22. Raleigh
Raleigh
22
16 YEARS OLD
The tattoo artist grunts at me. “Hypothetically Yours?” The big gruff dude asks. “Isn’t that the song by that new boy band? Devil’s Obsession or something like that?”
“First off, they’re not a boy band. They’re a rock band. Big difference,” I say. “And second, they’re called Demon’s—”
“Ahhhh, shit. You’re a groupie, aren’t you?” he accuses, almost seeming disappointed in me. “You know, I see girls like you come in here all the time thinking if they tattoo some famous dude’s name on their ass, they’ll get his attention, but more often than not, I end up with them right back on my table asking for a cover up.”
“This is different,” I say, wanting to smack him in the face, but considering his right hand is bigger than my whole body, I fight the urge to smack him around. “I’m not a groupie.”
“They’re all in their twenties, aren’t they? Little old for you, don’t you think?”
“No. They’re nineteen,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And I’m six—eighteen. Besides, like I said, I’m not a groupie. I’m dating the lead singer, and my brother is the guitarist. Plus, not that it’s any of your business, but ‘Hypothetically Yours’ was written about me.”
The big guy laughs so hard he almost falls off his chair. “Okay, whatever you say, princess,” he says, having to wipe the tears from his eyes. “We all have to embrace the delusion every now and then, but you’re paying me cash, so I’m not about to say no. Sit tight, I’ll get it drawn up.”
A stupid grin stretches across my face, and I suddenly feel like an idiot for not bringing Ezra with me to hold my hand, but if he knew, he would have told me to wait until I was eighteen and to think it through. Or at least be here to call me a chicken when I freak out about the needle. But the plan is to surprise him, and tonight seems like the perfect night.
He messaged me earlier wanting to take me out, and I can’t help but wonder if tonight is the night . . . not just surprise him with my tattoo night, but the night. It’s been almost six months since the big execs from Louder Records came to watch them at their gig, and Ezra unknowingly crushed my soul. They were signed within the week, and their lives have spiraled in the best way. Their first single ‘Hypothetically Yours’ came out a little over two months ago, and in that time, the boys have skyrocketed to international stardom. It’s been incredible, a whirlwind of craziness, but it also means that finding time alone with Ezra has been impossible.
He’s here all the time but somehow so far away.
I miss him like crazy.
God, I sound like such a baby. The boys are literally making all of their dreams come true, and all I can do is complain. I mean, is it that much to ask for a moment alone with my boyfriend so I can try to seduce him? My subtle hints haven’t been enough. Hell, not even the glaringly obvious ones have been. Though knowing Ezra, he’s probably purposefully holding off until I’m older. He’s driving me insane with all this trying to be noble bullshit. I mean, fuck. Just nail me already!
Mr. Judgmental returns with a design, and as he takes his seat, he hands me the piece of paper. “What do you think?”
Turning the paper around, I take in the beautiful design—a finely lined rose with the cursive words ‘Hypothetically Yours’ acting as the stem. The swoops of the y’s are accentuated to create leaves, and the tops of the t’s become thorns. The delicate line continues up, and at the very top is the rose.
My heart starts to race. “It’s perfect,” I say.
“Alright,” he says, taking it back and glancing over it one more time. “Where do you want it?”
I throw my hand right over the back of my head and point to the top of my spine as I awkwardly try to turn and show him. “Right here.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, probably knowing that I’ve done absolutely no research on how badly this is going to hurt. But there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do for Ezra, and if having some big dude tattoo my spine for the next thirty minutes is what I’ve gotta do, then count me in. Besides, I have a high pain threshold. Mostly. Well, I mean, kind of. Or maybe not. I’m a little bitch whenever I stub my toe, but period cramps don’t bother me too much, and that’s gotta count for something, right?
Ahhh fuck. Maybe this isn’t such a great idea after all.
“Right, hop on the table,” he says, glancing over my shirt. “You’ll have to take that off, but keep the underwear on. I’ve got something I can drape you with if you’re more comfortable.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say, certain he’s seen a lot worse than some random girl’s bra straps. Besides, it’s not as though we’re alone here. At least six other people are hanging around, and despite his judgmental tendencies, he seems like somewhat of a teddy bear.
I scooch up on the table and whip my shirt off as he gets to his feet. “Relax,” he says, shaking his head at my enthusiasm. “I’ve got a few things I need to prepare and then we’ll get started. You need anything? Food? Water? A piss? I don’t want you getting up during your session and screwing with my flow.”
“I’m good,” I say, kinda wishing I could adopt this guy. He seems like fun. Bit rough around the edges, but I like that he’s straightforward, and I’m not left wondering about his intentions. It’s comforting.
He takes off, and I’m left twiddling my thumbs for a few minutes, scrolling through my gallery on my phone and trying to find a picture of me with the band to prove to him that I’m not some desperate groupie like the other girls that have been hanging around a lot lately.
