can I still be hung up on Cole? I feel
awful that I still feel
something
for him while Noah stands here before
me, trying to help.

Slowly, I
shake my head. “Good night, Noah,” I murmur before I turn and walk away.

“Please
don't do anything, Blayre. Talk with me,” he pleads from behind me.

My feet hesitate
near the kitchen doorway before I move forward again and head straight up to my
room where I lock the door. As I sit on my bed with my razor, I half expect
Noah to barge in but instead he respects my privacy.

I draw the
blade across my skin and when I'm done, I feel even more lost than I had
before. I'd thought I could put Cole out of my mind and it would be done—that
it would be over. I was wrong. I also knew he wanted me to see him tonight
because there is no way he could have been that close and not seen me first.
He'd wanted to hurt me.

I stare
moodily down at the bloody razor.

He
succeeded, and in return I'd cut another line across my bikini area. It's a
twisted cycle I can't seem to break. With a shaky sigh, I wipe the razor off
and clean myself up, using the Band-Aids I'd hidden under my mattress. After I
strip out of the rest of my clothes and slip on my usual sleepwear, I open my
bedroom door to use the bathroom and come to an abrupt halt.

Noah is
sitting on the floor across from my room, his back against the wall as he
stares up at me sadly. There's no way he could have seen me, but he knows.

“Go to bed,”
I say softly before I avert my gaze and step back into my room, firmly shutting
the door.

My bladder
could wait.

The next
morning it finally dawns on me that Thanksgiving is the following Thursday when
over breakfast Tate announces Noah is going to make a huge dinner—the whole
deal, with turkey, stuffing, and all the other dishes that people eat during
the holidays. He goes on about how it'll just be us three this year, that he
wants to keep it strictly family.

He never
notices my body tensing slightly or my tight smile and it's a good thing Noah
wasn't up yet because he could read me easily whereas my brother was oblivious
to it all. I don't have the heart to tell my brother that I hate Thanksgiving.
That I hate any kind of holiday because they were never meant for me. Julie and
Steve had made that abundantly clear through the years.

Thanksgiving
is going to be a nightmare unless I can find a way out of it.

I scramble
for the first excuse I can think of to go back upstairs where I don't have to
hear any more about the upcoming holiday. It turns out, I have ridiculously bad
timing today and Noah is just coming out of my room when I come around the
corner. I stare at him incredulously as I catch sight of the box of Band-Aids
I'd hidden beneath my mattress along with the Kleenex in his hands.

Guilt
flickers across his features when he sees me.

“Did you
find what you were looking for?” I ask coldly, though I know he didn't because
hiding the blade beneath the carpet was a place no one would consider looking.

Noah stands
before me, his expression conflicted. “Blayre—”

“Don't,” I
say flatly as I brush past him and walk into my bedroom. I turn to shut the
door but Noah is right on my heels. “Get out.”

He tosses
the Kleenex and Band-Aids aside and rubs his face with his hands in frustration
before he stares hard at me. “Nothing's changed. Nothing. You do it just as
often as you always have, don't you?”

“You can't
change me.”

“I don't
want to change you! You need help.”

“If I wanted
help I'd ask for it.”

“That's the
thing, Blayre. You'll never ask for help because you don't expect anyone to
give it,” he says, his voice heavy with defeat.