“God, no.” She laughed lightly but pressed her lips together, her eyes on my bag. “Are you going to show me your tattoo before I have to go?”
I hesitated. It was the most telling piece I’d gotten since I got Mom’s birthdate on my shoulder. “Yeah. Soon.”
She ran her fingers over my head lightly. “You cut your hair, huh?”
I kissed her gently. “Yep. I have to report for duty in the morning.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes still on the bag. She sighed and looked away, her gaze on my pillow. “Are you bringing my shirt with you?”
I arched my neck, spotting the purple sweater I’d been hugging earlier. My cheeks heated, and I debated whether to admit why it was there. Would she think it was pathetic or sweet? If I told another guy, he’d call me names I didn’t even say out loud.
But this was Carrie.
“Well, you see…” I cleared my throat. Something told me I was turning in my man-card by admitting this, but f**k it. I didn’t need it. “I missed you. So I may or may not have been sniffing your sweater right before you came.”
Tears filled her eyes and she wrapped her arms around my neck. “That’s way too cute.”
“Are you sure?” I kissed her, keeping it light and sweet. “It might just be creepy.”
“I’m positive as a proton that it’s cute and not even the slightest bit creepy.”
I chuckled. “I missed hearing that phrase….” I trailed off and kissed her neck, desperately breathing in her scent so I could carry it with me all weekend. “Did you want to see my ink now?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said, craning her neck and trying to peek. “I’ve only been begging for the past five minutes. What is it?”
I peeled it back enough for her to see. “It’s our tattoo.”
I watched her as she read it, her mouth silently moving along as she read the words. It was in a script-type scrawl: the sun is finally shining. It was over my heart, which was fitting since she owned it.
“It’s perfect.” She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. “I want one, too. When you get back, you’ll take me. Got it?”
“You want ink?”
“I do. I want that one.” She ran her fingers over it gently, making sure not to hurt me. It was still raised and red and covered in the antibacterial goo, but I didn’t tell her not to touch it. I didn’t give a damn. “That same exact one.”
“Then you’ll have it.” I kissed her gently. After grabbing her hand, I helped her to her feet and hugged her tight, my heart hammering away at the idea of her walking away from me. “But now you have to go. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.”
“I’m not making any promises.” She buried her face in my chest. “Hey, where are the rest of my clothes?”
“Under the bed. You can hang them back up once your parents are gone.”
“I will.” She hugged me tighter, obviously as reluctant as me to let go. “Do I have to go?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell her she could stay, her father be damned. But I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, even if it felt like it right now. “You do.”
“But the sun is finally shining,” she said, her voice muffled because she had her face pressed against my bare chest.
My heart fisted painfully, making it hard to breathe. “It really f**king is.” My fingers flexed on her, but I forced myself to let go. “I’ll follow you from a distance, okay?”
“Okay.” She bit her lip. “But it’s only a two-minute walk to my car. I’ll be fine.”
“The day I let you walk around at night by yourself is the day I’ll be dead in a coffin.” Which reminded me… “Are you going to the soup kitchen with Marie?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I have tons of McDonald’s gift cards sitting in my room.”
“That’s fine, but leave before dark—no matter what.” I shooed her out the door. “Now get that perfect ass walking out that door so I can follow you.”
She gave me one last longing look, then opened the door and left without another word. I silently slid out of my apartment about ten seconds later and followed her. She didn’t acknowledge my existence, but she knew I was there.
When she got in her car—which turned out to be a used 2003 Mercedes SL500—and drove off, she craned her neck to watch me until I worried she’d crash into a telephone pole. I had to tackle the desire to chase after her car and drag her back to my apartment where she f**king belonged.
I leaned against the wall in the alleyway and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe how much a man could change in the blink of an eye. Before her, I didn’t want a relationship or love. I wanted to focus on work and life before settling down, if I ever did. Now, all I could think about was love and marriage and babies and all the shit that came when you signed your heart away to another person. And yet, amidst all of the dreams, hopes, and desires, I knew that this time tomorrow…
I would find out whether our love would withstand what the world was going to throw our way.
Carrie
I crept up the stairs to my dorm, my heart racing as I hid in the shadows. I was fairly certain Dad’s guards hadn’t caught on to my ruse, but with them, you never knew. They were all sneaky bastards that made a living off following you around. And they were good at it, too. After all, Dad only hired the best.
I slipped into my dorm room, closing the door behind me quietly. As I leaned against it, I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Finn to let him know I got home all right. He replied immediately, wishing me a good night, and I closed my eyes, holding my phone to my chest.
Going to see him had been a risky move.
But he was leaving tomorrow morning, and I’d missed him, and it had to happen. I was terrified that once he showed up tomorrow, he wouldn’t be coming back. Scared that something or someone wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t leave me.
I pushed off the door and crossed the room quietly. I peeked in the direction of Marie’s bed, but it was empty. Guess I didn’t have to be so quiet. I flopped back on the bed and looked up at the dark ceiling. I should probably shower or something, but I didn’t want to move.
I kept replaying the short visit with Finn over and over in my head, like a baby’s lullaby. He’d actually gotten a tattoo for us. That was huge for him. We didn’t talk much about his tattoos, but I knew each one had a special meaning behind it. He didn’t mindlessly ink himself.