by Lana Dash
“You can do this,” I tell myself. “You’re already in the water. It’s time to see if you’re going to sink or swim.”
I swing open the door.
Beck leans his arm against the door jamb but doesn't say anything at first. His eyes narrow in on my face like he's seeing me for the first time, and he's taking it all in. I’m not sure what to say. In my mind, the letter I gave him put the ball in his court. I want to see what he decides to do with it.
He holds up the purple envelope. "Years of only monosyllabic responses from you in passing, and then suddenly you send me this letter."
I shrug and decide that honesty is the best course of options for me here. “I figure that since I did a face plant in front of you, all sense of shame was long gone, so I might as well tell you what I feel."
I half expect him to turn and walk away, but instead, he chuckles to himself. "You're an odd one, aren't you?"
“I prefer eccentric.”
“Okay then, 4B. What’s the plan?”
I stare at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
"In the letter, you mention something about wanting to live your life with uninhibited freedom. What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think beyond stuffing the letter under your door.”
He shakes his head. "I don't accept that. If you thought that nothing was going to happen, you wouldn't have done it. Now I'll ask you again. What is it that you want to do? Something that you've been holding back on. Don't think, just say the first thing that comes to mind."
He’s so direct. It’s both intimidating and exciting at the same time. I notice his arm leaning against the door jamb and the tattoos covering it. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I never thought I was the type of person that could pull one-off.
“A tattoo.”
His eyes widen, and his head jerks back in surprise. I like that he wasn't expecting that answer.
"Every time I think you're going to zig, you zag. I can't figure you out."
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know yet.” He smiles. “But I’m interested in finding out.”
BECK
Who is this woman? I’ve passed her in the hallway so many times, thinking I’ve got her all figured out, but I couldn’t be more wrong.
“Come on,” I step back from her door and gesture for her to follow me. “Grab a jacket.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get you a tattoo.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, but I can still see a twinkle of excitement there too. She isn’t going to put up a fight about this.
“What, right now?”
“Are you doing something that can’t wait?” She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up a hand to stop her. "Doesn't matter, you wanted some uninhibited freedom in your life, and I'm here to give it to you."
I start to back up a few steps towards the stairs. I pull my phone out of my pocket and type out a quick message to my buddy. He does all of my ink. I tell him that I'm coming in with a friend, and I need him to squeeze us in.
He’s one of the best artists in the city and is in high demand for his talents. He responds right back.
TREVOR: I can’t today. My schedule is pretty full up.
ME: Come on.
TREVOR: Nope.
ME: Do I need to remind you who introduced you to your fiancée?
TREVOR: You don’t need to remind me, because you say it every time you ask me for a favor.
ME: Then you should have known it was going to happen.
TREVOR: Fine. I can give you one hour.
ME: Thanks, buddy!
I look up and see her watching me. “Are you coming? I just got you an appointment.”
She disappears inside her door for a moment and then quickly emerges with her jacket and a small purse that she’s wearing across her body. We head down the steps, a note of excitement in the air between us.
We step outside. My motorcycle is parked right out front, but she’s still got her keys in her hand from when she locked up. I’m not sure if she’s ready for a ride on my bike just yet. I like that I already feel like there are more adventures between us to come.
“Do you want to drive?” I ask.
She’s staring at my bike with a look of determination.
“No, I want to take your bike.”
“You sure?”
She rolls her eyes. "We don't have time to argue, and it's right here."
"Okay." I nod and grab the helmet, and hand it to her. She opens her mouth to argue with me, but I jump in before she can say anything. “This isn’t up for debate.”
She makes a face that I think is meant to look menacing but instead looks adorable on her, and she doesn’t fight me. I get on and then help her get on too. She’s careful not to sit against me, so I reach back and hook my hands behind her knees and yank her forward. She makes a little gasping sound that makes my dick twitch. I can’t keep my mind from imagining her making that sound with her legs wrapped around me in another way.
I try to clear my mind, needing some of the blood that just left my brain to return.
“Hang on,” I tell her.
She leans against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I kick the bike to life, and we are off.
4
LUCY
I wasn’t ready for the hum of the engine between my legs and being pressed up against Beck, but I didn’t hate the experience. If anything, I think it kept my mind from the fact that I was riding on the back of a motorcycle. On a few of the turns, I could hear Beck grunt from my grip tightening around him. He’d run his hand over mine gently, and I knew to loosen my grip.
When we get to the shop, my legs are a bit shaky when I get off. Beck wraps one arm around my waist to steady me and the other to take the helmet.
“What’d you think?”
“I think I may have fractured a few of your ribs.”
He lifts part of his white t-shirt, showing off the muscled contours of his abs. “I think they are fine.”
