Set in Ink

Chapter 7

I'm not sure how long I have been curled up on this gray, rough, stone path. I begin to think again just as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up. It is Vander.

"Why are you here?" he asks. "Where did you come from?"

"You jumped into the fire." I say, unable to think about anything else. "I watched you jump directly into the flames."

I carefully study him. He is sitting on the path in front of me. His shirt is burnt and has holes all over, but the rest of him looks completely untouched. He has no burns. I saw him stand in flames. He should be dead.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he replies, shaking his head and looking disappointed in himself.

"Why don't you just take your shirt off," I ask, gesturing to the little cloth there is still clinging to his torso.

"I don't really enjoy just showing everyone my body," he says.

"If that was the case you wouldn't be wearing that shirt," I say with a little smile and a wink. "It sure did seem to highlight your abs."

"Oh so you're that kind of girl," he says smiling. "You just want to see me right away. I usually try to make a big deal of showing girls my muscles but if you want me to just take my shirt off now I will."

He takes off his shirt and I can see the full extent of his abs. I see the dips and the bulge of muscle. It's quite amazing and beautiful.

"The shirt is old," he says with a sheepish smile. "That's why it is so tight."

I almost don't believe that he can be shy at all, but then he continues.

"Although I do know I have excellent abs," he says with the same smirk as before.

This seems more like him. I have only talked to him for about two minutes and I know that he loves himself. It is annoying. How can he be so sure of himself? How can he be so vain? I find it attractive though. He is so sure of himself. Of course he is. With a face and body like that.

I look down, and he gasps and quickly puts his shirt back on. I didn't have time to see his wrists or his forearm. I should have looked earlier. I will just have to ask.

"What is your Tattoo?" I ask.

He shows me his right wrist and now it is my turn to gasp. The same flames that cover my wrists cover his right wrist.

"We have the same Tattoo," I whisper. "You can help me."

"We do not have the same Tattoo," he says.

He gets up and walks away. I run after him silently. He doesn't hear me come up behind him. I begin to grab his shirt when he swiftly and quickly turns and pushes me down into the grass. We must have the same Tattoo. Why else would he want to hide his back?

"Why did you try to lift my shirt?" he asks.

He turns to me and his face is serious. Even more serious than before. I notice his cheekbones standing out again. The caramel in his eyes seems to have hardened and cracked, or maybe it is just my imagination.

"I know," I start quietly.

"What?" he asks.

I gain confidence.

"I know what is on your back," I say, my voice louder and clearer than it has ever been.

"Be quiet, and follow me," he says in a hushed tone.

He looks around as if to see if anyone is listening. There is no one for miles around.

"I just met you and you want me to follow you home?" I ask.