46
I’m sitting in my room trying to study, but I can’t trick my mind into focusing.
I look down at my phone, wishing I could call Gaia.
It’s Saturday afternoon, and she’d be at the restaurant by now.
Sam is still at work, too. He’s been busy lately.
It’s almost as if the entire population of young females in the city discovered there was a ridiculously hot trainer at the gym, and all signed up for personal training sessions at once.
Abi is MIA again. I thought that after our fight and me forcing her to come out for ladies’ night, she would realise she misses me too, and things would start to go back to semi-normal, but it’s been over a month since Brooks dragged her to that stupid bed and breakfast, and they’ve gone back to being inseparable, hiding away in his boringly plain apartment.
I click to open my photo gallery to look at the last photo I have with Abi in it, but as I scroll through the images, all I see is Gaia.
Her beautiful, thick, curly hair. Her perfectly plump lips, those sparkling brown eyes and that wide, toothy grin.
Feeling an overwhelming burst of inspiration, I pull my sketch pad from my side table.
I’ve been working on possible tattoo designs for Sam.
They’re not ready for me to show him yet, but they’re close.
I flick open to a blank page and begin moving my pencil in windy curves.
A memory flashes into my mind of Gaia dancing at the club.
She seductively bit down on her lip as she brought both hands to her hair and brushed them through her curls before running them down her body.
She effortlessly stood out in the large crowd that night, easily being the sexiest person there, and she was oblivious to what she was doing.
She looked up at me, noticing that I’d stopped dancing, unable to do anything but focus on her.
She flashed me her bright smile, her light spreading to her sultry eyes.
The curve of her lips as she pursed them together, blowing me a kiss.
What I wouldn’t give to kiss those sweet lips right now.
I look down at my now finished drawing to see a detailed picture of Gaia.
Every perfect curve and line, even her imperfections, are perfect.
I can almost reach out and touch her. With the inspiration still flowing through my fingers, the pencil itches to draw her again, and I flick to the next page.
She’s lying on her stomach in my bed. Her curls pulled across to one side, revealing her bare shoulders.
The white sheet was teasingly positioned above her waist, covering her voluptuously round ass.
She was waiting for me to give her a massage.
“Hurry up,” she had instructed playfully, but all I could do was stare at her, taking in her natural beauty.
She has a freckle, just one, on her left shoulder blade.
I want to run my hand down her smooth brown skin, letting it linger right where her lower back dips.
I pause, hovering the pencil above the page.
There she is. Almost as beautiful as if she were here in person.
The front door loudly creaks, signalling that someone is here.
I jump up from the bed, sketchpad still in hand.
“Only me,” Sam calls. I move into the kitchen to greet him. “Key works,” he says, waving a key in his hand. He’s still wearing his gym gear, baggy basketball shorts and a large tank with sweat marks along the hem of the neck.
“And I’m so glad I gave it to you for emergencies. Emergencies, like if I ever lock myself out or if I’d left the stove on.”
“Who are you kidding? You don’t use that stove.” His laugh bellows loudly.
“Are you going to shower? I’d prefer you didn’t stink up the couch with your sweat.”
“I’m about to go do that. I wanted to come by and check in with you to see if you wanted to do something.” He walks over to the pantry, pulls out an apple and takes a bite.
“Of course. I just have to finish up something I was working on, but I’ll be done by the time you come back,” I reply, holding onto my sketchpad tightly.
“What is that?” Sam asks, lunging forward to grab the sketchpad before I have a chance to pull away.
“Hey, that’s not ready.” I leap towards him, trying to take the book back, but he’s too quick. He holds out his arm and places his hand on my shoulder, preventing me from getting closer.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” he says, looking at the picture I was working on. I blush thinking of Gaia on the bed. He flicks through the other pages and lands on the sketches I’ve been working on for his tattoo.
“What’s this?” he asks, turning the page to show me what he’s looking at.
The picture includes the vines that he already has, but the gaps are filled with different flowers and plants from around the courtyard.
The image winds downwards, slowly morphing into the underground heart roots of a sycamore tree.
“That’s, umm, that’s not ready yet.” I stammer. A nervous sweat develops on my lower back. I didn’t want to show him until it was ready. What if he hates it?
“This is amazing, Luna. It’s for me, right?
” he asks, flipping the notepad back over to take a better look.
I nod, feeling a wash of relief come over me.
“That’s what we’re doing today.” He looks up at me, and an adventurous smile spreads across his face.
“You’re coming with me to get this. Let me shower, and I’ll be back in ten.
” He leans forward again, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.
Sam has brought me to a little tattoo studio hidden deep in the centre of the city, with beautiful graffiti decorating its walls inside and out.
We’re greeted by a large mural that showcases a mesmerising rainbow with a devilish leprechaun at the end, standing over a pot of shimmering gold.
His demonic grin sends a chill down my spine.
That’s what I love about art. It starts as a blank page, or in this case, a blank wall, then someone comes along and creates something that inflicts a physical reaction from all who see it.
Sam pushes the door, holding it open for me to go in ahead of him.
“Jim, we’re here,” he calls out. A large, muscular man, who I’m assuming is the owner, appears.
He’s not a tall man, but his presence could be interpreted as intimidating if it weren’t for the friendly smile that warms his face.
He lifts his hand, pushing up the sleeves of his blue checked flannel shirt, revealing a mixture of tattoos covering his forearms and hands.
He reaches out, shaking my hand. His green eyes sparkle as he looks over my sketch of Sam’s tattoo.
His thick fingers rub the silver stubble on his chin.
“I like what you’ve done here,” Jim says, pointing to the heart-shaped roots.
“Thank you.” Anxiety bubbles in my stomach like burning lava. “If you think anything needs to be changed, feel free.”
“No! Don’t change a thing,” Sam yells out from behind us. He takes a seat on a large leather chair and pulls his top up over his head, revealing his muscular, tattooed arm. It astounds me how prepared he is to have my artwork permanently inked onto his body.
“Thought never crossed my mind,” Jim shouts back, over his shoulder towards Sam. Then he does something that makes my heart lurch: he flips through the sketchbook. I pale as he looked at me.
“Luna,” he lowers his voice. My heart thuds. “This is spectacular. Would you be interested in working on a few stock designs for the studio? I would be able to pay you a little for your work.”
The offer takes me by complete surprise.
Are my sketches really that good that strangers around the city would want them inked into their skin forever?
Jim certainly seems to think so. I feel myself smiling as I think about it.
To have my art recognised would be a dream come true...
but what about Dad? He’d never be okay with me doing something that doesn’t push us toward his goals for me.
But I want to. As Jim’s offer hangs in the air between us, the little voice in my head reminds me, Dad can’t get upset if he never finds out.
“Wow, really? I would love that,” I gush, and he nods with a smile, before turning to prepare the instruments. I sit on the chair next to Sam, barely able to contain my excitement.
“See, I told you,” he brags, happily taking credit for my sudden job opportunity.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have shown anyone if you hadn’t invaded my privacy.” I place my hand on top of his arm, the one that’s not getting tattooed.
“Any time. Now it’s your job to hold my hand,” he says, encasing his large hand around mine.