Miss, Do I Know You?

29 - Sunday, January 24

Alex mirrored my gesture, exploring me with her gaze following her touch—a whisper of reassurance that caressed and soothed the jagged skin on my arms. Vulnerability awakened, revealing uncharted depths of emotion. Never before had anyone touched the scars carved by razors and burning cigarettes with such tenderness and comforting curiosity, yet there she was. And I felt protected.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk about something, okay?"

I smiled, letting the warmth of her words wrap around me. "I haven't for years now. But I know you are. And I'm here for you too."

Wanting nothing more than to absorb every conceivable fraction of her, I seized the precious privilege of perching upon her. But as I once again felt the raised contours of the scar tissue that had caught my attention the night prior, my gaze followed the long, jagged scar that snaked its way down her side.

She chuckled when she perceived my curiosity. "That's another remnant of my stupidity back in the day."

"Meaning?"

Alex pursed her lips, containing a smirk. "I was climbing a metal fence and got myself cut open," she said, clearly aware of how bizarre that sounded.

The absurdity of it coaxed laughter to bubble forth. "Are you serious?"

"I used to be kind of an idiot. Might have been running from the cops at that time too."

"Huh?" My eyebrows flew up to the top of my head, my cheeks still burning from the continuous smiles. "What did you do?"

"Nothing too bad, I promise."

Her smile let me know the part of her life she was referring to was something she wasn't proud of. But at the same time, she was content with the knowledge that it was a part of her past, and she had moved on to better things. I admired that.

"And what are the other remnants of your... stupidity?"

She hummed, glancing down at her bare chest. "I think you can see like fifty of them."

Beneath me, her flesh shimmered like an opal in the sun as my eyes trailed the winding paths of her tattoos. One that seized my gaze the most was a crooked smiley face right below her breast that seemed wonky and incomplete. With only half of its mouth present and looking as if someone's hand had slipped.

"How old were you got your first one?"

"Sixteen, I think. My friend was an aspiring tattoo artist, and all I heard was free tats. But at least he was good. There are some fresh ones that you can't tell apart, really. And there's multiple on my legs and this arm that I did myself. And these on my fingers too."

Spellbound, I found myself unable to tear my gaze away. "They're beautiful."

"Just like the one thing sitting on top of me and smiling like a total dork."

Once again, my heart fluttered with unfamiliar nervousness, and all I could do was gulp and deflect. "Do you regret any of them?"

"I liked them back then, which hasn't changed... for most. But there was this, um, phrase on my ass that I had to get covered up."

Although I tried to keep my expression neutral, I knew I had failed. The mere thought of her having tattoos there froze my lungs and ignited my imagination. "What was it?"

"I'm not gonna tell you."

"Something inappropriate?"

"In my defense, it was a dare," she said with an amused smile. "Back then, I was always down for a challenge and probably way too out of it to apply logic. So, let's just say I'm glad I don't have to look at it anymore."