This One’s For You Page 34

  “It’s tribal,” he answered my silent question. “I plan to have a full sleeve by the time I’m done.”

  “You aren’t afraid your parents are going to kill you?”

  “Mine?” He laughed loudly. “My dad has so many tattoos that I eventually lost count.”

  I wasn’t expecting that answer in return. It might be stereotypical of me, but his father was a teacher and a football coach. Not the kind of person I’d expect to have a tattoo. But then again, in this day and age, tattoos were more socially acceptable. My parents were just old fashioned and missed the memo like everyone else.

  “All right, your turn,” Sam pressed. “Let’s see it.”

  I held up my arm, pulling back on the white material wrapped around my wrist. “What’s it for?”

  “My best friend,” I answered softly. Owen walked over toward me, gently taking my hand in his, and looking down at the tattoo on my skin. He looked to me, gazing at me softly, and silently asking me to elaborate.

  I took a deep breath before diving into my explanation. “My best friend Reagan,” I started, keeping my eyes locked onto Owen’s. I reached for the locket and charm and began to rub it. “She loved panda bears.” I glanced down at the dainty panda on the underside of my wrist. “She used to hold all these fundraisers at school, the whole ‘Save the Pandas from extinction’ kind of thing.”

  I inhaled another deep breath before continuing. “The drumsticks . . .” I referred to the drumsticks the panda held in each hand... “are because she was the best female percussionist our high school’s drumline had seen in years. She made center snare our sophomore year, and beat that snare like it was no one’s business.”

  One would never think that Reagan played the drums with one look at her. She was the typical preppy, popular girl. No one would ever stop to think she was a band geek. But she was perhaps the biggest band geek I knew. Not only did she play the snare, but she also played the alto saxophone for the jazz band. And she was just as brilliant.

  She also taught herself to play the electric guitar. I was always jealous of that blue guitar she mastered so easily. She had once tried to teach me the basic chords for Blink-182’s “Adam’s Song,” which I failed miserably. Reagan was the girl who all girls strived to be, who all the girls in school was jealous of. She was beautiful, talented in more than one area, excelled in school, and made friends with every person she came across. Add in the fact that she was the nicest girl you’d ever meet, and you had one hell of a person.

  “I think it’s perfect,” Owen said, as if we were the only two in the room.

  “What about you?” I replied softly. “Can I see yours?”

  “Maybe one day.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “That is not fair.”

  “All is fair in love and war,” he retorted, pulling his lips into a mischievous grin.

  I rolled my eyes. “You seriously did not just use that line on me.”

  Owen dropped my hand and stepped closer. “Oh, but I did,” he teased.

  “You play so unfair,” I retaliated. As always, the world seemed to fade away from around us as we got lost in each other’s eyes. I reached up, brushing away the hair that tickled his eyebrows. “So . . . can I see the tattoo now?”

  “Another time,” he said flatly. He pulled away from my touch. Turning around, he walked over to Jay. “How much do I owe you?”

  I listened to the two of them as they discussed the price of whatever he had done on Owen. It was almost triple the amount as mine cost. After Laurie had finished, I went to pay her, but she told me that it had already been taken care of.

  As Jay and Owen continued to talk, Callen had joined us, showing off his ink. He went with the similar route as Sam, only the tribal piece he had gotten spread across the length of his shoulders.

  Owen had wrapped things up with Jay, and we started to make our way back to the car. I couldn’t help but feel irritated. I didn’t know why Owen basically refused to show me his tattoo. What was the big deal that he wanted to keep it a secret? I stewed on it, letting the anger get the best of me.

  Owen’s hand held mine as we walked. He stared straight ahead and wouldn’t meet my gaze. I squeezed it before whispering in his ear, “I’m paying you back as soon as we get back to the dorms.”

  He continued to stare straight ahead. His shoulders tense. “It was a gift.”

  “I don’t care,” I snapped.

  Owen slowed us to a stop, finally turning to look at me. I peeked over to see that the other two hadn’t noticed. “What’s wrong, Brenn?”

  “Why won’t you show me your tattoo?” I came right out with it.

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s personal—something I’ve been working on for the last year.”

  “And you don’t think your girlfriend, someone you’re supposedly falling for, should be allowed to see it?”

  Oh no, I was losing my control. I knew deep down I was throwing this completely out of proportion, but I couldn’t help myself. Owen opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

  “You know what, save it,” I said, anger lacing my voice. I pulled my hand from his. “I don’t even want to hear what you have to say. Tell Sam to take me back to the dorms.”

  I turned and stormed off. “Brennan . . .” he called out to me. “Stop.”

  My feet obeyed his command. And though I stopped, I didn’t turn to face him. I felt him closing in on me. My chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. I knew what was happening. I knew why I was acting like this. It was my way of pushing him away. I needed to stop, get myself in check, before I said something I regretted.

  “Please, don’t be mad at me,” Owen pleaded as he came to a stop in front of me.

  I sighed heavily. How could I tell him I wasn’t really mad about the tattoo? That for some reason, I was using it as an excuse to push him away, and that I had no idea why.

