“No judgment.” He comments. “I get it.”
“Maybe.”
His eyes play a game of tracing my reaction. “A guy?”
Not anymore. In the beginning, Aiden was like an avalanche in my mind, toping anything else. “I needed to find myself. Make my memorieslike my dad.”
“This is a good place to start.” He sits still, contemplating.
I can’t read him. Not really. Yet, he has something honest that sparkles in his eyes even though he can turn that off in a split second.
I stroke his skin with the needle, watching the black ink taint his wrist. “Why did you come?”
“I needed a break. I’m also here to give bike lessons.” The tone of his voice switches to something more energetic. “Stunts and stuff.”
“That’s nice.” I tilt my gaze up and he’s already fixated on me. I’m caged under his penetrative gaze. It’s silent yet so loud, that it makes my heart pick up speed.
“I never pictured myself as an instructor.” He finally says.
“What did you see yourself as?”
He finally tears his gaze away and looks outside.
From our point of view, the open road is right in front of us and some bikers already testing the lane with their wheels. “The one on the tracks.”
“Why can’t you be both?” I outline another letter. “You shouldn’t limit yourself.” I keep my eyes on his tattoo.
“Guess so.” The distant sound of his voice tells me he’s deep in thought. “Can you add tire tracks underneath the line?”
I fix the details in my head to match the size of what we currently have. “Sure. It’ll be small. I’ll shade it nicely without filling it completely.”
“Do it.” He answers readily, still distant.
I ink the inner side of his wrist for approximately ten minutes of radio silence. In my head, the quiet is equivalentto screams. At least the engines outside generate lovely symphonies.
He stretches his free hand. “So your favorite sport is bumping into people?” He pretends to cough. “Or is it just me?”
There he is.
I was getting worried.
My ears perk to the sound of a bike flying past us. “It was an accident.” I take a long inhale, letting it escape out of my mouth as the sound passes.
That was hot.
The satisfaction sparkles in his eyes as well. “The first time, maybe. The second time, it’s starting to become a pattern.” He sounds so amused by himself.
I wash his ink with a bottle I prepared prior. “The third time, I’ll buy you a Band-Aid.” I add a layer of paper towel, pour some more, clean it, and resume finishing my work.
“Add a pack of cigarettes and we have a deal,” he quips.
“You drive a hard bargain,” I sass back with a grin and a tiny laugh escapes my mouth as I shake my head sideways.
“Relationships or being on your own?” He changes the subject, propping his booted feet over his knee while his free hand rests on top of his helmet.
“I prefer tattoos, they hurt less and last longer.” I muster my most sincere expression. “I already told you, I came here for me and I’m not interested.”
I want my man to make an effort in our relationship, same as me. I don’t want to lead him on. Right now, I’m here for me.It needs to stay that way.
