Yet here I am, putting myself through this burning pain because it distracts me from the real pain that I can’t get rid of any other way.
“You okay, mate?” Dave smoothes Vaseline into the area he was working on.
“Yeah, just forgot how much it hurts,” I admit.
“It hurts more the second time. Not so much adrenalin. Just say if you need a break or want to grab a drink. No problem. It’s coming along great.”
“Nah, I’m fine,” I say, pretending that I am.
Other than taking a quick piss break, I manage to contain myself for the next few hours, watching other clients come in and out. Dave senses the time when I want to talk, filling it with banter about past jobs and the numbers of feathers he inks onto girls, and keeps quiet in my more reflective moments. The whole experience is completely different to the first time. I smile ironically, remembering the snarling of Staffies which had been the only soundtrack that day.
“There, you’re done,” Dave says, with a last wipe of paper towel across the back of my shoulder. “Take a look.” I stand and admire his handiwork in the full-length mirror, twisting to see it from every angle. Wow. It’s fucking amazing. The whole top-half of my arm is filled with myrtle, delicately winding in and out around the oak tree. Even the tree looks so much better than it did before. I tear up, glad that this is honouring Dad better, as well as permanently keeping Neve with me. The two people who have truly loved me. The two people I have truly loved. Forever with me in the only way they can be.
“It’s great. It’s amazing.” I’m sure he can see how much it means.
“Cool. Sit back down and I’ll wrap it.” I do as he says. “So, can I ask, why myrtle?” I can’t tell him about Neve, about love, about me starting to realise I might have made the biggest, most fucked-up mistake of my life.
“Long story, mate. It’s personal, you know?” I guess the tears visible in my eyes are enough to stop him asking any more questions.
“No problem. It’s just I’ve never been asked to ink it before. It’s cool.”
When I walk out, the sun is shining, reminding me of the day Neve and I spent in Stratford, messing about in a boat we hired. It was another reason to come here today. Another link. Another way of making every moment we shared a permanent part of me.
What if I was wrong?
The next day followed the same routine as the week before. Garrett was waiting in the lecture hall, skinny mocha and all. I smiled inwardly and sat next to him.
“Good morning, Mister Adams.” I toasted him with my cup.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Miss Peters,” he replied in the worst Irish accent ever. I grinned.
“Don’t ever attempt that again, and certainly never in the presence of someone from Ireland. You’re liable to get a very painful reply!” He laughed and we settled down for the lecture.
We did some studying together, had lunch together and had the last lecture of the day together. Like the week before, he insisted on walking me back to my room.
“I need to go via the porters’ lodge,” I said as we approached the edge of campus. “I’ve had a text to say there’s a parcel for me.” I’d been intrigued about the parcel since I received the text a few hours earlier. As both Mum and Cass had dispatched me back to uni with gifts, I didn’t think it was anything from them and I hadn’t ordered anything online.
“I’ll leave you here, then, if that’s all right.” Garrett touched my arm and then strode off, back in the direction we had walked. Wondering why he wasn’t up to his usual gentlemanly behaviour and insisting on walking me home, I knocked the porter’s door.
After showing him my student ID, I was handed a large box, with no clue as to its origin beyond the courier’s address. Brighton. I struggled with it on the short walk back to my room, eager to drop it as soon as I got through the door. Within seconds of taking off my coat, I placed the box on my bed, almost too nervous to open it. Slowly removing the courier’s plastic wrapping, I soon recognised the name embossed in the white card of the box. The shop we had visited yesterday. It wasn’t, was it?
It was.
Folded in layers of soft, white tissue paper was the dress. The pink Issy dress I had admired. Clearly, I have self-control issues: I had my clothes off and that dress on faster than you could say ‘gold digger’.
It fit perfectly, gently hugging my arms and chest before falling in soft folds to just above my knee. I put on one of the few pairs of heels I owned, a silver pair bought for a posh wedding, and pranced and twirled around my room. Seriously, I gave Cinderella a run for her money with my over-excitement, but my strike of midnight was the flash on my phone as I took a selfie, trying to get the whole dress in. Who would I send it to? Worse still, what would they think of me for accepting this gift from someone I had known for only a matter of days?
Removing it carefully to ensure I didn’t snag the lace, I took it off and placed it back in the box. Clad in my pyjamas, I sat cross-legged on my bed, the box taunting me from my desk, and deliberated how to tell Garrett I couldn’t accept it. The ping of a text broke the brain-ache.
Yankee: Did you get your delivery okay?
Me: Yes…
Me: Can I ring you?
Yankee: Any time ☺
Me: Now?
Yankee: Give me 5?
Me: okay
Even I knew it would be rude to refuse the gift by text. After five minutes of mentally rehearsing what I was going to say, I rang Garrett’s number. No answer. Weird. I tried again. Just as he picked up, the house door buzzer rang.
“Hi,” I started, forgetting every single line I had practised.
“Hi.” The door buzzer was still ringing.
“Um, let me get the door. I can’t think with that thing going off. I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, dropping my phone on my bed and hurrying out to the corridor intercom.
“Yes?” I said, not caring how unfriendly I sounded.