  “Just take me back to the dorm.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I DIDN’T SAY A WORD on the drive back to the dorms. I caught Sam glancing at me several times through the rearview mirror. As soon as he pulled into the parking spot, I unbuckled my seat belt, opened the door, and climbed out.

  I knew Owen was following me, and that he was hot on my tail. I passed the elevator, not wanting to be stuck with him, and started to take the stairs two at a time.

  “Brennan!” he called out for me as I opened my door. I slammed it in his face just as he reached it. There was a thud against the wood. I sighed, leaning back against the door. “Please . . .” I heard his muffled voice. “Let me in.”

  I held my breath, silently hoping he’d go away. There was another soft thud against the frame, and it sounded like he slid down against it. I sank to the floor, unable to grasp why I was doing this. My cell phone chirped, and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Owen.

  Can we please talk about this?

  I dropped my phone to the floor and it made a quiet patter against the carpet. All I needed was a moment to think, to figure out why I was doing this. It wasn’t a big deal, it was only a tattoo. So why was I getting myself worked up over it?

  I sat on the floor, unsure of how much time had passed by. Eventually, I pushed myself off the floor, deciding it was time to end this ridiculous charade once and for all. If Owen didn’t want to tell me about the tattoo, then so be it, I wasn’t going to force him—or hold it against him.

  I steadied myself, gathering the strength I needed, and opened the door. No one was there. I stared wistfully across the hall, trying to get my feet to move forward, but I suddenly lost all the courage I had. I shook my head, mentally yelling at myself for being absurd, and closed the door.

  I laid on my bed, watching as the time ticked by. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. The sun was starting to set by the time I sat up on my bed.

  I couldn’t continue to lay around waiting for Owen. No, I needed to go to him. I ne
eded to apologize, I needed to make up for my crude behavior earlier today. I moved to leave the room. I jumped back, squealing, and not expecting to see Owen standing in front of me.

  His hand was raised, as if he was ready to knock. “Owen . . .” I said hesitantly. “I-I was just coming to—”

  “I’m sorry.” He cut me off.

  “Sorry?” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “If anyone is sorry, it’s me. I overreacted and shouldn’t have.”

  He stepped forward, causing me to step back, and he entered my room, closing the door behind him. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t let you see it earlier, but I’m ready to show you now.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He didn’t listened, and started to tug his shirt over his head. I gasped, my eyes falling on the intricate design taking up the majority of his side. I reached out, grazing my fingertips against his skin.

  “What is it?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “Remember that day in mythology class?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate. “The day I asked about the story of Pyramus and Thisbe.” I nodded my head. I remembered that day like it was yesterday; it was the day I learned he was the TA for my class. “Well, this is my take on it.”

  I looked back at the black-and-grayscale artwork on his body. Studying it carefully, taking in every detail. A male figure was laying under a tree—the mulberry tree from the story—his body lifeless. Standing above him was a woman whose face showed she was clearly in pain. A sword jutted out from her chest, in the place where her heart would be. It depicted the tragic ending of their love story.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, tracing the tattoo with my fingers. Tears stung my eyes. I had never seen a piece of work as emotional as the one he boasted on his side. “Is there a meaning for it? I mean, why’d you get it?”

  “You’re not the only one who has lost someone they love,” he said, his voice so soft that I barely heard him.

  “Wha—” I started to ask when he crashed his lips against mine. Silencing the words I was trying to say.

  It caught me by surprise, but only took a second for me to get wrapped up in the moment. He pulled me close, leading me toward my bed. The back of my knees bumped against my mattress. I giggled against his lips softly. He carefully lowered me to the top of my bed. He supported his weight with his hands, keeping his mouth locked on mine.

  I deepened the kiss, pulling him toward me. He weighed down on me as we melted into one another. His tongue grazed my lips, and I parted my mouth, tasting the familiar mint I had grown accustom to.

  I dug my nails into his back as he pressed his growing length against the sweet spot between my legs. Owen moaned, devouring my mouth with his. He moved to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he went. I tilted my head back, grinding my body against his.

  He ran his hand under my shirt, squeezing my side. His hand moved farther up, slipping under the thin, padded material of my bra, and cupped my breast. He lightly pinched my nipple, causing a wave of excitement to vibrate throughout my body.

  Without a word, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Owen paused for a moment, meeting my gaze, before placing a kiss between my breasts. He moved slowly, deliberately, down my torso. My breath was shaky as he fumbled with the top of my jeans.

  He pushed up on to his knees. Lifting one foot in the air, he began to slowly tug on my pant leg. His eyes were glued to mine as one leg was free, and he moved onto the other side. Time moved slowly, and before I knew it, I was lying there in only my black bra and matching underwear.

  He leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of my body, and hovered over me. “Before this goes any further,” he said, his voice full of desire, “I want to make sure that you’re sure about this.”

  “I’ve never be more sure about anything in my life until now.”

  “There’s no going back,” he continued. “Once it happens, you can’t change it.”

