Chapter 26
Declan
“I asked Elsie out on a date.”
The sound of Sean’s tattoo gun hitting the ground ricochets through the shop, the angry buzzing sounding like a swarm of bees as it skitters across the floor.
“Dude, pick your foot up,” I tell him, nodding toward his leg that’s weighing on the foot pedal like he’s drag racing. The second he lifts it, the buzzing stops as his machine turns off. It’s Saturday night and the shop is closed for the day, so there’s no loud, thumping music to mask the noise.
“Sorry, I’m going to need you to repeat that,” Sean says, leaning closer and cupping a hand around his ear like he can’t hear me.
“Fuck off.” I shove him away from me and he laughs, bending to grab his machine off the floor. “If you’re going to be a jackass about it, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“I’m sorry,” he laughs, not sounding the least bit contrite. “Please, continue.”
I want to keep my mouth shut just to spite him, but honestly, I’m dying to talk about it.
I didn’t have a session with Deja today, and I can’t wait for therapy in a week.
Not that a friend is a substitute for a therapist, but sometimes I just need someone to talk my shit over with.
She’s constantly reminding me it’s okay to open up to my friends and let them in.
We both know that by friends she really means Sean, because I don’t exactly have a big roster to choose from.
I don’t usually follow that particular advice of hers, but I think it might be time to start. It gets exhausting, keeping everyone at arms’ length. And I know it isn’t fair to the people who genuinely care about me and want me to let them in.
“I want to date Elsie, so I asked her out.” To Sean’s credit, his eyes only bug out of his head a little bit this time. “I like her. A lot.”
“I knew that part. I have eyes. But does she…” Sean’s voice trails off and he scratches his chin. His machine has been set down on the table next to him, my tattoo forgotten for the time being. “Do we think she, uh, likes you back?”
It pains me that I can’t immediately answer the question.
Does Elsie like me? I know I get under her skin.
I’m able to rile her up far easier than I should be able to, which has to mean something.
I know she’s attracted to me, and the chemistry between us is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Anytime we’re in each other’s proximity, we’re two sparks just waiting to meet and ignite.
And fuck, did she ignite in that greenhouse. I definitely know she liked the orgasm I gave her. But does she like me? She said yes to going on a date with me, which has to count for something.
Still, I skirt the question.
“I’m not giving you details, so don’t fucking bug me about it, but we’ve had a few… encounters.”
“Encounters,” Sean echoes, deadpan. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Jesus, this was a bad idea,” I mutter.
“I’m kidding,” he says, picking his machine back up and leaning over my arm.
The small “XLVI” he’s inking onto my inner bicep is nearly finished.
When Sean suggested we get tattoos to commemorate the success we’ve had so far with Immortal Ink, I figured, what’s one more?
It was his idea to get the building number in roman numerals.
He opted for bigger, blockier letters on the side of his forearm. The new ink looks shiny under the layers of ointment and plastic protective wrap I’d put on him about an hour ago.
“If you like her, man, I say go for it,” Sean continues, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the machine. “Worst that can happen is – wait, did she say yes?”
“She did.” I still can’t wrap my head around that one. I thought for sure she’d turn me down, or at least hesitate. Instead, I got an enthusiastic of course.
Fucking incredible.
“Okay, you’re off to a good start. Maybe it’ll go well, maybe it won’t. Just take it one day at a time.”
Goddamn, why does the thought of Elsie and I not hitting it off beyond our physical attraction feel like a dagger to the gut?
It doesn’t make sense, the way my body – hell, maybe even my goddamn heart – feels like it has a claim over her already.
I see her and the only coherent thought running through my head is, mine.
She feels like mine, and I don’t know how to grapple with the fact that she isn’t really. Not yet.
Every day is torture, watching her through the window between our shops and wondering what’s going through that gorgeous head of hers.
Those few days when she was avoiding me were torture, the way she would run and hide every time I tried to pop over and talk to her. Fuck, I’m glad we got past that.
“I’m not sure I know how to do the whole dating thing,” I admit.
It’s been weighing on me, the idea that I won’t measure up to whatever expectations Elsie might have.
I’m sure Deja would tell me it’s some deep-rooted trauma from my childhood coming to surface.
She’d probably relate it to the way I always thought if I just tried harder in school, or did more chores around the apartment, my mom would actually stick around.
She thinks I have a fear of abandonment, and it’s why I never settle anywhere for more than a few years. “You can’t be left behind if you take off running first,” she’s said before.
She might be onto something there. But I’ve also never done the whole boyfriend thing. Never met anyone else that I feel this strange pull toward, this inexplicable need to make them mine and do my damnedest not to let them go.
I can’t help this nagging fear that I could be putting myself out there only to fuck it all up, the way I have with so many other things in my life.
“Hell, I didn’t know what I was doing either, before meeting Frankie,” Sean points out.
“And trust me, she let me know when I was doing a shit job.” He chuckles at the memory, but the thought of screwing things up with Elsie makes my palms start sweating.
“Mistakes are inevitable. It’s how you learn from them that matters.
You fuck up, you learn from it, you do better next time. ”
I nod, committing his advice to memory. Sometimes you really just need someone to tell you it’s okay to not know what the fuck you’re doing.
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, watching as he expertly shades in the letters on my arm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Not that I want to scare you off from asking me for advice,” Sean says, a bit too nonchalantly, “but I think I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve asked for advice over the years and it wasn’t tattoo related.”
He sets his machine down and grabs a paper towel and soap to wipe down the fresh ink. I watch as the diluted green liquid drips onto my skin and he wipes it away, leaving a shiny new tattoo in its wake.
“Was there a question somewhere in there?”
“Just wondering what’s up,” he says, still not looking at me. Not at my face, anyway; his attention is on my arm, where he’s slathering on a layer of ointment to go under the protective wrap. “You seem different here, in Port Myles. Not bad,” he hastens to add. “Just… different.”
I hesitate. I know this could be a good opportunity to finally let Sean in on some of my shit. I could just bite the bullet and do it.
I grew up with an addict for a mom and my grandparents had to do most of the raising me while she was too busy getting high, forgetting I existed and leaving me behind when her latest boyfriend convinced her to skip town with him.
I’m in this tiny ass town because it’s close to where my mom lives, but far enough away that I can still breathe without being suffocated by all of the shitty memories I have of her and growing up in Portland.
I’m finally trying to build a relationship with my mom and also quit running from my problems, which is why I let you talk me into coming here and working with you, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I’ve been in therapy for six years and I’m only now starting to feel like I’m turning into the kind of person I want to be.
I’m asking you for help because my therapist convinced me I need to let people in, and you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to.
There’s a lot I could say right now, but I don’t think I’m ready yet. Not positive I ever will be.
“I’ve been trying to work through some shit lately,” I say instead.
I’m not ready to spill my guts to him yet, but I can give him something.
“I’m trying to fix things with my mom. Trying the whole staying in one place long-term thing.
I don’t want to fuck things up with Elsie for a lot of reasons, but I know that if this thing crashes and burns, I’m going to want to take off like I always do. ”
Shit, that was a bit more honest than I’d meant to be. I’m not sure I even realized I had that fear until the words left my mouth.
“Asking your dumb ass for advice is the best option I’ve got,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
Sean studies me seriously for a moment, then nods. “Okay then,” he says.
And we leave it at that.