Like a Tattoo (Raura)

Chapter 21

Laura's POV

The damp washcloth falls from my hand, into the laundry hamper. I reach for a towel in the linen closet to dry my face. Blinking a few times, the bedroom across from me comes into focus.

Step 1: washing my face—done. Now time for a shower.

Since today is Saturday, that means tonight will be the determining factor in my and Ross's relationship.

I called the steakhouse earlier today to confirm the reservation and it's all set. The place is one of the fanciest I've seen. It's a high-end, gourmet dining restaurant centered around the perfection of filet mignon and its exceptional selection of wines. I can't remember ever going here on a date—when I was younger, I only went with my family on special occasions like when my dance studio won a competition or for birthdays.

The shower water prickles at my pale skin when I first step in, and I squeal before turning down the temperature. Slathering bar soap in between my fingers, my mind can't help but wander.

I picture the transparent, glass doors in the beach house that open up to a sunny, sandy view in the daylight. I remember from the tour that standing outside on the balcony long enough, I can feel light sprinkles of salt water splash onto my face. Even at night when the view is gone, the sweet combination of salty air and calming waves hitting against the sand will be perfect. Ross will love it.

Right after dinner at the steakhouse, I'm driving him to that house that I rented for a night, though he doesn't know about it yet. I asked his mom to pack some clothes and swim trunks in a suitcase, which is already in my room, all set to be loaded into my car.

The entire purpose of tonight is to prove to Ross that he means something to me, and a dinner date isn't sufficient. A public restaurant lacks the intimacy of conversation, and I need the seclusion of a quiet place just for the two of us in order to communicate what I truly mean to say.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a white towel, then step to the bathroom counter to put on a brightening face mask.

After all this time, I still wonder if I made the right decision to become a dancer instead of go to college. Both worlds held so much meaning for me when I was in high school, and it hurt to choose one over the other when it came time.

I'm satisfied with the decision I made, and so far I've been pretty fortunate. I haven't ever had ankle or knee injuries, which are the most common for dancers. The academy I've been training at ever since I was younger is carrying along nicely, sending bright-eyed dancers my age and younger to bigger and bolder endeavors.

In fact, when I was in London, the head of the academy recommended me to her friend in New York, who happens to be a Broadway production manager. By the time I got back to the US, a letter was in my mailbox announcing that they were considering me for upcoming shows. Just this morning I sent in my audition tape with fingers crossed.

I won't hear back for a while, but—knock on wood—my chances are rather high. I'm at the ideal age to become a Broadway performer, and an instructor from my academy, Ms. Leah, who's known me since I was five, sent in a strong recommendation letter to hopefully tilt the scale.

After fifteen minutes are up, I peel off the mask and slip into a red summer dress. It's a thick-strapped, tank top dress that clings loosely but obviously to my skin. The neckline drops low enough to subtly hint at my breasts, and to hide the seductive appeal of the dress, the material skirts out at the waist into a flirty, skater skirt sort of way. I smooth out any wrinkles with my palms, then head to the bathroom to start on my makeup.

The thing about the possibility of making it on Broadway is that Ross doesn't know I'm doing this. He didn't even know I was considering auditioning. And sadly, this feeling is all too familiar. It's the same situation I was caught in when I got the tattoo. I never told Ross about that either, and instead he found the tattoo on my finger and have to shove it in my face to get me to admit it.

I don't want to keep things from Ross anymore, but can I really blame myself? I had no idea how he would react to the tattoo if I didn't talk to him about it in the first place when I initially decided to get it. In our already fragile friendship at the time, I thought it best to keep the tattoo a secret until Ross and I were nicely reacquainted after I came home.

This time, I have no idea of what might happen if I'm offered a part on the big stage. How can I possibly bear to leave Ross? Especially after we spend our first night together as a real couple tonight and I earn back his trust. It would seem like I was playing him if I were to leave right after we get back together. 

Ross is like the adorkable tattoo on my finger—he's a permanent part of me. I refuse to leave LA if it means losing him.

I touch up on my eye makeup, bringing a crease brush in one final sweep to blend the color. One last glance in the mirror and I toss my makeup bag into my duffel bag, followed by a travel lotion.

It's five minutes before seven, and in some way I manage to run myself outside my house and into my car with time to spare, which is a miracle considering I'm not very graceful in heels. I drive for about two seconds down the street, easily pulling up in front of Ross's driveway. My shoes click-clack along the pavement as I make my way up the path.

Once in front, I take in a breath of the pre-autumn air, then raise my knuckles to knock on his door.

***

chapter 21, done.

the mv for let me cry is coming out next week and I'M SO EXCITED.

also side note I love let me cry um hello there's so much emotion and heart poured into that song tysm laura for being so open and honest with your music. <3

also hey who's gonna see tde on tour?? I probably could but I don't have anyone to go with :( I wanna hear their new music live but aghh someone fly here so we can go together.

Vote/comment!

Steph (yesifeelgoodr5)