Inked Hearts

by Lindsay Detwiler

  He leads me through his bedroom. It’s what one would expect from a masculine bachelor pad.

  Barren.

  There are no cute quote pillows on the bed or anything on the walls. I guess Kat’s claws weren’t in very deep, or Jesse did a good job at obliterating any female presence in the apartment. It looks utilitarian and efficient, nothing more. There aren’t too many socks piled on the floor by the hamper, and the bed is sort of made, so I guess Jesse earns points for being more organized than me.

  Not that it matters. Not like I’m moving in or anything.

  “Sorry. The place could use some decorating, I know,” Jesse says, as if he’s read my mind.

  “No, it’s….”

  “Boring? Plain? Not sure what adjective you were going to fill in the blank with.”

  “Efficient?” I ask, as he slides open the glass door that leads to a tiny balcony. From here, there’s a nice view of the backstreets of the city. The humid air blows my hair as I take the beer he’s handed to me and lean over the edge just a little. It’s the warmest night we’ve had in a while, so it feels good to get a blast from the hot summer air.

  “Not sure efficient is what you want in the bedroom,” Jesse says, and I smack his shoulder. “Well, am I right?”

  “I’m not answering that,” I say, feeling myself blush. The buzz of the alcohol we’ve been drinking, though, is numbing me a little bit. “This is really cool.”

  I look down to what would be the front of J & J’s tattoo parlor.

  “Whoa, easy,” Jesse says, pulling me back.

  “I’m fine,” I say, grinning. “It’s not like I’m going to fall.”

  “I’m not taking any chances. I don’t need any cracked skulls in front of my place of business.”

  “Might draw attention,” I tease. We quiet, staring out at the starry sky. This isn’t exactly primo stargazing property. The streetlights blot out a lot of the good constellations. Still, I can pick out a few from my astronomy class.

  “Do you come out here a lot?” I ask, still staring at the sky.

  “Yeah. It’s nice after a long day of work to just wander up the stairs and head straight out here. It’s a good place to think.”

  “It’s peaceful.”

  “When there isn’t a tattoo machine buzzing below, yeah.”

  “Do you want to eventually move out? Get a house or something?” I ask.

  “Yeah, we’ll see. With just me and Jake, it works, you know? It’s easy for me to go to work and to come check on him. But someday, if I have a family, I don’t think living above the tattoo shop will always work.”

  I nod, looking further out into the distance. A family. He used the word “if,” but that means it’s a possibility.

  I guess he hasn’t completely closed all the doors, either.

  We stand for an hour or so, talking about all sorts of topics. The thing with Jesse is we never run out of things to talk about. He comes off as shy and quiet initially, but the man can tell stories that go on for days.

  I involuntarily shudder, the night air picking up and chilling my bare shoulders. This blast of warmth isn’t fooling anyone—fall is lurking around the corner. I can feel it.

  “Do you want to go back in? You look cold,” Jesse says. I nod. But then I freeze in place as he gestures toward the sliding door. I tentatively step toward the door, sliding it open.

  Another awkward dating dilemma. Do I linger in the bedroom, my thoughts obvious? Or do I run straight out of there, beeline for the sofa in the living room, to safe territory? Option A would obviously scream that I’m moving fast and a bit horny. Option B would scream I’m not interested at all and am verging on asexual.

  Neither are prime options. Although, if I’m being honest, the problem is I haven’t quite decided which camp I’m in. Obviously, my body is rooting for the sex-it-up option. Jesse’s damn hot, he’s got charm and personality, and I’m falling for him more and more. The buzz of the alcohol only adds to the appeal of the first choice.

  However, the reserved side of me says it hasn’t been that long, that I need to go slow. Even in an alcohol-induced haze, I can still sense the danger of going all in.

  Decisions, decisions.

  “So, can you stay for a while? Maybe we could pop on Netflix?”