My tattoo artist returns a few minutes later, and after quickly getting himself set up, my face is squished against the table with his big arms positioned over my back. Then, instructing me to take a breath, he gets started.
The pain is ridiculous, so I guess I’m nothing but a wretched liar. My pain tolerance is about as low as it can get, but I breathe through it, knowing he’s going as fast as he can to get it done. He tries to talk to me, but I don’t listen to a damn word until he’s finally pulling away and wiping the excess ink off my skin.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he mutters, looking over his handiwork.
“You might as well have been using a chainsaw. Do I even have any skin left?”
He rolls his eyes. “Quit being such a princess. You have ink now. You’re a badass.”
Meeting his stare, I grin wide as a wave of pride shoots through me. “Hell yeah, I am,” I agree, knowing that Ezra is going to love it.
He gets me all cleaned up, and after allowing me just a moment to check it out in the mirror, he puts some kind of fancy cling wrap over the rose before giving me a whole rundown of instructions for how to keep it clean and avoid infection.
After handing over my whole life savings, I turn and walk out of the shop but stop when my phone rings. When I pull it out of my back pocket, Ezra’s name and a photo of us fills the screen, and a smile pulls at my lips. I can’t help but whip back around and hold out my phone for the big burly guy to see. “Ha. Told ya,” I say, sounding like a whiny child. “I’m not a groupie. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, taking a quick glance at the phone. “Whatever you say.”
I groan, and realizing that not even screwing Ezra on his tattoo table is going to change this guy’s mind, I roll my eyes and make my way out of the shop. “Hey,” I say, quickly answering the call before I miss it.
“Where are you?” Ezra asks. “I’m at your place. I thought you’d be here.”
“I had to duck out for a minute, but I’ll be home in . . . maybe twenty,” I say, trying to get a good idea of how long it’ll take me to walk my ass all the way back home. “You need something?”
“Nah, not really,” he says. “But I’m hungry, so I figured we could head out a bit earlier instead of waiting for tonight. If that’s cool with you, of course. Just didn’t wanna have something now and then spoil my appetite later.”
Oooh. I’m not going to say no to spending extra hours with Ezra. He’s been at some big meeting today with the whole band and the label, so I’m sure he’s dying to unload everything that went down. “You know I’m always good to eat,” I tell him, having a healthier appetite than Axel does. “I’m close to that diner that has the really good burgers and cheese fries if you want to meet me there. Save me having to walk all the way back.”
“Consider it done,” he says, his voice softening in a way that sends shivers through my whole body. He only ever talks like that with me, and I love it more than anything else in the whole world.
Ezra ends the call, and I turn on my heel to head in the other direction. The diner isn’t anything special, and while I was hoping to go home and get my hair and makeup done and maybe pick out something a little risqué to wear for a special night together, this is just as good. Having extra hours alone trumps a good outfit any day.
I make it to the diner in record time and find a booth as I wait for his car to pull into the lot. It doesn’t take long, and the moment I see the familiar car, a stupid grin stretches across my face.
He disappears out of sight, and I wait impatiently for him to walk through the door, only when it opens a moment later, it’s Axel who strides into the diner. My brows furrow as a wave of disappointment floods me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but having him crash my date with Ezra isn’t exactly ideal.
Ezra strides in behind him, and as he scans the diner to find me, a guilty expression crosses his face. He knows I’m disappointed, but he also knows I’m not about to say anything.
They make their way toward me, weaving through the other tables until finally taking a seat, and I watch in suspicion as they squeeze into the same side, both of them facing me as though preparing for something. There’s a grim expression on both of their faces, and just like that, the excitement about my new tattoo vanishes.
“Just tell me,” I say, my heart racing a million miles an hour.
The boys look at one another as though silently arguing over who’s going to break the news, and my mind races through the worst-case scenarios. Someone’s dead. Maybe Dad got into a car accident and is slowly fading away. Maybe he’s finally pissed off the wrong person and they’ve put him into the hospital. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing because then I’d be able to live freely in my own home without walking on eggshells to avoid his drunk tantrums. He’s never put his hands on me, but I know that has a lot to do with the way he avoids Ax and Ezra. I feel it in my bones, the way he looks at me like I’m weak and insignificant, and the sooner I get out of here, the better.
“We, uhhh . . . We had our big meeting with the label,” Ezra starts as though I might have forgotten, clearly not realizing it’s been on my mind all day.
“Yeah?” I say, a little confused. Judging by the looks on their faces, I was certain they were about to hit me with bad news, but nothing bad could have come from their meeting. They shot to superstardom overnight. It could only be moving forward for them. “And?”
