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My throat tightens, almost like a fist squeezing me. His mother tries to kill herself yet mine fought for me, still fights for me, and I ignore her.
Maddox is as closed off as I am, yet he’s given some of himself to me. He’s given me way more than I’ve shared with him. He covered for me today when he didn’t have to. And I feel… normal when I’m with him. It doesn’t matter that I’m the tattooed, pierced chick with the bad mouth. I’m just Bee.
That means something to me.
The urge to give him a part of me in return takes over.
“His name was the Professor.” Even though I should, I don’t lift my head from his shoulder. Despite the fact that I haven’t said who the Professor is, Maddox doesn’t ask. He’s letting me go at my pace. He knows me… Somehow through all of this, he knows me. I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I never really fit in when I was in high school and honestly, I didn’t give a shit.”
Tell him why. I can tell him why. That I was taken when I was young. Then when I went back home, I felt like I didn’t fit with my family. It hurt too. I wouldn’t let myself care if I fit anywhere else.
“I always drew, so that’s what I focused on—drawing and doing my own thing. When I turned eighteen, I decided to get my first tattoo and that’s where I met the Professor. He was old as hell, but good at what he did.”
I startle a little when Maddox’s arm lifts and wraps around my waist. Crazily, I can’t find the urge to pull away.
“So yeah, I went into see the Professor and I had my own drawing of what I wanted.” I bite my lip, hating to admit this next part. “I don’t know why, but I couldn’t do it. It’s like my hands wouldn’t work and I couldn’t grab the drawing out of my pocket to give it to him. I was freaked out, so I left.”
“I don’t believe that.” There’s a hitch to his voice that makes him sound different than he usually does. I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s trying to make me feel better.
“Nice try.”
“Was worth a shot.”
“I appreciate it.” That’s Maddox, I’m realizing. I can see him doing something like that for his sister—can see him trying to make her feel better.
“For the next week I was pissed at myself. I wanted that ink and I wasn’t the type of person to get scared of something. So I went back and then kind of freaked out again. Every week for a month, Maddox. I went back four separate times. By then the Professor started calling me ‘the B-Back.’ It’s what they call—”
“People who chicken out getting a tat,” he interrupts.
Not sure why I didn’t think he’d know that. “Yep. I was the girl who always said she’d ‘be back.’ Crazy, isn’t it?”
He moves a little as though he’s getting more comfortable. You can move your arm, plays on my tongue, but I don’t let the words free. I should want him to move away. I don’t.
“I’ve heard crazier.”
At that I pull away enough so I can look at him, wondering how in the hell we got here. How I got here with anyone. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re nice.”
He tilts his head down and the urge to reach up and kiss him teases me.
“I could start thinking the same about you.”
Then he says nothing—back to his quiet and waiting for me to finish the story.
I look away again. “I was pretty pissed at myself. It was a tattoo. I’d been through way too much in my lifetime to freak out over that, so I went back, the drawing in my hand. Without a word, I handed it to him and he said he knew I’d do it.
“So I did. I let the Professor give me my first tattoo. He’s given me all of them, actually. I’ve never trusted anyone else to do it.”
“Which one?” Maddox asks.
“The Gemini sign on my lower back. It’s—”
“The twins. Two complete opposites living in one body. The yin and yang.”
Trying to play it off like my stomach isn’t quivering because he knew exactly what it means, I laugh. “You’re usually so damn quiet and now I can’t shut you up. That’s the second time you interrupted me.”
“And I never thought you would be the type to keep avoiding what you’re trying to say. You always say whatever the hell you want, and if you didn’t want to tell me this story, you wouldn’t have started, so do it. What’s up with the Gemini?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise but I ignore them. After sitting up, I pull away from Maddox to see the challenge in his eyes. “I’ve always felt like there are two of me. Getting it tatted made it real. Then I realized not getting it done didn’t make it false either.” Wa
“Because I kept my mouth shut when I should have spoken up, and they got hurt.”
I cross my arms, ru
My eyes continue to study Maddox as he does the same to me, as though we’re picking each other apart and categorizing the other. “You take responsibility for everything that’s gone wrong in your family’s lives, the same way you try to take care of your sister, don’t you?”
I wait for it. Wait for the anger that I know Maddox is capable of. Not violence, because that’s not him, but the anger he feels at the world—the same emotion I see every time I look in the mirror.
“I don’t do this, Bee.” He shakes his head, looks out at the football game again.
My eyes travel the same line of sight as his, watching the game but not taking it in. “Me either…” After taking a couple deep breaths, I continue. “The Professor asked me who did the drawing and I told him I did. He asked if I was lost and I told him I was. I felt like that for years… lost, like I didn’t really know who I was. Then he asked, ‘Wa
It’s almost like this weight lifted off my shoulders to say this to him. My back straightens, pride teasing me and asking for permission in. I decided who I am.
Maddox turns his head in my direction. There’s a relaxed air about him that he doesn’t usually have. With my eyes, I take in the stubble on his jaw and his dark, messy hair. It would really help things if he wasn’t so damn sexy. Keep lyin’ to yourself, Bee. If it was just his looks, you wouldn’t be here right now.
“That takes guts. Not everyone can do that.” He’s staring at me and I’m still staring at him. I can’t keep from thinking about the ring in his nipple and want to run my tongue over it.
Then he reaches toward me. Automatically I flinch and then feel like an idiot. He pauses for a second, touches my hair, and the movement is almost… tender. I’ve slept with Maddox three times. He’s not the only guy I’ve ever been with but that touch—the way he lets my hair almost float and fall from his fingertips—feels like the most intimate moment of my life.
“Who told you who you should be?” Then his hand falls, as does my stomach.
No one, but that doesn’t make it easier. I know who they want me to be and I should love them enough to do it.
“Next question.”
Maddox laughs this rich, throaty sound that makes my insides flip. “No shit. I’m going to use that one from now on.”
“Deal.”
A whistle blows, signaling the football game is over. Time flew by because I didn’t even realize we’d been out here this long. I watch as Maddox stands and then holds out his hand. I surprise myself by letting him help me up. “I’m driving.” I look over my shoulder at him as I walk toward the motorcycle.
He gives another laugh. “Where’d you hide the alcohol because you must be drunk.”
“Asshole.” I shake my head and roll my eyes.