  Again, Jesse’s taken over the driver’s seat. I exhale in relief. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  I walk casually toward the living room, pretending I’m not inwardly imagining him grabbing my arm and tossing me on the bed, thrusting the covers away and thrusting in all sorts of other ways, too.

  Thank God he’s not really a mind reader, or I’d be uncovered in more ways than one.

  ***

  There’s an eerie light coming in my window. It’s not at the right angle. Did I move my bed or something?

  When my eye slowly cracks open, I notice something else weird. There isn’t a purple wall or even a yellow wall from the living room.

  There’s a white wall, an unrecognizable flat screen in front of me.

  And my head isn’t on a pillow.

  It’s on a lap.

  I jump, startled by the foggy realization.

  “Jesse,” I screech, shaking him. He’s leaning at an odd angle on his neck, the navy plaid of the couch his only support.

  “Ow,” he says, rubbing his neck right away. “What the—”

  “I think we fell asleep. What time is it?” I scramble from the couch as if I’m a teenager who’s been out past curfew. I grab my cell phone from the coffee table. It’s eight fifteen in the morning.

  We slept through the night.

  “Jesus, it’s eight fifteen.”

  “Do you have work?” Jesse asks, still working out the kink in his neck.

  “Shit, yes. I’m on at eight thirty.” I scramble to find Henry, who after some thorough investigation of Jesse’s apartment, is on his bed. Slobbering. Jake is on the bed, too, sidled up against Henry.

  Go figure. My dog spends the night in Jesse’s bed while I fall asleep lamely on his sofa.

  I notice Jesse’s pillow is sopping wet with drool. Great. As if this can’t get any better.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, turning to Jesse who is now behind me observing the same thing.

  “It’s fine. Could be worse. Anyway, just leave Henry here. He’s comfortable. I’ll let him and Jake out later. You can stop and get him sometime tonight.”

  Tonight. Another night with Jesse. This is becoming a regular thing. But I think I’m okay with that. More than okay with that.

  “Maybe tonight we won’t fall asleep like grandparents on the couch. Wow, we’re bad at being wild and fun.”

  Jesse laughs, still rubbing his neck. “Yeah we are. Oh well, I guess we just got comfortable. Although I don’t know how the hell we did that, judging by my neck. Jesus. Maybe next time we should watch Netflix in bed.”

  I startle for the second time this morning.

  “Shit. That sounded like a total come-on,” Jesse says, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Was it?” I ask, my morning sleepiness perhaps dulling my censor.

  “Maybe. But listen, you’ll have to think about it all day at work and decide. You’re going to be late. Get out of here, woman.”

  “Gladly. See you later. Thanks for a good night.”

  “I’m not complaining because I did have fun. But this is sort of the strangest date night I’ve ever had. I mean, between the falling asleep on the couch and waking up fully clothed to the huge dog you’re leaving drooling in my bed, I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  I shrug. “Guess you’ll have all day to think about it. Thanks for watching Henry. Hope he’s not too much trouble.”

  “I’m sure Jake won’t mind,” Jesse says. I lean in to kiss his cheek goodbye, trying to forget about the morning breath I most definitely have.

  Jesse doesn’t seem to notice the breath because he leans right in, claiming a kiss from my lips, lingering for a moment. I’m almost tempted to cal
l in sick and spend the day exploring those lips a little more.

  The old Avery still very much inside, I snap back to reality and decide to be responsible. I dash out the door and hightail it toward Midsummer, thinking about how weird it is I’m doing the walk of shame into work—but I didn’t even have sex.

  ***

  “Uh-oh. Walk of shame, folks,” Jodie announces as I scuttle through the door of Midsummer Nights. Luckily, it’s an hour before opening, so it’s only Lysander and Jodie. I’ve made it with only a minute to spare.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Jodie as I rush behind the counter.

  “Why, hello to you too, dear roommate. Why yes, I’m feeling great this morning.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean you don’t usually work this early.”

  “I’m filling in for Joseph. He called in sick.” Jodie’s already getting place settings ready for the morning crowd.

