Writer's note—
Wow!! 1k reads! Thank you all very much for reading. It means a lot, and the support of you guys as my readers is what motivates me to continue these stories. Thank you, I'll try to do my best as a writer (and try to post more regularly).
#
We moved around on the couch until our bodies were tangled and one of Ira's hands was low on my belly, unbuttoning the snap of my jeans. I groaned and Ira lips smiled against my throat.
"Wait—" I said, finally allowing myself to put some distance between us so I could put my hands in his hair. It was soft and silky, and lovely to touch. Ira paused, watching my face and letting me touch his cheekbones, his nose and his lips. I leaned forward to kiss him again. Kissing someone...Feeling desired, feeling wanted, if only physically was something that was making my body buzz and ache in all the best possible ways. I cupped his cheeks. "You have a very nice face."
Ira gave me a soft smile. "Thank you, I'd love to continue this lovely discussion, but I just want you to keep kissing me, Derrick."
The kisses were slow and sweet, and Ira was stroking my hair and the moment was so good for me. I could kiss him forever.
Ira nuzzled against my throat, nipping there lightly. "Let's watch a movie."
"Are you sure? I want to..." I kind of wanted him to continue shoving his tongue down my throat.
"We don't have to keep our hands to ourselves during the movie, Derrick." Ira kissed the side of my throat. "Not when your skin is so soft." He left one last kiss before getting to a large blanket from another couch and the remote. He wrapped us up in a little cocoon before cycling through romcoms on Netflix.
I was somewhat surprised at the turn the afternoon had taken. I had fully expected Ira to want to go further, and I expected myself to say no. But the way my body was thrumming with excitement, I didn't know if I wanted to refuse him anything. My shirt was still there on the floor and my jeans were unbuttoned, but Ira was fully dressed and sharing the blanket with me.
I leaned my head into his shoulder while the movie started. Very quickly I learned what game Ira was playing. Every time someone onscreen kissed, he kissed me. Sometimes quick, sometimes slow, sometimes sweet, sometimes hard. There were so many kisses.
Eventually, the movie was ignored and we were just kissing, and it was so incredibly hot. I couldn't take it.
I stopped kissing Ira. "What's the endgame here?"
Ira laughed, but it was a little breathless. "We can't enjoy one another's company?" His hands were moving across my naked chest, feeling me up pretty liberally.
I sighed. "I think you're teasing me."
"I could say the same about you." Ira murmured.
"Well, I am the one with my shirt off."
"Do you remember what you told me today?" Ira said slowly.
"My lips are swollen from kissing you and I'm shirtless. Do you really think I remember what minuscule moment you're referring to?" My brain was only filled with thoughts of Ira kissing me, there wasn't really space for much else.
Ira cleared his throat. " 'You're not entitled to every thought in my head, and you don't need to act like I owe you anything. You don't actually know me.' Now, what kind of potential love interest would I be if I just rocked your world in bed before I got to get to know you?" I was distracted between Ira stroking my chest and the words coming out of his mouth.
I threw my head back in frustration. "Are you serious?"
"C'mon, Derrick. We could have such fun. Twenty questions. Let me start..." Ira tapped the side of his cheek pretending to concentrate . "Now, are you the sword or the sheath?"
I slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "I don't think that's how twenty questions works, Ira. If you just want to ask questions we can take turns. What's your last name?"
He blinked. "Dragomirov."
"You say that like—"
Ira shrugged. "I can't help that I have a very colourful history. So maybe my mom was a Russian mail order bride and I was an anchor baby." He didn't give me enough time to process that. "What's your favourite colour?
The colour of Mike's eyes, was the first shameful thought in my head and I froze. "No specific colour. What's the craziest thing you've done?"
"Smoked weed before a performance in high school. When was the last time you slept with anyone?"
"My ex, almost a year ago." Could someone regain their virgin status? I certainly felt like everything had closed up back there. "And you?"
"My ex, a month ago." Ira raised my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers. "Wanna go bowling next week?"
I gave him a confused look. "I'm not sure if I know how to bowl, but why not. How are you and Kevin related?"
"Our moms are cousins. Are you gay? Or, bi?"
