Chapter Thirty-One • What it Looks Like • Lillith #3
“If the shoe fits, I suppose I ought to wear it.”
“Vodka Cranberry” by Conan Gray comes on and I groan. “Oh my god, I love this song.”
He chuckles. “I know you do. There was one week that every time you took a shower you sang some random part of it. It took me three showers to figure out what the fuck the song was. It’s not bad, honestly.”
I sing along with it and Damien rolls down the windows to the car, letting the coastal air fly through the car as he turns it up.
There’s a sort of euphoria that courses through me as I put my hand out the window and catch the current of the wind as the sun drifts toward the ocean.
By the end of the song, we’re pulling onto the esplanade and Damien is singing with me.
His voice is... Wow. Maybe it’s not the polished instrument Oren uses. But there’s this raw musicality to it that just makes it lovely to listen to. Damien has a nice voice. And it fills the lower ends my own voice can’t reach.
Before long, we’re pulling into the business center of town and, much to my surprise, Damien parks the car outside a tattoo shop I haven’t been to yet.
It’s called The Pin Cushion and the sign is cute and feminine with big, swirling letters and a painting of a rose-shaped pin cushion with a bunch of pins and needles nestled in its bloom.
“A tattoo shop?” I ask.
“There’s a really cool girl here that I found a couple weeks ago, I think you’ll dig her. I was thinking we could get pierced together. Or get a cute little matching tattoo.”
I cringe and he blinks. “What is it?” he asks.
“I’m actually a huge baby about piercings,” I say.
“You have like... seven of them in each ear.”
“I have five. And two of them are lobe piercings, so they don’t really count. And I still cried about them all.”
“No way. I refuse to believe this.”
“Call Wren and ask her! The only reason I have as many as I do is because she makes me get them with her as a birthday gift to her so she doesn’t have to go alone.”
“Wren has piercings?” He asks.
“Not anywhere visible. That’s why she made me do it instead of Bastion,” I say. “As much as I want more piercings, I promise you don’t want to see me be a little wimp about it.”
“I mean, I don’t care about you being scared of piercings. If you want more and just need an emotional support boyfriend to help you through it, I can be that guy.”
“Damien,” I say.
“I mean it! Where do you want to get pierced? I’ve coached tons of people through shitty piercings; I can do it for you too.”
“Is this like a sneaky sadism thing?” I ask. “Are you gonna get hard watching me get pierced by this poor woman?”
“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “I mean. I do find you obscenely attractive when you cry. Which is a mindfuck, by the way. But that’s not why I’m encouraging you to get a piercing with me.
If you really want more piercings, I want you to be able to get them.
And if you have to crush my hand into gravel to get one, then fuck me right up. ”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know...” I say.
“Tell me what piercing you want,” he says. “Like, if you could get any of them, which one would you get?”
I feel my face warm with a flush, because I already know he’s going to tease me for my answer. “Well... I’ve always wanted a cute little double venom piercing,” I say.
His brows lift. “Oh?” he says. “Well, as sexy as that would be, I’m not sure I could handle how long it takes for that to heal. That’s a long, long time not to kiss you.”
“I can heal it right after,” I say.
His brow creases as he squints at me. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah, the healing is the easy part,” I say.
“Can’t you just heal it as you get pierced?”
“Well—yes, but I still have to go through the initial discomfort. Also, I can’t really do that until after we leave. Piercers generally have some concerns when their newest victim isn’t achy right after.”
“Damn. I wish I’d met you before I got my tongue split,” Damien says.
“I mean, who knows if we would have gotten together without it,” I tease him.
His mouth drops open with feigned offense. “Are you saying you’re only with me because of the mind blowing head I give you?”
“I mean, why else would I be with you?”
“Honestly, valid. Worth the two weeks of soup and smoothies to date you, baby.”
I place a hand on my chest and flutter my falsies. “That... is the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me,” I say, feigning being choked up.
We both laugh, the pause and levity welcome as I get to just stare at him being happy and handsome for a few moments. He leans his head sideways on the headrest as his eyes go soft. “Damn, I love you,” he says, like the revelation keeps taking him by surprise.
And I can relate. I really can. Because I keep being surprised by how much more I keep falling for him.
It keeps happening in little moments. In the way he feeds me chocolate while he kisses little hurts away from a session of love making.
In the way he listens to me while I explain some obscure metaphysical concept to him.
In the way he moans compliments about my cooking.
Little moments that, by themselves, don’t mean much.
But in the wider context of us, they mean everything.
“Alright,” I finally say. “You win. Let’s go get pierced.”
“Fuck. Yes,” he says with a grin.