Remember Me This Way Page 6

  I’m just being paranoid, I tell myself. “Keep your eyes out tonight,” I needlessly remind my team, and they all nod, making me feel slightly better.

  By this time, the guys have hustled to catch up with us. Tanner’s scowling at me, Jesse looks worried, and Jensen looks like he’s about to punch someone...most likely Tanner.

  “You’ve got to let me do this,” I tell them, and after what seems like an hour but is most likely just a few seconds, they each reluctantly nod.

  After that, there’s no time to discuss anything because the guys are being swept down the hall for soundcheck since we’re running late. Amberlie and I, along with my security team, are led by a venue employee back to the green room. As I settle down on the couch with Amberlie and we start discussing some of the shows that I’ve seen on the tour, I can’t help but think at how different the room looks from that first one back in South Carolina. There aren’t any strung out groupies hanging out, it doesn’t feel like a party’s about to break out. It feels chill, comfortable...like what I would want a green room to feel like if this was my concert.

  I wonder if the guys hate it.

  Pushing the self-doubt out of my mind, I try and focus on the story that Amberlie is telling. It’s time I stop living in my head so much and concentrate on the present. It’s time I actually start living.

  9

  Then

  Tanner hasn't come to school this week. He hasn't come to band practice, he hasn't answered our calls. I want to go over there, but the guys won’t let me. Jensen and Jesse drove over to Tanner’s house, but Tanner wouldn't let them through the gates, only telling them that he needed a break and he'd see them next week.

  My stomach hurt all week thinking about him all alone in that gigantic house. I still had no idea what was going on behind the scenes with his family, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew it was bad. My stomach continued to hurt all week as I anticipated the worst.

  It wasn't until 11 PM, two days later, that I finally heard from Tanner.

  "I need you," the text read. And even though I had already changed into sleep shorts and a tank top, I quickly pulled on some jeans. "I'm here. Whatever you need," I write back.

  “I'll pick you up at our usual spot,” he responds, since the guys had gotten used to picking me up on the county road outside the trailer park instead of where I lived.

  He's already sitting there when I walk out to the road, and my eyes widen in surprise. Evidently, he was waiting for me. He doesn't get out of the car like usual to open the door, so I hop in, worry churning in my gut. I take a deep inhale in shock. He looks awful. Like he's been on a bender and got into a fight. His beautiful face is mottled with black and blue bruises, and his eyes are bloodshot. There's a cut on his forehead that's been stitched up.

  "Oh, Tanner," I say, tears woven throughout my voice.

  "Don't worry about me, Princess. I'm alright. I’ve just missed you,” he tells me.

  "I’ve missed you too," I tell him, grabbing his hand and holding it to my heart. I kiss his knuckles, noticing that they’re bruised and cracked as well.

  "Want to go somewhere with me?" he asks. And I nod, because I would follow him anywhere. Tanner should know by now that my answer is always yes when it comes to him...when it comes to them in general. We drive to the next town over and stop at a tattoo shop that I've passed before on our way to the lake. It's now midnight, but it looks to be still open.

  "You're getting a tattoo?" I ask.

  He smirks at me, his smile a little bit lopsided due to the swelling on part of his lip. "I just had an idea for a new tattoo. I thought you'd want to come," he tells me with a shrug. Suddenly, his face lights up. "Hey, maybe you can get that tattoo that you told me about," he says excitedly.

  But I'm already shaking my head. "I don't have the money for that right now," I admit to him, even though the idea of getting a tattoo does excite me. There's only one thing that I’ve ever thought I'd be willing to put permanently on my body, and it’s a quote. My favorite quote in the world is "she believed she could, so she did." I've loved that quote long enough, and it has special enough meaning for my dreams for myself, that I know I won't get tired of it if I did ever put it on my body.

  "How about I pay for it as an early birthday present?" he offers. "Come on, Princess. It will be fun to get something done together," he practically begs.

  "My birthday isn’t for six months," I remind him, knowing that he will still get me other presents even if he bought me this right now. I’m always uncomfortable when they spend money on me, because I don't have anything to offer in return.

  "Princess, you have to do it.” The fact that he looks better just thinking about the idea of us getting tattoos together is the only reason that I find myself agreeing to it.