  “Big surprise, huh?”

  “Enough of this small talk. Give me the details.”

  I shake my head, trying to simultaneously smooth out a wrinkle on my sundress. Pretty sure I’m not looking too professional this morning.

  I head to the coffee area behind the counter and pour myself a cup.

  “You look rough. Although, your hair isn’t too messy. Sex hair is supposed to be messier.” Jodie leans on the counter across from me, fluttering her eyelashes as if she’s waiting for the scoop.

  “I think to have sex hair you have to have sex,” I mutter between sips.

  “Are you kidding me? You were gone all night with Mr. Hot Stuff, and there was no sex? What, did you guys spend the evening knitting blankets?”

  “Playing video games and watching Netflix.”

  “Oh my God, you’re reprehensible. Both of you. What, are you both a hundred? You do know that at an adult sleepover, you’re not actually supposed to sleep, right?”

  “We had a good night.”

  Jodie smirks, shooting me a glance. “I’m starting to wonder if you know what a good night means. Jesus. Just get on with it already,” she teases, heading to the kitchen area to start prepping some things for the first customers.

  I smile, shaking my head. Lysander is at the bar area, where he’s been listening in.

  “You know, she’s kind of right. I see the way you two look at each other. What are you waiting for? You’re two consenting adults who are single. I can tell you’re crazy about each other. What’s the holdup?”

  I busy my hands with a cleaning rag, wiping off the counter that’s already spotless. “I don’t know. I think it’s just a big step, you know?”

  “But don’t you think you’re ready?”

  “I don’t know. I’m falling for him. Hell, I might even be in love with him. But to start another relationship seems so risky.”

  “Honey, I don’t think you have a choice. I think it’s already started. So why half-ass it?”

  “That’s right,” Jodie says, giving my bottom a little slap. I jump. “Get your whole ass in the game.” She slaps my ass with a towel, making an over-the-top whipping sound effect as she does.

  I give Jodie a playful shove before speaking up. “You’re ridiculous. That Craigslist ad made you seem so sweet.”

  “Well, didn’t your mother ever teach you not to believe everything online?”

  “Yeah. She was worried you were a serial killer. She had no idea it was even worse.”

  Jodie lets out a creepy, maniacal laugh, and Lysander laughs from across the room. Despite her nosiness and her constant tendency to dissect my sex life—or nonexistent sex life for now—I’m glad to see her laughing and happy.

  It might even be contagious, because despite the fact George stops by for some breakfast and stays through the lunch hour, I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. Despite my wrinkled outfit and smudged mascara, I feel refreshed and hopeful, even if I did mess up the whole adult sleepover thing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Oh my Lord, will you two just sleep together already? I can’t stand your googly eyes for each other.”

  It’s Tuesday night, and I’m on break—in Jesse’s booth, of course. We’re holding hands across the table, only pulling away to eat a fried pickle every now and then. Jodie is leaning on our table, rolling her eyes at us but grinning.

  “You know, you pushed for this. This is kind of your fault,” I say, my mouth full.

  “I know. Don’t remind me. I’m great at matching everyone up but myself,” she says, turning to see Reed sitting at the bar area, laughing with Lysander. “It’s just a freaking Valentine’s Day commercial in here.”

  “What about that Martin guy you met over the weekend?”

  “Yeah, well, without the tequila clouding my judgement, I realized he’s a little nasally.”

  “Shallow much?” I tease.

  “Not all of us just stroll into a great relationship.”

  “You’ll find the one. Give it time.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll just gawk at you two and live vicariously through your romance.”

  “Fried pickles. Such a romance,” Jesse jokes.

  “It’s romantic to me.” I pretend to swoon.

  “Okay,” Jodie announces, standing up. “I draw the line at talking about Jesse’s pickle. That’s where I’m out.”

  I feel myself blush, and Jesse just shakes his head.

