by Len Webster
“Sorry. I’m just nervous for you. You’re going to shit yourself.”
Stephanie glared at him. “You’re so funny. I’m putting a lot of faith in you. If you have something stupid in mind, you’d better forget it. I’m not having ‘My Milkshakes’ tattooed on my boobs or something.”
A loud laugh echoed from him. “Nah, Blondie. As much as I’d like to see ‘my’ and ‘milkshakes’ tattooed on each breast of yours, we’re getting something sentimental and just for us.”
The teasing grin on Stephanie’s face vanished, and the colour in her eyes softened. There was a glint in them—one he couldn’t quite explain.
Let this be the moment you fall in love with me.
He was getting desperate. Julian just wanted her to feel what he felt. So afraid that she would never feel the same, he decided to store that one expression of Stephanie’s face in their memory vault.
“Let’s get this pretty skin of yours tatted up,” he said and tugged her into the direction of the entry.
The moment they stood inside, a Thai man with heavily tattooed arms, just shorter than Julian, waved them over to his station. Once they were standing by the chair, Julian turned his head to meet Stephanie’s questioning gaze. He knew she was wondering how serious he was. She wanted something outside what she knew, and a tattoo was more than likely the definition of it.
“Trust me?” he asked and then squeezed her hand once.
Stephanie breathed out and nodded her head. “You go first, okay?”
“We’ve got this,” he promised before he kissed her temple.
“Sit. Sit,” their tattooist instructed.
“Wait, Julian,” Stephanie called out just as he sat down.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing stupid, okay?” she pleaded.
Julian rolled his eyes. “You nag too much, Blondie.”
The tattooist laughed. “Are you two a couple?” he asked.
Unable to control his action, Julian nodded and said, “Yeah. We’re married,” before he gave Stephanie a play-along glare.
“You’re not wearing a wedding ring,” the tattooist stated, pointing at Julian’s hand.
“We eloped,” Stephanie quickly explained and placed her hand on his shoulder.
I fucking wish we eloped.
We still could.
Baby steps, Julian.
“My papa doesn’t believe in love at first sight. He forbade me from seeing Julian, so we ran away to be together,” Stephanie lied flawlessly.
Julian held back a laugh and glanced up at her. “He’ll love me someday. You’ll see.”
She softly squeezed his left shoulder and then kissed his cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Papa Blondie is going to love me. He’ll be happy we eloped.”
That’s when she frowned. “He’d kill us.”
Somewhere, beneath it all, it was as if she were really considering the idea of eloping. Stupidity was what their families would say. But sometimes, stupidity paid off. They’d be the risk that made it. He was sure of it.
“That is romantic,” the tattooist interrupted. “You two will be okay. I see it in your eyes. What would you like tattooed?”
He raised his brow at Stephanie.
See? Even Thai tattoo guy knows we’ve got something.
If only he could say it out loud. If only he could know more of her. A lot of if-onlys entered his mind.
“Julian, what are you getting tattooed?” Stephanie asked.
He shook his head to rid his menacing and intruding thoughts. Then he gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted it up and over his head. He had thought about his tattoo all day. People would no doubt ask, but they’d never get a response. It was for him and for her. With a smile, he pointed at his left pec and turned to the tattooist.
“I want an ‘S’ right here, please,” Julian requested.
“What?” Stephanie blurted out.
The reaction was what he had expected, and it warmed his chest.
“Julian! Are you insane? That’s crazy!”
He rolled his eyes as the tattooist started to put on his rubber gloves and then prepare the needle. “As crazy as eloping, Stephanie?” he asked. He’d trained his eyes on the instrument that would mark his skin.
“But—”
“Ah!” he interrupted her. “Comfort zone.”
“Julian,” she said in a soft tone—the kind his mother used to make when she’d tried to make him see reason.
A sigh fell from his lips, and he twisted his body to face her. The concerned look on her face had him lowering his hand from his chest.
“Don’t get my initial tattooed on you. You’ll regret it.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s not something I would regret.”
Stephanie frowned. “But why your chest?”
Julian took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Because it belongs there. It has belonged there since the moment I first saw you.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened, and then she stepped back.
Julian sat back into the chair and nodded at the waiting tattooist. Unsure of the man who would permanently ink his skin, Julian dug his fingers into his thighs.
“Let’s do this.”
The man wiped a cloth over his pec and then the needle lingered over his skin. Julian held his breath. Needles weren’t his favourite instrument man had ever created, but he was determined to prove to Stephanie that they could both take a step outside of what they knew.
“You sure about this, Julian?” Stephanie asked once more.
He closed his eyes and sucked in some air to calm his nerves. “Blondie, I’m sure.”
The moment the words had left his mouth, the needle pierced his skin. It was like he was being repeatedly stabbed. It was annoying and painful. The urge to curse was monumental. Instead, he clenched his jaw. Suddenly, the pinching sensation from the needle burned, and Julian let out a grunt.
Stephanie’s giggle had him opening his eyes to see the needle pierce his skin continuously. He swallowed hard and glanced over to see Stephanie with a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter.