I hesitated. "More into guys than girls. I do find women attractive sometimes, if she's my type. When did you start playing the violin?"
"When I was three. What's your type?"
"For guys? Nothing specific. Bigger than me, not dominant but I like strong personalities. Someone who smiles a lot. Who can make me laugh. Interesting." Shit, that sounded like Mike and Ira. "Your type?"
"What about for women?" he pressed.
I shrugged. "Physically? Curvy, with a nice ass. But I don't see myself with a woman any time soon."
"Why's that?"
I shrugged. "Seems like a lot of work. What's your type?"
Ira pretended to think about it. "Lately? Cute tattoo artists with hot tattoos, messy hair and reluctant smiles. And a little rude, if I have to be honest." Ira winked. "You know the type."
"Oh," my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. "Do I?"
Ira leaned in to kiss me. "Yeah, I'd think so. I had a good time today."
I played with the bottom of his shirt, touching the strip of pale skin there. "That sounds awfully close to a goodbye."
He didn't seem to mind my touching him. "I have work tonight." He sat vey still as if waiting for me to do something.
But, I blinked, snatching my hand away and breaking the spell."You're kicking me out...?"
Ira rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, don't say it like that. I have a whole routine before performances that I need to go through."
"What routine is that?"
Ira picked up my shirt from the floor, putting it the right side up. "Arms up."
I raised my arms and Ira slipped my shirt back on me. "You know, I take a bath, and soak while humming through the sheet music. It puts me in a good frame of mind. That's if it's classical music, if we're having one of those Star Wars or Harry Potter concert live performances, that's nothing. I can get you tickets sometime—" Ira was fussing over my hair and he almost seemed nervous. "—If you want."
I very much enjoyed being fussed over. "When's your performance tonight?"
"8:30PM."
"That's like six hours from now."
"Well, I need to practice for a few hours and then do my routine."
"I don't understand, aren't you a professional musician? How much do you really need to practice?"
"Exactly the reason why I need to keep in tip top shape."
I frowned. "You're really busy, aren't you?"
Ira winced. "Yeah, when we're not touring we typically have about one show a day, two different sets a week, and the pop music is a break more than anything. I work less than twenty hours on stage, but when you add in rehearsals, and personal practice time, and my responsibilities as principal...it gets more complicated. Listen, if you have a problem with this, I can't really fix it. I'm not telling you to fuck off but my schedule is rigid."
I wanted to see Ira more often than just squeezing into his schedule. "My schedule is more flexible, I can make it align with yours...if you want?"
Ira stopped fussing with my hair. "You would do that for me?"
"I guess maybe I want to spend time with you." I said quietly, not making eye contact.
"Gee shucks, little old me?" Ira kissed me on the forehead. "Alright, I'll shoot you my schedule."
We got up from the couch and I was surprised I enjoyed being petted, fussed over and doted on so very much. Already, I missed his touch.
But, Ira wasn't yet done. He buttoned up my jeans and straightened my shirt."I had a good time kissing you."
I looked up at Ira. "Aww shucks, I'm blushing."
"And you look so pretty when you do, Derrick." Ira sounded terribly fond towards someone he had only known for little over a week.
We kissed a little more at the doorway, Ira's hands roving slowly across my body. Eventually, he swatted me on the ass as I turned to leave.
I gave him a look and he shrugged. "Just a bit of dust from earlier. Let's go out on a proper date soon."
We said our goodbyes and I called my uber so that I could head back to the tattoo shop. Suddenly, I felt like working on my commissions and really getting things done. I wouldn't let what Tommy said change the way I thought about things. This was my new life now and I would appreciate it as it was without focusing on a life I couldn't remember.
#
Living life according to Ira's schedule was somewhat annoying. I discovered that his schedule said everything from the exact minute he woke up in the morning to bathroom breaks and there were footnotes attached as to which exercises he did exactly. It was meticulous. Almost neurotic. Kind of adorable.
He didn't seem at all like the kind of person who would live life so rigidly and yet it seemed as though he did.
Over the next few weeks I caught up on my commissions and went back to high profile tattoos. I had begun to refine my magic imbued ones, creating a basic spell for blending the tattoos into skin for easy hiding. Every now and then one of our celebrity clients would ask for myself or Chrissa to fly out but I always stipulated that we didn't do house calls no matter the bonus.