“They are definitely fine. I can attest to that,” I gasp and clamp my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, that was not meant to be said out loud.”
He chuckles and leans towards me to whisper in my ear. “For the record, I like this unrestricted side of you.”
I’m filled with confidence that I’ve rarely ever felt before. I’m so used to keeping to myself, to suddenly be around someone that wants me to say what I’m thinking is amazingly refreshing.
Beck takes my hand and leads me into the shop. The electronic bell greets us as we walk in. We head straight to the front desk. The gorgeous woman working behind the counter has more tattoos than Beck and more piercings than I can count on both hands. She lights up when she sees him, and the immediate sting of jealousy strikes me.
“Beck! Where have you been?” She asks, rounding the counter and opening her arms for a hug.
Beck pulls her in, and it isn’t until they let go and step back do I notice the slight baby bump on her. She rests her hand in a motherly way over her belly as he asks her about the baby. She plucks off a sonogram picture that is taped to the register and shows him.
“It’s a girl,” she says.
“Congrats. Is Trevor freaking out?”
"You know how they say pregnant women go through a nesting phase before the baby is born? Well, Trev's beaten me to that point. He's already painted and put together all the furniture for the nursery.” The woman notices me standing there and looks pointedly at Beck. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
I half expect her tone towards me to be as sharp as the features on her face, but she seems actually interested.
“I’m Lucy.” I reach out my hand to her. “I live across the hall from Beck.”
She looks down at my outstretched hand and then back up at me before taking it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Bette."
“Bette is engaged to my friend Trevor, who is going to work on you today.
”
“So, you are the mysterious booking he had me squeeze in.” She turns and yells down the hallway lined with closed doors. "Hey, Babe! Beck's here with his new girlfriend!”
“Be right there!” He calls back.
I'm secretly thrilled when Beck doesn't correct her, but I know it doesn't mean anything more than her misunderstanding of the situation.
BECK
I know that Bette is trying to get a rise out of me by calling Lucy my girlfriend, but little does she know that I’m already finding it easier to think about a possibility of that being the truth.
There's no question that Lucy is gorgeous. I've always thought that even when she'd barely look at me when she spoke. I'd find my day a little brighter when I saw the girl from apartment 4B. I couldn't explain it then, and I can't explain it now, but I feel different when I'm around Lucy. She makes me feel a sense of calm I never felt before.
“Come on back!” Trevor calls out the door.
“Nice to meet you,” Lucy says.
“You too.” Bette smiles at her but then gives me a little wink when Lucy isn’t looking.
We head back to the room and sit down. Trevor is organizing his work station with his back to us when we walk in. He turns around, and the smile on his face falls when he looks at Lucy. I feel suddenly protective of Lucy and really annoyed at my friend for being so rude.
“You didn’t tell me she was a virgin,” he says, and I suddenly realize his concern.
“I’m not," Lucy sputters, looking from him to me. Her cheeks turn a deep pink at her embarrassment.
“Relax,” I chuckle. “He just means that you don’t have any tattoos.”
“I don’t normally work on anyone that hasn’t already had a few pieces done.”
“He had a bad experience with a client that couldn’t handle the pain and bailed on him halfway through and then got pissed at him when it wasn’t finished.”
Lucy looks from me to Trevor. “That seems a bit unreasonable.”
“It comes with the territory of doing this type of work.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise,” Lucy tells Trevor, a look of determination on her face that’s evident to both of us.
Trevor studies her a moment and then nods. “Okay, but I don’t work with an audience.”
They both turn to me.
“What? I’m not leaving.”
“You are if he says you are,” Lucy tells me in a no-nonsense tone.
Trevor chuckles to himself. “I like her. She’s bossy like you are.”
“He really kind of is,” Lucy joins in.
What just happened? How are these two suddenly allies, and they are turning on me?
“You can wait outside with Bette,” Trevor tells me and points to the door.
“But—"
“See you in a bit,” Lucy gives me a little wave as Trevor hustles me out the door and closes it in my face.
5
LUCY
Trevor finishes giving me the speech on properly caring for my new tattoo and hands me the paperwork.
"I have to admit when you picked to place it on your ribs, I didn't think you were going to make it all the way through. The ribs are one of the more painful areas to work on.”
"And I have to admit that if Beck hadn't already told me that story and I insisted that I'd be fine, I'm not sure I might have."
“I respect your honesty.” Trevor chuckles. “I get a lot of tough guys in here that show less restraint than you did.”
"I'm glad that I wasn't too much of a problem, and thank you for making the time. I didn't realize when Beck texted you that you had to make room for me."
He waves my comment away. “It’s not a problem. I like to give him shit about it, but at the end of the day, I’d do anything for him.”
