Chapter 7 #3
“Your sarcasm is highly unreasonable considering I’m being a gentleman,” The boat honks its horn, slowly beginning to move. “Why?” He asks out of nowhere, I furrow my brows, and his hand slowly falls from my face, but slides over my shoulders, slowly pulling me closer to him.
“Why what?” His warmth is indescribable, and I’m infuriated by how good it feels.
“Why is everything on the table? Why are there no rules? Why did you say yes?”
“Because Sienna convinced me.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who does things they don’t want to do.”
“Because I’m not. I do want to do this. I figured it would be fun.
And if you were willing then I’d have sex with someone I find attractive.
.. And it would be a good way to end the rest of the semester, because we’re friends, and we can have fun together,” I explain to him exactly what I’ve explained to myself a million times to ensure I wouldn’t back out.
“So you think I’m attractive?”
I roll my eyes and shove his chest.
“Do you have selective hearing?” I ask.
“Yes, I listen to what I want to hear that way I’m never disappointed,” He tells me, and I laugh.
“You know there are tattoos on the list too?” I raise my eyebrows, feeling like this is a challenge. There has got to be at least one thing he’s not going to complete.
“You know I’m the one who has the list, right? Meaning I know what’s on it... And either way, I have tattoos, I don’t care if I get another one. You’re the one without any,” He points out, and I get defensive instantly.
“You don’t know if I have tattoos.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.
“Okay, do you have tattoos?” He entertains my statement and I sigh.
“No, but it doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “I’ve always wanted tattoos. I’ve just never really thought of anything I’d want on my body, you know?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but I do understand. So you’ve never had anything important enough to get tattooed, yet you’ll get one because of some list that you claim is stupid?”
Call me out, why don’t you… Geez.
“Tattoos are memories. They don’t have to be meaningful artwork as long as they have meaningful experiences behind them. I’ll always remember this, even if I never talk to you again after it's over,” I tell him, knowing we’ll probably continue as mutual friends after all of this is said and done.
At least a small part of my hopes for that.
“I’ve always wanted to make this into a full sleeve... And I’ve wanted hand tattoos for the longest time,” He tells me, and naturally, my eyes travel to his hands at the mention of them.
Which wasn’t the smartest move considering my stomach dropped at the sight. There’s something wrong with me… Bellamy is watching me, noticing how I notice him, and my eyes snap away from him.
“Good idea,” I add casually, swallowing the ball in my throat.
“Yeah,” The tone in his voice tells me he knows where my head is at, and there’s nothing I’m going to do about it. “You know I have to get to know you and all that right?” He asks.
“Real dating means you get to know someone. We’re not dating, meaning we don’t have to get to know each other.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to work with me. I’m not going to ask your deepest darkest secrets, I just want to know more about you. You’re favorite things... Small stuff. We’ve gotten this far, don’t let me down now Ryn.”
I feel his fingers on my skin, tracing small circles on my shoulder. It’s oddly comforting, chills settling on my skin. I’m not sure if it’s from the simple wind from the moving ferry boat or if it’s from his touch, but I choose to ignore all of it.
“Okay, fine. If we’re playing twenty questions on our first date like kids, you better not ask dumb questions. I mean it,” I tell him, and he smirks.
“Favorite romance movie? Romcom, or romance, or whatever… It doesn’t matter,” He tells me.
“I like comical ones the most... Like Easy A. That one is amazing. But out of the sentimental ones, I really love Stuck In Love and I love La La Land,” I tell him.
“Oh come on... La La Land is not... No. I’m sorry, that movie is horrible,” He sits up, the conversation serious now.
“Oh yeah? Why?” I shift toward him.
“Because the ending is god awful! That is a shitty way to end such a picturesque movie,” He speaks his truth, and it makes me smirk, showing exactly how wrong he was about me.
“This is proving my point. Only hopeless romantics hope for a happy ending… It’s just like real life, nothing ends the way you want it! That’s just the way it goes. That’s why I love the movie. It’s real.”
His arm falls, slinking around my lower back only to slide me closer to him. I move my hands up, still keeping some distance as I place my manicured hand on his chest.
“I just love how pessimistic you are…” He smiles.
“And I hate how optimistic you are,” I fight back, my tone completely playful.