“Give me your motherfucking hand, Blondie!” he barked and held his out to her.
Stephanie’s burst of laughter was loud and obnoxious. Though he was experiencing the worst kind of pain, he didn’t care. He loved the sound she made.
“I’m getting an ‘S’ tattooed on my bloody chest, and you’re giggling like a little girl. I ain’t holding your hand when it’s your turn. I want you to suffer,” he teased. Julian pulled his hand back and craned his neck to avoid her stare.
“I’m sorry.” She laughed and then took his hand in hers. Then she threaded her fingers through his before she kissed his temple.
Her lips were what numbed the pain. It was a better explanation than the pain being so bad that he wanted to pass out.
I’ll endure this fucking pain to prove she’s marked me.
“Julian, any way you could ease your grip? I’m losing feeling in my hand,” Stephanie complained.
“Have some compassion,” he said as his thumb rubbed the back of her hand.
Fifteen minutes of pain had passed before the tattooist lifted the needle and then wiped at Julian’s chest. Once the tattooist had taken a step back, Julian looked down at his pec. In black ink was a large, cursive ‘S.’ He grinned, proudly.
“Do you regret it?”
Julian shifted his gaze back to Stephanie to see her biting her bottom lip. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he shook his head.
“Never in a million years,” he stated confidently before he got out of the chair.
Stephanie continued to look at the ‘S.’ Julian let her hand go and then placed his on the side of her face. He brought her forehead to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to it.
“You nervous?” he asked when he pulled back.
She had inhaled deeply before she sighed. “No.”
“Trust me
?”
“I do, Julian.”
His grin deepened. This woman. This beautiful woman, he could love forever. And when she smiled at him, he swore he was breathless and forgot the hell he had suffered while having been branded.
“Come sit,” the tattooist instructed once he had changed needles.
Stephanie’s eyes widened as the panic swept over her face. Julian chuckled and stepped aside.
“You’ve got this. Sit with your back to the guy,” he said.
She did as he’d asked of her and sat on the black chair, staring up at him. Julian then brushed her hair over one shoulder. Once his hand was on her shoulder, he looked her in the eye and nodded.
“Is it going to be as sentimental as your tattoo or as sentimental as ‘My Milkshakes’?” she asked with a smile.
Julian stood straight and took her hand in his. “Mate, can we get a ‘J’ on the back of Stephanie’s neck? Like what you did for me.”
“Damn,” she cursed.
“What?” he asked in a worried tone.
Her shoulders sagged. “I was hoping for ‘My Milkshakes’ tattooed on me.”
Julian laughed at her joke. “Maybe the next one, Blondie.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
Suddenly, the buzzing from the needle sounded. The moment Stephanie felt the needle pierce her skin, she tensed and squeezed his hand. She didn’t groan or curse. She seemed calm. But Julian knew that the back of the neck was a painful part of the body to get a tattoo. He, himself, cringed from knowing that she could be hurting.
“You’re taking this like a champ,” he assured her.
Her smile curved into a sly grin. “Jealous that I can take it and you can’t?”
He pulled his hands from hers the moment the tattooist removed the needle. “Well, you can hold your own damn hand!”
Stephanie’s nostrils flared. “The hell I’ll do that. Give me your hand, Julian!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know…”
“Yes, you do— Oh!” she cried and then closed her eyes.
Julian noticed that she’d formed her hands into tight fists. He quickly bent his knees and placed his palms on her wrists, his thumbs soothing her skin.
“Stephanie, do you regret it?” he asked.
Her eyes shot open. “I hate that we haven’t eloped yet,” she forced out.
“What?” he blurted.
She winced. “Then this would be pretty sentimental.”
Julian leant forward and grazed his nose against hers. “Heads, we elope. Tails, we don’t.”
“Heads,” she breathed without a blink. “Heads all the way.”
Fuck.
“Mate, you almost finished with that tattoo? Blondie here is delusional in pain.” Julian straightened his back and looked at Stephanie.
The tattooist sat back and said, “Done.”
“Oh, thank God!” Stevie groaned as she wiped a tear away.
“I’ll get the tall mirror,” their tattooist said and left them alone.
“Stephanie?”
“Hmm,” she mumbled as she got up from the chair.
“Do you realise that something crazy just came from your mouth?” he asked and raised both eyebrows several times.
“What? That I asked you to elope with me? Or that ‘My Milkshakes’ was a more sentimental tattoo?”
“You really want to elope?” he asked, hopeful.
Stephanie spun around so that her back was to him and turned her head as if to see the ‘J’ on the back of her neck. “How does it look?” she asked.
He wasn’t sure if she was distracting him or if she had been distracted.
Julian’s heart squeezed at the sight of his initial on her skin. He hadn’t told her why he’d chosen the back of her neck. When he listened to her read, he’d brush her hair out of the way and kiss the spot where her tattoo was permanently located.
“Beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her shoulder.
“Would you really elope with me?” Stephanie had asked in a small voice before she faced him.
His brow furrowed. “Of course, I would. Why wouldn’t I?”