I like that Beck has close friends like Trevor and Bette. I think it says a lot about a person when they have someone in their lives that would do anything for them. It's the same way Maren, Willa, Cassidy, and I are. We fight sometimes, but at the end of the day, we would drop everything if any one of us needed the others.
Beck leads me out to the front, where Bette and Trevor sit on one of the sofas in the waiting area talking. Beck stands up when he sees us, and Trevor takes his seat on the sofa. Bette stretches her legs out over his lap.
“Let’s see it,” Beck says.
I shake my head. What I chose for my tattoo is personal, and I don't want him to think that I got it for him specifically. He is connected to it, but he's not the reason I chose it.
“What do you mean no?”
“Just that,” I say with a shrug. "I might show it to you eventually, but I'm not ready just yet."
I appreciate Beck when he doesn’t push me on this.
“What do I owe you?” I ask, looking at Bette.
“Nothing, you’re all set. Beck got everything.”
I turn to him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to.”
"Thank you," I push up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, but Beck turns his head at the last moment, and our lips meet.
It's barely a peck, but I feel it all the way through my body, down to my toes. I know he feels something too from the look in his eyes when I pull back in surprise. The electronic bell chimes when another customer walks in, reminding both of us that we currently have an audience.
We say our goodbyes to Trevor and Bette and head outside. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to eat lunch today because of all the running around I did for Margot’s party tomorrow. I’m glad I already drop off what was needed, so I don’t have to go to the party early to help set up. Princess Margot can worry about something for once in her privileged life.
“Are you hungry?” Beck asks.
I put my hand over my stomach and sheepishly smile up at him. “I missed lunch today.”
He looks up and down the block, and he points out a small bistro.
“I haven’t been there, but I’d be interested in trying it out if you are.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Beck nods and takes my hand in his like it's the most natural thing in the world. I really like how my hand fits in his like they are two puzzle pieces that have just clicked into place.
We take a seat at one of the patio tables. The sun is going down, and the twinkle lights they have strung up to set the mood for a more romantic dining experience are turned on. I’m not sure if this is what Beck had in mind, but he didn’t shy away from it when we sat down.
“I have to admit, this isn’t at all how I imagined ending my day,” Beck says after the waiter has taken our order.
“How did you imagine your day ending?”
“Probably with some pizza, beer, and some video games.”
“I’m not sure I would have pegged you for a gamer.”
Beck leans towards me. “I think it’s safe to say that neither one of us had a good idea of the other before today.”
“That’s fair.”
“Do you play a lot?”
He considers this for a moment. “I split most of my downtime between playing and developing my own game."
With a bit of prompting, he lays out the game for me. It has an elaborate back story and I don't follow everything, considering my limited online gaming knowledge, but I love watching him get excited talking about it.
“It sounds amazing. Are you close to finishing it?”
“I probably have a few more months before I can try and pitch it to some gaming companies.”
“That’s exciting.”
“Yeah, it is. I don’t usually talk about it with anyone, though."
"Well, I'm glad you shared it with me."
“Me too.”
Our food arrives, and we dig in. Beck asks about my family. I tell him about Margot’s engagement party tomorrow and explain the hoops my mother is making me jump through to make it perfect for her. He doesn’t say anything when I finish, and I worry that maybe I u
nloaded too much on a question that was meant to be just polite small talk.
“Is that the reason you sent the letter?” he asks.
I look up at him in surprise. “Not initially, but maybe a part of me deep down felt I was stuck in a rut, and doing something monumentally crazy would shake me free, so I could get moving again.”
“I’m glad you did it.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
6
BECK
We talk more over dinner, and Lucy tells me how the letter she sent even came to be. She and her friends decided to write them because they all felt they were in romantic ruts and figured getting the words down on paper might jump-start their chances to move on.
“So, you are the only one who sent yours?” I ask.
She looks down at her plate and moves around the last few bites of chicken on her plate.
“Not exactly.”
I set down my fork. “What does that mean?”
“I may have stuffed all the letters in my purse before I left.”
“Did you mail them?”
“Yes, after I stuffed my letter under your door, I ran down and dropped them in the mailbox.”
“Are you crazy?”
“It’s entirely possible.”
“I can’t believe this. I finally find a woman I really like, and I'm pretty sure her best friends are going to murder her, and with justifiable reason too!"
She puts her head in her hands. "I know! I was full of adrenaline about what I did with my letter that I thought just writing the words down wouldn't be enough for them either. By the time I realized my mistake, the mail was already picked up. I tried calling the post office about getting the letters back, but they just laughed and hung up on me.”
“Can you blame them?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“When do you think the letters will get to where they are going?”