Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
LIAM
TEN YEARS AGO
“ W ill it hurt?” Sophie’s voice is low and sweet as she lies on the tattoo chair. Her face is turned toward me, her ocean-blue eyes searching mine for reassurance while the tattoo artist prepares the area behind her ear.
I squeeze her hand gently, offering a smile meant for comfort. “A little,” I admit, my voice as soft as I can, “but you’re tough. You’ll handle it like a champ.” I’m trying to prepare her, if I tell her it doesn’t hurt at all, and it actually does, it will be worse.
Her lips twitch into a tentative smile, and she squeezes my hand back, a silent thank you. “Okay, I trust you. I’m with you, so it’s gonna be okay,” she murmurs.
“With me,” I affirm softly, feeling a surge of protectiveness.
The tattoo artist looks over, his experienced eyes assessing her readiness. “Are you ready?” he asks in a tone that's both professional and kind. Sophie nods, her response a quick, “Yes,” barely audible over the growing buzz of the tattoo machine.
Her grip tightens, and I can tell she’s feeling the first sting of the needle. “Just focus on breathing,” I remind her, my other hand moving over her arm, grounding her.
I can see her jaw clench slightly, the first line of discomfort etching across her face, but she doesn’t say a word.
“Tell me something. A story. Anything.”
I smile slightly, understanding her need for distraction. “Alright, let me tell you about the first time I really embarrassed myself in front of my crush,” I begin, noticing her interest peak amidst the discomfort. “An old crush?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting together.
“Yes, I was about fourteen, and me and some friends from school were at Planege Beaue Riavge , it’s a beach club in Nice,” I say, and her eyes widen in shock.
“You were just casually hanging out at beach clubs at fourteen?”
“One of my friend’s fathers owned it back then, so we hung out there as much as we could after school and between my corporate lessons with Ammo Antoine.”
Sophie's expression mixes surprise with amusement. “You were living the high life at fourteen, huh?” she teases, wincing as the tattoo artist continues his work.
I laugh, the sound echoing softly in the small studio we found tucked away in an alley off the main street—Lucas will kill me when he finds out I got another tattoo at some back alley parlor, but these ones are just the best.
“It sounds fancier than it was. Really, we were just a bunch of kids getting into trouble, thinking we were cooler than we were.” I pause, recalling the vivid details of that sun-drenched afternoon.
“Anyway, there was this girl, Manon. She was beautiful, confident, and completely out of my league. But I was determined to impress her.”
Sophie’s laughter trickles out, mingled with a slight grimace as the needle continues its work. “Let me guess, it didn’t go as planned?”
“Not even close.” I chuckle, shaking my head at the memory. “I decided I’d show off my diving skills. During that time, they had put up a diving platform further into the ocean. There were three diving points.”
I continue, the memory growing clearer as I describe the scene, “The first was pretty low, easy for beginners. The second was a bit of a challenge, and the third, well, that was for the daredevils—way higher than most people would dare.”
Sophie’s lips part slightly, intrigue flashing in her eyes. “You went for the third one, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” I say, a huge grin spreading on my face as if I’m proud of my failure. “I wanted to impress her so badly, I didn’t even consider that I’d never actually dived from that height before.
I pause for a moment, the embarrassing details flooding back. “So, there I am, climbing up to the highest point, feeling every eye on the beach tracking me. I mean, the climb itself was nerve-wracking. And when I finally made it to the edge, looking down at the water so far below, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. It was so high, Soph, and I started contemplating not jumping. To just turn around.”
Sophie chuckles. “You didn’t jump, I hope.”
“I wish I hadn't,” I admit with a laugh. “I stood there a good long while, trying to muster the courage. Unfortunately, people started cheering, egging me on, and well pride is a tough thing. I couldn’t back down, not with Manon watching.”
“And?” Sophie prompts, wincing again but clearly engaged.
“And I jumped. But it was less of a dive and more of a… Well, a screaming flail. I hit the water so hard, belly-flopping in front of everyone. It knocked the wind right out of me. I came up sputtering, and gasping for air, my dignity nowhere to be found. Even the lifeguards were trying not to laugh while saving me.”
“Oh no, Liam! That sounds painful.”
“She never spoke to me again. It was bruising in more ways than one,” I admit. “But you know what? It put things into perspective for me. I learned a valuable lesson about trying too hard to impress someone.”
“That you should never dive to impress a girl?” she teases, a playful glint in her eyes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not quite. More like, to not try to impress a girl who doesn’t see me. To save those efforts for someone important.” She watches me curiously as I speak. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that the person I want to impress now is someone who really gets me. Not just the surface stuff—the dives, the jokes—but the real, sometimes quiet, sometimes complicated person underneath.”
My gaze drifts off momentarily, lost in thoughts of how–for Sophie–I’d dive off hundreds of platforms if it meant impressing her. “That girl deserves the world. And for her, I’d belly-flop from any height,” I add, my voice lowering with sincerity.
As my eyes meet hers again, they carry an unspoken connection, a silent acknowledgment that perhaps, just perhaps, she understands that she is very much the main character of those thoughts.
“All done,” the tattoo artist announces, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he steps back to let her see the mirror. His announcement snaps us back to the present.
Sophie gets up slowly, moving to the mirror with a mix of eagerness and nervousness. Her hand reaches up, touching the small, beautifully detailed tattoo delicately. It's three forget-me-nots.
“It's perfect,” she breathes out, her face lighting up with a radiant smile. She turns to me, her eyes shining. “Thank you, Liam.”
“No need to say th— ouff .” My words are cut short as she crashes into me. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my hand instinctively caressing the back of her head. She doesn’t answer. “ Sunshine? ” The nickname slips out effortlessly. It suits her perfectly—she’s radiant, her smile warming me up like the sun’s rays, a warmth I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. And every time she's not around, I’m left cold, craving her warmth.
Her eyes meet mine as she looks up, and they look even lighter with the tears filling them. “Can you take a photo, so I can send it to my dad?” she asks, her voice quivering slightly with emotion.
I kiss the top of her head. “Of course I can,” I assure her, feeling a tug at my heartstrings. She releases her grip on me sooner than I’d like. If it were up to me, I would have held her for much longer, just to ensure she felt safe.
Taking her phone from her, I get ready to capture the perfect shot of her new tattoo. Before I snap the photo, I gently move her hair aside to ensure the tattoo is fully visible. My fingers slide over the soft skin of her neck, and I notice goosebumps erupting under the light touch. My touch affected her. The thought sends a quiet thrill through me, but I focus on the task at hand, capturing a photo that she’ll be proud to share.
She takes the phone back and sends it to her father. “Okay, now on to the next tattoo?” she says with a playful smirk.
“The next tattoo?” I echo, a bit confused. “There isn’t a next.”
“I’m getting one on my finger like you.” She’s completely serious, her eyes steady on mine.
I glance down at the Arabic scribble on my finger, Nasib .
“Why would you get that?”
“Because meeting you feels like destiny,” she explains, her voice soft but firm. “Being with you here now, it feels like it was always meant to happen.”