  “So honestly, just sleep with each other, get it over with. God, this tension is noticeable across the room. Lysander,” she yells to the bar. “Can you let Avery off early? She needs to go get laid.”

  “Jodie,” I shriek. “Customers are listening.”

  “Honey, you’re not fooling anyone. They all know I’m right.”

  An elderly couple in the booth near us looks appalled. I look long enough to notice, however, that the woman eventually shrugs, and nods as if in agreement.

  It’s mortifying.

  I want to climb under the table, but Jesse just squeezes my hand to comfort me. How the hell did I go from swearing off men to having my sexual desires discussed in a restaurant?

  Life has taken quite the turn.

  Jodie rushes back to her table.

  “So, anyway,” Jesse says, grinning. “Before you get back to work, I wanted to show you something.”

  “Boy, am I glad you waited until Jodie left to say that.” I grin.

  “Here,” he says, pulling a folded-up paper from his wallet. “What do you think?”

  Before me is a picture from what looks like a home interior magazine. In the picture is a bright blue wall with a mural in the middle. The mural is made to look like the wall has been torn away, almost like paper. In the middle is an underwater scene, gorgeous in its execution.

  “First, I’m wondering when you find time to read Home & Garden magazine.”

  He shrugs. “A guy has his secret pleasures, right?”

  “Pleasure. Now that’s a nice word,” Jodie says as she walks by to give the elderly couple their drinks. I jump and shake my head.

  “Anyway, I was thinking this would look nice at J & J’s. You know, sophisticate it up a little bit.”

  “Yeah, I think it looks neat. Not too classy.”

  “So you don’t think J & J’s is classy?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Well, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I think you did.”

  “I didn’t, really.”

  He sighs, putting a hand to his chest. “You know, I work really hard to make J & J’s come off as sophisticated, and to think one of my artists doesn’t think it is. Well, that stings. There’s only one way I think you can make up for it.”

  “What?” I ask, a little confused about where he’s going with this.

  “Let me hire you to paint this.”

  I shake my head. This was not where I thought he was going. Apparently I’ve been around Jodie too long. I need to get my head out of the gutter. My cheeks heat.

  “Why are you so red?” he asks.


  “Nothing… it’s just…. Never mind.”

  His grin widens, and he raises an eyebrow. “You thought I was going to ask you something indecent, didn’t you? My, my, Ms. Johannas. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “I did not,” I vehemently reply, although it’s an utter lie.

  “Anyway, what do you say? Will you do it? I will pay you… with money, just to be clear.” He winks now, and I can’t help but giggle before turning serious.

  “I don’t think I can do it. I’m not good enough.”

  “You know, I hear you always doubting yourself, but your work says otherwise. You tell me you can’t draw, and then I have your flash art flying out of my book onto people’s skin. You tell me you can’t possibly go parasailing, and then you do it and love it. You tell me you’re not that good at painting, but I’ve seen your work. Have some faith. You’ve got it.”

  I look at the picture and then at Jesse. He believes in me. I should say no, that it will be too risky and too much work. What if I can’t do it?

  Then again, what if I can? The thought of painting, of doing something creative, appeals to me.

  So, after a long moment, I nod. “Okay. When can I start?”

  “Whenever you have time. No rush. You can come paint whenever you want. I already cleared off the wall.”

  “Mighty confident I would say yes.”

  “Come on. How could you resist my charm? Especially over fried pickles?”

  I smile. “What if it looks horrible? What if it’s bad for business?”

  “It won’t be. It will be fabulous. And besides, if it’s terrible, we can always hang a few posters over it. No worries.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Such faith you have.”

  He grows serious for a moment. “I do have faith in you. I just wish you had faith in yourself.”

  I nod. “Well, I better get back to work before Jodie comes back over and makes some sexual innuendos.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later then?”

  “Okay. I’ll swing by after work so we can get things started.”

  Jodie passes by and winks at me.

  “Don’t even say it,” I command. She puts her hands in the air.