“Neve, it’s me. Garrett.”
“What? Why? You were on the phone.”
“I know. Can we carry on this conversation in person? Buzz me in?” Confused, I did as he asked but the intercom buzzed again.
“Yes?” The buzzer cackled with the static of my annoyance.
“It’s me. What room are you?” I laughed and told him my number. After quickly straightening my bed, I stood at my door, strangely nervous.
“Hi, come on in,” I greeted Garrett when he turned onto the corridor. When he followed me in there was a real awkwardness. One, I hadn’t had anyone visit me in my room other than Jake. Two, I didn’t want to end up sat on the bed with Garrett, not with how messed-up my head was at that moment. Pulling the chair out from under the desk, I angled it toward the bed. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He sat down and then tapped the gift box. “So, you got the dress then?” Even he seemed awkward.
“Yes, thank you.” I paused before blurting out, “But I can’t accept it. I know how much the dresses cost in that shop. There’s no way I can take it. It’s too much.”
“I’m not returning it, Neve, so it will just be wasted if you don’t take it.”
“Well, I’m not going to. It’s not right. I’ve only known you a week.” Every reason why I couldn’t take the dress poured out of me. “It’s just not right. You can’t spend that much money on me.”
“I have and it’s money already spent. The dress isn’t going back, so your choice is to either keep it or donate it to Goodwill.” He was wicked in his calmness.
“But I can’t keep it. I can’t.”
“So donate it.”
“I can’t give a brand-new, designer dress to charity. Please take it back. It’s such a waste of money. I don’t have anywhere to wear a dress like that.” See what happened there? He’d got me thinking about keeping it.
“You have.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I would like to take you to dinner this weekend. You need something appropriate to wear.�
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“Why? Where are we going?” See? He did it again.
“Just somewhere nice. We can sort out the details tomorrow. Now I need to get home.” He stood and I followed him to the door. “Anything else to say?” he asked before I could open it.
I looked up at him and, mustering every ounce of sincerity I could, said, “Thank you for the dress, Garrett. It’s beautiful.”
“Just like you,” he whispered before lowering his head to mine. There was a split-second where I was tempted to move my head, but I didn’t. His lips touched mine lightly, then more insistently. Garrett’s hands wound themselves in my hair, keeping my head fixed as his mouth became firmer. I felt his tongue stroke my lower lip, encouraging it to allow him access. As soon as his tongue made its way past my lips, the pressure of his hands increased and there was no way I could resist. A deep moan rumbled from his throat into my mouth before he pulled away, eyes dark and unreadable.
“I want you, Neve. I don’t want to be just your friend. I’m going to make you mine.” Before I could reply, he left, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Trembling, but unsure why, I sat on my bed, wondering what the fuck had just happened.
I spent the whole of my American Studies class worrying about facing Garrett in our Literature lecture that afternoon. Even though I had spent much of the night awake, thinking over what had happened and, critically, what it meant may happen, I still had no answers. Garrett’s kiss had left me numb; it was certainly nothing like the kisses I shared with Jake. But maybe what Jake and I had was a one-off. Maybe it got better with time.
Who am I kidding? I could remember the first time Jake kissed me, at my parents’ New Year’s Eve party: it was innocent but had still rendered me breathless and wanting more. There had never been a kiss with Jake that hadn’t turned me into a molten mess, desperate for more. Even the heat of his mouth approaching mine would be enough to turn me on. I licked my upper lip, remembering the exact texture of Jake’s lips on mine. It was enough to make me shudder with longing.
There had been no text from Garrett and no sign of him in the library so it was with a small amount of relief that I saw him, sat in what had become our usual seats, in the lecture hall. I made my way over and sat down, wondering what his greeting was going to be like.
“Hey, had a good day?” Okay, so nothing out of the ordinary there.
“Yeah. Had a good lecture on American music. You?”
“Yes, thanks. Media was a film screening so it was an easy session.” He smiled at me before turning his gaze back to his iPad. I felt a little better as he hadn’t tried to kiss me or ask about last night, but unease meant I didn’t fully process the lecturer’s words.
When the lecture was over, we walked out of the hall together and he paused.
“Can I drive you back today?”
“It’s okay, I can walk.”
“No, I want to take you home. It’s just that my car is close by and I can then drive straight off from yours. And it’s warmer!” Maybe I’m selfish but I hadn’t really thought he was walking so much out of his way when he insisted on walking me back each day. That fifteen minutes for me was half an hour for him and, although the exercise wasn’t an issue, the weather sometimes was.
“Okay.” We walked the short distance to his car and he drove us to my housing block. In silence.
“Thanks for the lift,” I started when he had pulled into a parking space. He hadn’t moved to open my door but he hadn’t cut the engine, either.
When he said my name, I felt my eyes roll but turned to look at him fully. He said nothing more but lifted one hand to my face. The tip of his index finger trailed down the side of my face before landing on my lips. After pressing lightly on them, forcing some sort of faux-kiss, he removed his hand and got out of the car.
“Goodnight, Neve,” he said, handing me my bag from the backseat.