“You’re a shit liar... Either way, my favorite romance is The Notebook. It’s top tier... And even though the ending wasn’t perfect, it was better than that stupid La La Land movie. And the Proposal. It’s the best one. It’s the best cast. And it has a wonderful trope too.”
I scrunch my nose up. “You using the word trope feels wrong,” I tell him.
“Don’t be mad because I’m just as well rounded in romance as you are.”
I get up, moving toward the railing of the ferry boat, but not too close. The sun is setting, the sky a million shades, all blending together perfectly. My eyes scan over everything, my ears listen in, the waves slapping the boat, and the simple sound of the engine too.
“It’s your turn.”
I feel him behind me, and then next to me. He walks to the railing, actually standing on the edge, holding on, looking at the water below him.
“Which of your tattoos is your favorite?” I ask, my eyes catching the ink that peeks from the black shirt.
“Well, this is a few pieces mixed into one big piece so I guess I really only have one in my head,” He tells me, and I watch as he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing his bicep to me, my mouth watering on the spot.
I suck in a breath at the sight of the tattoo fully. It looks like a painting, angels, sculptures. It’s incredibly well done, and beautiful. The black and white shading almost makes it look real.
“What’s the significance? With your parents I mean...” I ask.
I instinctively reach my hand out, stepping close to him.
I take his arm in my hand, touching his warm skin, turning his arm so I can see the half sleeve that must continue onto his chest. I can’t see all of it because the piece is so big.
He’s quiet, so I look up at him. He’s watching me as I touch him, his eyes stuck like glue on my face.
He’s very attentive in what he does, and how he watches me, and I’m not used to it yet at all.
I feel like running away when I catch his eyes on me like they are now.
“Oh... Um, my parents passed away when I was in high school. They traveled a lot, they were big in business, but they had a company together so every deal was done together, every trip... I spent a lot of time with my grandparents growing up, but my parents always made it home for my games... They loved Italy... They loved art. Michelangelo, and all those older painters, and artists. That’s why I chose this style, it’s significant to them.
Some of their favorite things all meshed into one,” He tells me, his words directed to me as I carefully inspect the intricate ink on his strong arm.
He’s incredibly open. More open than I could be and I appreciate that, but I’m unsure of how I should go about talking to him about it... If I should even acknowledge it at all...
“Wow...” I breathe out. Those are the only words I can form at the sight of the artwork etched on his skin.
Not only do I not know how to reply to him after what he just said, but I also can’t stop looking.
It’s the perfect piece to be able to dedicate to someone else.
It truly is one of the most beautiful pieces of work I’ve ever seen on someone’s body.
It helps that his body is so nice and sculpted. .. A piece of art itself.
I let my hands fall, and look up at him, noticing how close he is to me, and how close we are to the railing I have tried so hard to keep a distance from.
“It’s your turn,” I almost whisper the words, and he nods, his eyes still staring me down.
I wonder if he feels the tension between us or if I’m completely making it up in my head. I wonder if he knows that I want to touch him again.
“You hate romance... Is it because of Dylan?” He asks me, and I instantly glare at him, my eyes narrowing.
The tension leaves my body, and annoyance fills it.
“That has nothing to do with it. And it’s none of your business either. What about you? Why did you and Leah break up?” I cross my arms over my chest, and he tilts his head.
“I didn’t mean to piss you off Ryn... Either way, I just want to make sure someone else didn’t ruin something for you that you deserve to enjoy,” He’s even closer to me now.
I look up at him as he faces me head on, his eyes looking down on me, his body right in front of me.
My back is turned away from the water, and the railing.
He leans forward, his hands grasping the railing, and simultaneously pushing my back against it too.
He’s pressing me to the cold metal, holding me in place. Our chests touch, and my heart stops.
“Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to stare?” I try my hardest to keep my lips pressed together, not letting an inkling of a smile peak out.
“I don’t know, I like the view,” He raises his eyebrows, a lopsided smirk forming on his lips.
“That was incredibly cheesy,” I loved it though.
He’s very good at this cheesy romantic thing.
“Isn’t that the whole point?” I don’t answer, still waiting on his. “Why do you think Leah and I broke up?” He asks me, pushing off of the railing, releasing me from his grasp.