She flinched. “You would marry me? A complete stranger?”
“I got a big, fat ‘S’ tattooed in honour of you. I wouldn’t mind being stuck with your nagging for life,” he explained.
Stephanie let out a laugh, sounding incredulous. “We’re insane.”
Julian cupped her face, his eyes set on hers. “No. We’re eloping.”
She blinked twice and breathed, “We’re eloping.”
We’re going to elope.
Holy shit.
What the fuck?
What was I thinking?
Stevie stared out at the water as the warm breeze swayed the hammock she was sitting on. Elope. As in get married. They were going to do that. They hadn’t been intoxicated or high. Two very sober adults had made a decision…to get married.
Where in the hell was our logic in all of this?
“Are you sure you don’t want to come have lunch with me and my friends?” Julian asked once he came onto the balcony.
Stevie got up from the hammock and spun to see him leaning on the door with a pleading look on his face. She shook her head and proceeded to make her way to him. When she stood in front of him, she traced the area just below where he’d had ‘S’ tattooed on his chest, wishing it was his naked skin rather than his shirt.
Last night, they’d fallen asleep in the hammock. This morning, she had gone back to her hotel room to shower and change. When she’d returned, Julian had asked how and when they would elope. She had just shrugged and said that it had to be as spontaneous as the idea had been.
From what she knew and had learnt about Julian, he wouldn’t be so bad to be stuck with. He was kind and funny. He had a big heart. He seemed like the kind of guy she could never get bored of. From the basics, she loved him. The more detailed part, she was afraid to love. It was all crazy, at the moment, stupid gestures. What they were high on was their summer romance. But she knew that, if she felt more tonight, eloping wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Some of the world’s most spontaneous discoveries turned out to be the better achievements of mankind. There was a possibility that that could be them. She felt it in her bones. And knew it in the way her heart seemed to never function properly around him.
“You’ve barely spent time with your friends. Go have lunch with them. I’ll meet you on the beach at two,” she confirmed.
“Two sounds good to me, Blondie,” he agreed and bent down to kiss her.
His lips were soft caresses that tore through every wall and defense mechanism she had. A kiss that made eloping sound so easy. And a kiss that made everything make sense when it came to him.
There was no tongue or desperation to their kiss. They found something slow. Something passionate. Something they could call their own. For a moment, she believed that something was more.
“Mmm, your friends,” she reminded against his lips.
Julian pulled back. “God, I hate those assholes. Okay, I’ll go. I’ll meet you on the beach.”
Stevie stepped back and brushed her hair behind her ear. “Julian…”
His eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”
“Don’t go falling in love with some blonde on the beach, okay?” she half-joked and half-instructed.
Julian lightly laughed before he wrapped his muscular arms around her and held her tight against his chest. “Only if you’re on that beach… If you’re lucky.”
She playfully pushed at his chest and then crossed her arms over her breasts. “Whatever. Go to lunch, Julian.”
He took a step forward and pointed at his pec. “I’m yours for eternity, Blondie. Here’s the proof.”
Stevie bit the inside of her cheek to prevent the smug smile from plastering her face. “Very spontaneous proof,” she noted.
“As spontaneous as us,” Julian confirmed before he kissed the top of her head and smiled down at her.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if we were more after this holiday, right?” she asked herself.
She leant back and stared up at the blue sky. Clear and picturesque. No matter what happened in the end, she had had the most incredible summer holiday with him.
But that’s what we are.
A holiday.
An escape from reality.
The thoughts caused her chest to tighten. Her fingers went to the back of her neck and felt across her tattoo. The way Julian made her feel was extraordinary. No one had come close. The idea to elope had slipped. But it had become a want. A spontaneous way to keep him forever. The night she had asked him to forget their first heads or tails, she had asked him to trust her and be all in instead. What Julian hadn’t realised was that she had wagered sex and her virginity. She wanted to feel what he felt. Stevie wanted Julian to be her first.
If this is all we have and we have to leave it someday, I want him to have every single piece of me.
It was ten minutes to two when Julian walked onto Karon Beach to see Stephanie sitting where he had met her almost a week ago. Lunch with his university friends had been a form of torture he had never known. Things that should have made him laugh didn’t. Willa and Dean actually being a couple should have made him happy. Instead, he couldn’t get Stephanie out of his mind. He wondered about her every thought. Wanted to know them and share them. In all honesty, Julian wanted to be with her. And when his friends had finished lunch, he’d said his good-byes and ran for the beach.
Weaving through the tourists, Julian made his way to Stephanie. When he reached her, he sat on the sand behind her. Stephanie craned her neck and smiled the moment he kissed her cheek. Letting out a sigh, she returned to the book she was reading. Then Julian moved her hair to the side of one shoulder and let his index finger gently trace the ‘J’ tattooed on her neck. She’d argued that she hated the bandage and was adamant that her hair would cover it from the sun. The moment ‘elope’ had passed her lips, he had known he wanted her for life. He had never been the type to believe in love at first sight. Until he’d found Stephanie.