The Guy From The Tattoo Shop

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Ready?" A giggle escaped from my lips "in three...two..."

"Bring it down!!" Cece laughed as we swallowed the strong liquid for the thousandth time today. At this point the burning sensation was a memory; numbness in my throat the predominant sensation. We were a step away from the definition of wasted. Seated at the edge of the pool, I swayed to the rhythm of the music. This playlist was damn great.

I could barely control my actions. I had lost track of time; it was already dark. Most of the people were drunk. I've been next to Connor and Cece this whole time, Alex checking up on us once is a while but didn't stay for long. Cece was less tense about him; I guess alcohol had a bit to do with her sudden change. It was getting kind of chilly, so a bonfire was getting set by the guys. I was playing with the ends of my shirt while Connor played with Cece's hair. She was so annoyed by him and would slapped his hands away once in a while; he would pout and stop for a moment, then go back to touch my best friend's golden locks.

We sat the little shot glasses on the floor. I took ahold of the hair elastic from my wrist to retain my hair on a bun at the sudden heat. Everyone was splattered around the backyard laughing and having drunken conversations; I was so glad I hadn't ditched this little reunion.

Once I had enough of Cece and Connor, I stood up and went to find Alex. I looked around, until I found him trying to clean the broken pieces of a crystal artifact from the floor with a worried expression. When he noticed me approaching, he looked at me.

"I'm so fucked up."

I raised an eyebrow and ducked, helping him gather most of the pieces. "Why?"

"Because" he paused, checking his thumb carefully " great, I just sliced my skin open"

"You okay?" I asked slightly concerned.

"Yeah..." He stood up, I mirrored his action " my mom will have my balls. This was her favorite... Whatever that thing is," Alex pointed to the shattered pieces " or was..."

" Can't you get her another one before she comes back?"

"Not possible. Unless I go to France, and have an encounter with my death father so he can tell me were he got it. Otherwise, no."

I was speechless. What was I suppose to say? I'm so awkward sometimes and that's living out the whole alcoholic invasion taking control over most of the things I did or thought ; so I just said the first thing that came to my head. "was your father for France?." I was aware of how insensitive that sounded, but I could barely hold my weight in a stable position. Even drunk, I felt bad and I didn't wanted to say 'sorry' just for the natural fact that is death. It's not the right term for the moment nor the situation as strange as it seemed. I know how stupid I sounded but I.. I didn't care? Yeah, yeah. I didn't.

"My entire family is from there. I was born in Bordeaux, a city France. My mom and biological father got married in Paris; then my father died from illness when I was six. We moved from Bordeaux to Auvergne -another region in France- and then when I was nine, mom met Allard, Damian's father. Mom was a good international business woman, so she started working in his hotel and then, they felt in love. Damian was seven while then and he was one hell of a grumpy kid. Now, I have survived to count this." He laughed, I as well.

"Yeah. God you were lucky" I smiled

"I don't know why I just told you all that..."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm glad to hear it. It's interesting"

"You don't even know.."

" I have a question though..." I said/slurred.

"Mhmm?"