  “Owen.” I reached up and brushed his cheek. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  He hesitated for only a second before giving in to my demand. This time, his kisses were full of hunger, full of desire, like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers played with the top of the lace on my underwear. I inhaled a sharp breath as he slowly moved his hand lower. He paused, looking at me again, and raised an eyebrow. I nodded.

  Slowly, he slipped a finger between my legs. At a steady pace, he moved his hand back and forth, in and out. My body shook with pleasure. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, and moved my hips in time with his hand.

  I could feel the pleasure building, my body screaming for release. “Owen,” I said breathlessly. “I-I . . .”

  “Let it go.”

  My body rocked as it reached its peak. I bit down on my lip, keeping the scream that rose at bay. Owen’s strokes rapidly increased, his finger moving in and out. I shuddered as I finally let go of the release I so desperately needed.

  Owen’s lips crashed down against mine. I clawed at his shirt, not so gracefully pulling it over his head. He quickly removed his jeans and lay on top of me, his bulge pressing against me through the thin material of his underwear.

  “Are you sure?” he asked again. I could see the hesitation and fear in his eyes.

  I hooked my fingers into the top of his boxer briefs, pulling them down, and his erection sprang free. I wrapped my hand around the back of his head, forcefully tugging him toward me, and our lips connected. His hands ran up and down my body as our tongues did the familiar dance.

  Our breaths were ragged; the atmosphere around us was thick. I nipped at his lower lip, playfully tugging on it. “Hold on,” I said breathlessly.

  I reached over toward the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a foil packet. He quirked an eyebrow and stared at me questioningly. I tore open the condom, sliding it over his manhood.

  He stared into my eyes, lining the tip of his length with my entrance. I took a deep breath as he slid slowly inside me.

  ***

  “Brennan?” Owen whispered.

  I was tracing circles with my fingers along his stomach. “Hmm?”

  “I didn’t come here with the intention of that happening.”

  “Shh . . .” I placed my finger against his lips, silencing him. “You’re ruining the moment.”

  Owen sighed heavily, pushing himself into an upright position, and jostling me to the side by accident. He buried his face in his hands. His shoulders were tense. I sat up next to him, wrapping my arms around his torso.

  “Owen, look at me,” I said, placing my hand over his and turning his head toward me. He took a deep breath before letting his hands fall into his lap. His eyes were wet and sad. I offered him a small smile. “I don’t regret what just happened. It was the greatest experience of my life. If I could go back, I’d do it all over again. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “But—” he started.

  “No buts,” I interrupted. “I wanted it to happen just as much as you did, if not more. I’ve waited for so long to find someone to share myself with, and I’m so glad it was you, okay?”

  He took my face into his hands. “You.” He kissed me gently. “Are.” Kiss. “Amazing.” Another kiss. His thumb ran along my cheekbone as he gazed into my eyes. “I’m crazy about you. I have been from the moment you bumped into me.”

  “I did not bump into you!” I exclaimed.

  “Oh yes, you did,” he retorted.

  He grinned widely, moved his hands down to my sides, and started to tickle me. I squirmed, trying to get away from his hands, and my legs kicked under the blanket. I broke out into a fit of laughter. My cheeks warming from all the commotion.

  The door flew open, slamming against the wall behind it, and in walked Amelia. The both of us froze. I was glad Owen had at least redressed himself from the waist down, and that I had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top.

  “Don’t you have a
room the two of you can hang out in?” she asked, her tone snippy. She seemed annoyed at the two of us lying in my bed. “One where you don’t have to worry about a roommate walking in at any given moment.”

  “Are you okay?” I asked, pulling the covers off of me, and putting my feet on the floor.

  “I’m awesome,” she replied sarcastically. “I just want to go to bed. Is that okay?”

  Owen climbed out of my bed, tugging his shirt over his head. “I better go,” he said.

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on my roommate, who threw her bag at the foot of her bed. He kissed the top of my head before leaving the room without saying another word. When I heard the door close, I rose to my feet.

  “Do you need to talk?” I asked cautiously. “I’m here for you, you know that.”

  “Right now, all I want to do is go to bed, and not be bothered,” she snapped.

  I sank back onto my bed, unsure of where all the hostility was coming from. I suddenly missed the outgoing, bubbly person I met at the beginning of the year. Where did she go? Ever since she came back from Christmas break, she’d been acting like this. Distancing herself from everyone and not being the politest person around.

  She had her rare moments, like when my brothers came down for the basketball game. But it was the last time she went out with us. It was the last time I truly saw her enjoying herself. Now, she just seemed cold and bitter, and I had no idea why.

  I watched silently as she walked across the room, turned off the light, and then collapsed onto her bed. She said nothing, just pulled the covers over her head, and rolled over to her side. I sat there, in the dark, staring at the back of her head until I felt my eyes getting heavy. I laid down, thinking about what happened prior to my roommate’s return.

  I felt sore down there, in a good way. A reminder of what Owen and I had shared with each other. The thought brought a smile to my face. I rolled to my side, looking at the wall until I finally succumbed to exhaustion.