It wasn't safe for us to do house calls because I trusted our equipment and our setting the most. The shop was also situated on a wet spot that helped facilitate easier magic flow and production. Either our clients came to us or we didn't do a tattoo.
Once or twice one of Kevin's celebrity friends would come by the shop, and act all snooty like those Hollywood types do. Chrissa has developed a hard ass attitude around them and snipped their typical attitude right in the bud. Kevin came by more often as well, following Chrissa around like a puppy. Not all the staff knew quite who he was so they thought Chrissa had a weird new boyfriend. Kevin definitely was weird.
I overheard them once talking about their puzzle dates, and upon further conversation it turned out that they spent time doing puzzles together and called that a date. Weird.
Ira and I frequently grabbed breakfast together and that was nice, too. Some days Ira would pack me a sandwich and we'd eat together in my office. Ira seemed to have a myriad of eccentricities that were slowly revealing themselves like one morning while we were grabbing breakfast he admitted he wanted me to draw him.
I looked around the diner, seeing that it was considerably empty for a Tuesday morning. The waitresses attended to different tables, and conversation around the space was hushed. No one really seemed to have quite woken up at 9AM yet.
I added more sugar into my tea, giving him a look. "I thought you were joking when you said that."
"I want to know how you see me, or more like what you see when you look at me. I can't draw a straight line for shit so the fact you're an artist is insanely fascinating." Ira seemed so earnest, blue eyes that were suspiciously bright for being so dark.
Somehow touched, I felt my face burning at the compliment. "What I do isn't special, it's just—"
"You are special. What you do is special." Ira said fiercely, eyes flashing. He'd stopped all semblance of eating to stare me down. "Don't argue with me about this."
Flushing, I looked away. "I'm not arguing. Maybe we can agree to disagree."
"Nope. You're special. Point, blank and the period." Ira was pointing his knife at me in a a way that was somehow both threatening and endearing at the same time.
I laughed. "Alright, and when are we going bowling?"
"How about tomorrow night? I'm not working. And, I know this nice place. They have deep dish pizza and good beer. They're also pretty gay friendly so that's a bonus."
"Well, I don't drink so I don't really care if the place we're going has good beer."
"I noticed that." Ira paused. "If you're a recovering alcoholic or something but I'll make sure not to drink around you."
My voice was dry. "I am not an alcoholic, Ira."
Ira's brows raised. "Listen, you can be honest with me. I won't judge."
I placed my utensils on my plate before raising my arm to flag down the waitress for the bill. It was my turn to pay. "Don't make me repeat myself, Ira." Sometimes Ira would court the line between endearing and annoying. He was awfully close to annoying right at that moment.
"Alright, Alright. I'll pick you up at five, wear something comfy." He gave me a sly smile. "You know, something you can bend over in."
I snorted. "You are so ridiculous."
"Uh, actually, Derrick. I'm quirky, not ridiculous. And you have to remember to emphasize your assets."
"Quirky." I deadpanned.
"Yes. You know, edgy, quirky, special, different. Tall, dark, handsome. Brooding." Ira held out a finger for every attribute.
I shook my head. "Those words are not synonymous with one another."
Ira waggled his eyebrows. "That doesn't make it any less true."
We continued our back and forth as I paid and Ira walked me back towards the tattoo shop. He surprised me by interlacing our fingers together, but the gesture felt so right I only held his hand tighter. Ira and I took a shortcut through a small neighbourhood and he stopped us on a quiet sidewalk.
He leaned his head down to graze his lips against my cheek. "You look cute today."
And then his lips were on mine, and my hands were around his neck. The kiss was slow as our tongues melted together for a few delicious seconds. It was breathy, and wet and hot before Ira stopped kissing me.
I opened my eyes slowly, the sunlight harsh against my eyes. The neighbourhood street was still empty as I stood there catching my breath while Ira kept his hands firmly at my sides.
"I wish we met sooner." He said quietly, his eyes boring into mine. He started straightening my clothes even though they were already orderly, hands hovering.
"I think we met when we were supposed to." I said.
Ira sighed before wrapping his arms around me, hugging me to his chest, rocking us from side to side. "Still." He said softly. "I still wish we met sooner."