Ezra cringes, so Axel picks up where he left off. “And,” he starts, sounding just as hesitant as Ezra had. “They’re so impressed with how we’re doing that they want to send us on tour.”
“WHAT?” I screech, flying out of my seat, my eyes widening in surprise as the overwhelming excitement claims me. “Holy shit. That’s incredible.”
“Yeah,” Ezra says a little awkwardly, watching me far too closely. “It’s great news. We’re really pumped for it. They have some great ideas for how it’s going to go and have already started working out which cities and countries we’ll visit, but it’ll be a lot of work. They want us to start rehearsals straight away.”
“Well, yeah,” I say, dropping back into my seat. “Seems only natural, right?”
“Definitely,” Ax responds. “I don’t know what kind of places we’ll be performing in, but I can guarantee it’ll be a shitload bigger than the bars and clubs we’re used to. We’re going to have to spend every waking minute perfecting our set.”
I let out a heavy breath, needing just a moment for it to sink in. “You have no idea how happy I am for you guys,” I say as Ezra smiles and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. His touch is electrifying, and if my brother weren’t here, I know I’d already be in his arms. Hell, with this level of excitement, I probably would have kissed him, tongue and all, and surely he would have kissed me back. “But what’s the catch?”
The boys cringe and share another glance as I start to become frustrated. “Just tell me,” I mutter. “You’re both sitting there looking like someone just shoved a sour lemon up your asses, and the longer you don’t tell me, the harder I want to smack you.”
Ezra lets out a heavy breath and adjusts himself in the booth as he holds my stare with nothing but pure devastation in his dark eyes. “Because this is our first tour, they want to overlook our rehearsals, and in order to do that,” he says slowly. “We have to relocate to LA.”
I’m taken by surprise, and I sit up a little straighter. “Oh, umm . . . okay. That’s not such a huge deal, is it?” I ask. “I mean, it’ll be a lot to organize on short notice, but switching schools shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll get a transfer and enroll at one of the schools over there.”
“Rae,” Axel says, his voice softening. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it is.”
“Rehearsals are only going to be a few months, and then we’ll be on tour, jetting from one place to another. You won’t be able to do school that way. You need stability if you plan to go to college, and following us from city to city isn’t it,” he says. “Plus, you’re still a minor, Rae. I’d have to get Dad to sign off on everything and somehow become your guardian, and you know how Dad is. That’s not going to happen.”
“Wait,” I say, pulling my hand back from Ezra’s. “What are you saying?”
Ezra catches my stare as I feel tears already welling in my eyes. “You have to stay here, Rae,” he says as I shake my head. “Your whole life is here. School, friends, home. I can’t take you away from that just to follow us around. I won’t do it. You have a whole life ahead of you.”
“No,” I breathe, pulling right back, my chest heaving with gasping breaths as the ugly realization of what a life here with Dad would mean for me when the boys are no longer here to deflect his anger. “No. You can’t leave me here. I’m coming with you.”
“And what about college, Rae?” Axel asks. “You’ll never even see the admissions office if you don’t graduate high school, and on the road with us, that’s not an option.”
I shoot to my feet, the tears already rolling down my cheeks as I look between the two people who mean the most to me in this cruel world, the two who are talking crazy and saying they’re about to abandon me here. “You can’t do this. Please. Please don’t leave me behind,” I cry, waiting for one of them to realize how sick this joke is and tell me they’re lying. “I swear, I’ll figure it out. I’ll find a way to graduate. I’m sure there’s online education or, or . . . I don’t know. People get their GEDs outside of school all the time. I can do that.”
Axel hangs his head in his hands as Ezra gets up from the table and makes his way around to me. He grips my arms, pulling me in close before winding them around me. “I’m sorry, Rae. You have no fucking idea how sorry I am, but we’re trying to think of what’s best for your future,” he tells me. “Believe me, I fucking hate this. The idea of being apart from you is killing me, but the life we’re about to walk into, you didn’t sign up for that.”
I look up at him, the tears rolling faster than ever. “Don’t,” I say, my voice breaking over the lump in my throat. “Don’t break us like this.”
Devastation flashes in his dark eyes, but I see no hint of hesitation. He’s made up his mind. He’s leaving me here in this bullshit town, leaving me at the mercy of a hateful drunk. For just a moment, I consider telling them how much Dad scares me when they aren’t around, but if they knew . . . If they heard the way he talks to me, they’d never get on that plane. They’d never accept this tour, and they’d never get the things they’ve worked all these years to achieve.
“It won’t be that long,” he promises me. “A year, maybe. Eighteen months. Then I’ll be home.”
I exhale, my every emotion overwhelming me in that one breath, and I pull out of his arms, shrugging him off when he reaches for me again, not knowing a single word to say.
And with that, I turn and run out of the diner as the agonizing sobs tear from the back of my throat.