“’Night, Garrett. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” he called as I walked to my door. I heard him get back into the car, but I closed the door behind me before he pulled away.
Confusion had me by the proverbial balls. What was happening? No, I knew what was happening; Garrett had made that clear. What I didn’t know was what I wanted to happen. I knew who could help me make sense of it all.
“Hiya, lovely. How you doing?” Cass’s friendly voice and immediate answer almost made me cry.
“Umm, I’m fine. I think.” Cryptic, I know.
“What’s up? Is it Jake? Have you heard from him?”
“No. Why do you ask that?”
“No reason. You just sound a bit, uhh, over-excited and I wondered if he had. That was all. So, what’s up?”
“You know we talked about seeing what happened with Garrett?”
“Hmmm?”
“Well, he kind of bought me a dress. And kissed me,” I admitted.
“Hang on! What exactly has happened in the, what, four days since I saw you?” Cass had a right to be incredulous; when we last talked, the plan had been to see what happened, not fast-forward into another relationship.
“We went shopping for his mum’s birthday and I saw a dress. Next thing I know, it’s being delivered. I tried to tell him to take it back but he kissed me. And…” I was struggling to find the words to explain what had gone on. Were there words which could make sense of it?
“Right, get off this bloody phone and onto Skype. I need to see as well as hear this. You’ve got two minutes,” she added before hanging up.
Exactly two minutes later, still working out what to say, I hit answer on my laptop. As soon as I saw Cass’s smile, I breathed with relief. It would be okay. She would help me sort this mess out. Someone needed to.
When I picked up the notecard, which had somehow materialised under my door during the night, I was relieved to find that at least I had a Garrett-free day to try to get my head clear.
Stood in the shower the next day, I paused just before I shaved my legs. Was shaving a sign that I was expecting something to happen? I remembered the time I had sometimes spent getting ready for a date with Jake, knowing I was unlikely to be the only person enjoying the fruits of my labours. Part of the joy was in knowing there would be a moment when he caressed my leg or nuzzled my skin, making me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. When I wasn’t going to be seeing him, I was a little less meticulous about body hair. I don’t mean that I would sport a full-on leg beard, but I didn’t worry about it every day.
Viewing visible leg and underarm shaving as being for public benefit, rather than for Garrett, I carried on. The rest of the beautifying was for my benefit. It had been a while since I had had the excuse to glam up and I wanted to feel special. For me.
I dried and curled my hair into loose waves whilst listening to a soundtrack of 80s disco, a guilty pleasure acquired from Mum. Other than applying a little more eyeliner and mascara than usual, I opted to keep the rest of my makeup fairly minimal. I wanted the dress to be the focus of attention, not me. Thinking I would need to touch up my nude lip gloss during the evening if we were eating, I went to put it in my handbag. And realised my black, slouchy hobo was not the bag I needed to go with the dress. Still in my dressing gown, and less than half an hour until I was being picked up, my options were somewhat limited. Ruby!
Quickly putting on a pretty, but not overly sexy, lilac knickers and bra set, I slipped the dress on and paused to look in the mirror. You’ll do, girl. Propping my door open, I ran barefoot across the hall and knocked on Ruby’s door.
“Hey, neighbour,” she greeted me before looking me up and down. “Cinderella, you seem to have lost your shoes. If you fit mine, does that mean we get married and live happily ever after?” I smiled at her friendly innuendo.
“Sorry, but I’m already taken tonight. I’m after a favour. I haven’t got a bag which looks anything like halfway decent with this dress, and I’m going out in a few minutes. Do you have anything I can borrow?”
“Ah, so you want me to play Fa
iry Godmother, not Princess Charming? Boo you! Let’s see what I’ve got,” she said, wandering over to her wardrobe. The doors opened to reveal a treasure trove of colour and textures. Ruby sifted through the contents of a few shelves before pulling out a silver box clutch, coated in sequins. Looking closely at it, I saw there was a skull of slightly-darker sequins on one side, giving it enough edge to stop it being twee.
“Any good?” Ruby asked.
“Perfect. My shoes are silver so it will look great. You’re an absolute godsend!” She handed me the bag and I gave her a hug.
“So, who’s the lucky guy, then? I’m assuming it’s a guy?”
“Yes, it’s a guy,” I laughed and she pouted. “Some guy from my Lit class. It’s our first date tonight,” I confided.
“Oh, that’s good. I thought you were going to say that American I’ve seen drop you off. You’re better keeping away from him.” My heart raced. I didn’t want to embarrass Ruby with her incorrect assumption but needed to know what she meant.
“Garrett? What do you mean?”
“Oh, one of my friends is in his media class and says he is a complete sleazeball. Tried it on with someone in the first week and got all funny with her when she said she wasn’t interested.” Considering that I was intending to tell him the same thing, this got me worried. “I was surprised when I saw you with him, to be honest. I’m glad you’ve found someone else,” she added with a smile.
“I haven’t,” I whispered. “I’m going out with Garrett tonight.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. My mouth just runs away from me sometimes. I didn’t mean to offend you, you know that?”
“Of course I do. No offence taken. I’d better be going. Thanks for the bag. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.” I started to cross the hall back to my room.
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