#
The bowling arena was like any typical bowling arena, complete with families, couples, and the occasional bowling league group. We rented our shoes and were assigned an aisle for a one hour slot.
Ira slid his hands together, putting them apart to blow on them before selecting an orange bowling ball.
"You are absolutely ridiculous." I said dryly, watching him make a spectacle out of choosing a bowling ball.
"If I'm ridiculous then why are you smiling?" Ira murmured, picking up different bowling balls and testing the weight.
"I'm not."
Ira put down the bowling ball, and walked over to me, pecking me on the cheek. I tried to stoically stare off into the distance but instead I cracked a smile.
"See." Ira said, turning back to choose a ball. "I really like making you smile, so don't be afraid to humour me sometimes."
Ira finally chose a bowling ball, doing some practice motions before he unloosed the ball from his fingertips. The ball shot down the runway, hitting most of the bowling pins on the left side. He picked up another ball, hitting every pin except for one in the middle.
Then, it was my turn, and I tried to copy Ira but the ball went into the gutter. Shit, I guess I didn't just magically know how to bowl.
I let out an embarrassed laugh. "I guess I'm really bad at this, huh?"
Ira frowned. "Let me show you." He moved in behind me, sculpting his body against mine as he guided my hand in the proper manoeuvre. My heart beat hard and I was self conscious about where we were. Ira seemed to sense my discomfort and gave me room.
I bit my lip, staring down at my shoes. Suddenly, I was hyper aware of the sounds of shoes squeaking against the flooring, talking, laughter and bowling balls knocking against pins. Even the scent of sticky soft drinks, and greasy hot dogs scorched my nostrils as my magic flared beneath my skin, my tattoos roving across my skin.
Ira stood in front of me, waiting. His voice was soft. "I can't read your mind, Derrick."
"We're in public..." I trailed off, stepping back and still looking anywhere but at him.
"That bothers you?" Ira asked.
I shrugged, shifting the bowling ball from side to side.
"Words, Derrick. Try to use them."
I huffed. "PDA isn't my thing. So...Yeah, it bothers me, Ira."
This time Ira was the one to take a step back, his expression unreadable. "That's fine. After this round we can eat, they've got some mean burgers here."
We continued bowling in silence until Ira started asking me about my magic. The topic never seeming to exhaust him. Conversation was easy as Ira listened, learning about the way I handled my magic. We segued into hobbies and how Ira was trying to get an archery and crossbow license.
"Why exactly would you need that?" I said in a confused voice, trying to get my form right, slinging the ball down the runway. I even managed to get a few pins. "Yes!"
Ira clapped for me. "That's a lot better! And I don't know, I figure it looks cool." He took a bowling ball before promptly getting a strike. Then, he raised his fist and cheered. "Derrick, if you keep playing like this I'm gonna smoke you!"
When it was my turn, I tried my best but I only got about half the set. The game continued with me getting more gutter balls than not, and Ira getting more strikes than not. Afterwards we sat in the cafeteria, juggling our fast food on trays towards a booth in the back of the space. I was beginning to worry about how often Ira and I ate out. Just because I could afford it didn't mean it was money that needed to be spent. I could be getting Sol some organic cat food diet or experimenting with new paint brushed, maybe even get a pair of shoes that weren't converse.
Ira got up to get us some condiments and ketchup packets. I looked around the food court while waiting for him, seeing lots of families and couples. The lighting wasn't as great in our area and a couple tables down I realized I recognized someone.
It was Ricky, laughing and smiling with someone who was most certainly not Mike. My stomach rocked uncomfortably as I looked for Mike.
Except there was no Mike, just Ricky and a taller, modelesque looking man were seated on the same side of the booth. I kept telling myself I wasn't seeing what I was seeing but it was definitely Ricky, obviously looking like he was flirting. His hands were in the guy's hair , getting out an imaginary piece of lint.
I looked down at my hands, fisted in my lap, rage making it feel like fire was licking across my skin and my magic choking me as much as my anger was. My hands shook as I got to my feet, not even thinking, just reacting.
I stomped over to the table, more than ready to unleash on Ricky.
#
Overall thoughts?
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What do you think of this end scene?