19. Ivy Thompson
IVY THOMPSON
I knew coming home would involve seeing the people who hated me the most. But I refuse to let them push me out. I ran the first chance I got, but now I’m not letting them take this from me, too.
As I stroll down the beach barefoot, allowing the sand to sink between my toes, I look out to the sea and watch as the clear water laps at the shore before retreating. I could watch the ocean for hours and never get bored.
The tranquility of all the sounds, the sights, the sensations, the smells.
Every part of being at the coast is like therapy.
I inhale the salty air and allow it to fill my lungs, the grains of sand pushing into the soles of my feet. The breeze flickers over the edges of my hair.
This is home.
A smile curves at my mouth as I walk back to the path, and dust off my sandy feet before attempting to slip on my sandals. I wobble, trying to hold myself up as a hand reaches for my wrist and the other for my waist.
I glance up to find JJ shirtless, sweat glistening off his chest as if he’s done a ten-mile run. I blink in surprise as I bring my foot back down to the ground before I fall.
“What is with you and unstable shoes?” he asks with a playful shake of the head. “These ones are flat.”
My eyes narrow at his face— anywhere above the collarbone, really.
He’s beaming down at me, a cheeky smirk that makes my heart miss a beat.
“If I don’t get the sand out, they rub,” I respond pathetically.
JJ’s brows raise as he pulls his hands away from me. “Sure, sure. And it has nothing to do with your coordination?”
I raise a hand to shove at his shoulder, which was a big mistake considering all I can feel are the rock-hard muscles beneath his sweaty skin. I retreat my hand faster than lightning, but JJ laughs anyway.
“How far did you run?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
JJ swipes a hand over his buzz cut and pins me with his blue eyes. “Ten kilometers.”
“I can’t even run to the end of the street.” I laugh to myself.
His lip twitches in amusement. “Want me to teach you? It’s all about practice.”
“No thanks, I’d rather not die this summer.”
“I won’t let you die, Ivy.” He takes a tiny step towards me, and I swallow hard. “What have you been up to?”
I tilt my head an inch to look him in the eye. “Just went for a walk. I needed it after yesterday,” I say before cringing at the state JJ found me in. “Thanks for what you did. It really helped.”
“You don’t need to keep thanking me. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
My lips purse. “Yeah, I’m better now.”
“Good. You wanna go grab a drink? I’m parched.”
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“No one said anything about alcohol.”
I stare at him for a moment before glancing over my shoulder. It’s harmless, right? And I don’t want to go home just yet.
“Uh, okay. Sure.”
We walk along the beachfront where the parade of shops is, before we head into a café to grab a strawberry cooler each. Then we perch on the edge of the wall and face the sea once more.
Silence washes over us, but it’s far from uncomfortable.
JJ’s bare arm occasionally grazes mine as he raises his drink to take a sip, and I’m well aware of the warmth it gives me. I glance down and stare at his tattoos on display. I’ve not really had a chance to see them up close and in the light, but they litter his arms in a patchwork style.
“What?” He chuckles when he catches me looking.
I shake my head and meet his eyes. “Oh, I just—” I pause to find a look of amusement on his face. “I’m being nosy.”
“You can be nosy.” He nudges me.
“Do your tattoos have meanings?”
JJ pauses for a moment, lowering his cup. “Not all of them. Some do. Some I got just because I liked them. I don’t think every tattoo has to have meaning.”
I spy the sparrow on his forearm with fine lines and light shading, then I glance up to find a cloud with a lightning bolt through it, and higher up is a leopard that sits on the outside of his bicep.
“What about these ones?” I gesture to his arm.
He places his cup down and twists his arm to have a look, as if he’s forgotten which tattoos are there.
“The sparrow was my first tattoo,” he starts.
“I read that sparrows represent resilience and freedom. I got it when I was freshly eighteen to keep reminding myself to do what I love, regardless of the life my father wants for me.”
My forehead creases at his words. “Does he really dictate your life that much?”
JJ glances out to the sea. “We’re working on it.”
“And the cloud?”
“My tattoo artist had a flash sheet, and when I saw it, I liked it. Just a reminder everyone has bad days, but it doesn’t mean it’s a bad life, you know? Rain and storms usually clear up, just like bad days.”
I nod, relating to his words.
“What about the leopard?”
His hand cups his bicep, stretching the ink over his muscles. “This one’s my favourite.” He beams.
“Why?” I smile as I study the tiny markings of the leopard, intricate and thoroughly detailed.
JJ shrugs. “Because leopards are my favourite animal. Simple.”
“Which ones did you get because you just liked them?”
He flashes me his other arm, and on the inside of his forearm is a dark snake. “This has no meaning. I just liked the look of it and the placement when he put down the stencil.”
When he straightens his arm, I get a peek of an abstract pair of faces on his tricep and some sort of card on the inside of his forearm.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.
“It’s a tarot card for strength. It’s my newest one. I got it when my mum got sick.”
I instinctively reach forward to take his elbow to get a better look. Inside is a woman hugging a lion with the moon and stars in the background. I’m amazed by the level of detail.
“I like this one,” I confess as my thumb grazes the ink. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He smiles.
“Are you spiritual?” I ask, looking up at him.
JJ pulls a face. “Not really, but a friend at university did me a card reading and it was the first card I pulled. I guess it kind of gave me hope. I was afraid I’d pick the death card, but it didn’t come up.
” He picks up his drink when I drop his elbow.
“I know they’re just a bunch of cards, but I felt something when she told me about the strength card, and it meant a lot to me. ”
I blink slowly as I take him in. My mouth becomes increasingly dry as he stares right back. He’s a sentimental kind of guy, that’s obvious in the way he expresses himself.
“What?”
My head shakes once. “Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he urges.
“I just like your tattoos.”
He laughs softly. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
“I suppose people think tattoos are surface level, but they’re not.”
“No,” he says in agreement. “They mean a lot to me.”
“What do your parents think about your tattoos?”
JJ scoffs. “My dad hates them, but my mum likes them.”
“I think both my parents would cheer me on if I got a tattoo.”
His face lights up. “Yeah?”
“They’re very into not letting anyone hold you back from being your true self.”
“Would you get a tattoo?”
“I don’t know if I could deal with the pain,” I admit.
The thought of tiny little needles makes my head spin.
“They don’t hurt too much,” he brushes off. “You get used to it after a while.”
My lips press together. “I suppose I don’t know what I’d get.”
“I wish I had that problem,” he sighs with a smile. “I have too many ideas.”
“Sometimes I want to push myself out of my comfort zone,” I find myself admitting as I glance along the beach, the wind floating through my hair. “Do something unlike me.”
“Why?”
To feel something again.
I raise my shoulders. “To try something different.”
“Well.” JJ shuffles impossibly closer until our legs are brushing. “If you want to go get a tattoo, I’ll be there to hold your hand.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “Moral support?”
JJ flashes a grin. “Moral support, princess.”
A flutter in my heart sparks at the silly nickname. “I’ll let you know when I’m brave enough.”
“You are brave, Ivy,” he says sincerely. “I just don’t think you see it.”
I blink at him in surprise.
And I don’t think either of us is talking about tattoos anymore.