  "Okay," I reluctantly grumble, a small twinge of excitement building up inside me at the thought of doing this. We get out of the car and walk into the tattoo shop. It’s actually quite full, considering the time of night. This must be where Tanner had gotten at least some of his tattoos, because the employees all seem to know him. They also don’t seem perturbed about his injuries, and I’m not sure what that means.

  One guy, a skinny redhead with gauges in both ears and who is covered in brightly colored tattoos, walks over to us. He exchanges that handshake that all guys seem to somehow know with Tanner. "Hey, man, what's up? Haven't seen you in here for a while," he tells Tanner. The redhead looks over at me curiously, wiping his eyes up and down me appreciatively for a second, before turning back to Tanner.

  "Mine," Tanner says casually, but the warning in his voice is easy to hear. I flush. What did that mean, that I was his?

  The redhead holds up his hands in mock defensiveness. "I get it man, but you can't blame me for looking," he says.

  Tanner rolls his eyes. "Princess, this idiot's name is Grant," he tells me. "He's done most of my tattoos."

  "You do great work," I comment lamely, both guys smirking at my awkwardness.

  "What are you looking for today?" Grant asks Tanner when they’re done torturing me.

  "I have a design in mind," Tanner says mysteriously. “But she needs to go first before she chickens out,” he says, pointing at me.

  “You’re getting your first one?” Grant asks, looking like he’s salivating at the thought of it.

  “Apparently,” I murmur, and Grant grins wickedly. “Once you start you won’t be able to stop. It’s an addiction,” he tells me.

  “We’ll see if I can make it through one before we talk about not being able to stop,” I tell him with a laugh.

  Grant leads us to his station, which I’m excited to see is hidden from view of the rest of the shop behind a partition. “I don’t like people watching me work,” he explains as he gestures for me to hop up onto a leather chair that looks vaguely like the kind a dentist uses.

  “Okay, what you got for me?” he asks, staring at me eagerly. I pull up the quote on my phone. I had found a picture on Pinterest a few months ago that had the quote in a font that I really liked.

  “I dig it,” he says. “Email that to me so I can print it out.” After giving me his email address, he wanders off to pick up the picture from the computer in the back.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Tanner says suddenly, looking a little chagrined.

  “I want to,” I tell him honestly. “Sometimes, I just need to be pushed into doing things that I want. It’s hard for me to think I deserve things that I want,” I admit to him, immediately feeling stupid for even saying that.

  “I get that,” he says, staring at me intensely, and I can see that he actually does. “We’re more alike than I first thought, you and I,” he murmurs, looking thoughtful...and conflicted. “What secrets do you have, Ariana Kent?” he asks.

  Before I can utter a response, Grant’s back, waving the paper in front of him like he’s won an award.

  "It's going to look great," he says reassuringly, since I'm sure my face is starting to display the panic
I'm beginning to feel. "So, where are we putting this?" he asks, and my mind goes blank. I immediately think of those grandmas who have made the unfortunate decision when they were younger to put tattoos in places that stretched badly over time. It was not an attractive thing when a rose tattoo ended up resembling a twisted smiley face because the skin had become so wrinkled.

  "Okay, I can give you some advice if you’d like," Grant says when I haven’t come up with anything. I nod eagerly. "Are you wanting to have it where someone can see it all the time, or do you want it easily hidden, like if you have a job that frowns upon tattoos."

  "Hidden," I answer quickly, knowing that I want the option of showing it or not.

  "There's really only one place on a woman's body that doesn't stretch much if they get pregnant or if they just gain weight in general. So, I usually suggest that my female clients put their quote tattoos there, if it's not going someplace like their inner wrist or somewhere like that. Can you lift your arm for me?" he asks.

  I lift my left arm up, and he gently taps the area on my rib cage, about five inches from the bottom of my armpit. "This is where I usually suggest. It's one of the last places that people seem to gain weight, so your tattoo should maintain its shape."

  He was talking about weight and pregnancy an awful lot, but I guess it made sense. A moment of blind panic passes over me as I think about having kids. That was what usually happened to girls who came from my trailer park, though. I knew of at least three from our class that dropped out to have kids just in the past year.

  I shiver at the thought of bringing a child into the hell I called my life.

  "That sounds good," I tell Grant, looking at Tanner to see what he thinks. He actually doesn’t look too happy at the moment.

  "Do you have some sort of blanket she can put over the front of her?” Tanner asks, brushing his hair out of his face with a frown. It’s been a while since he got a haircut.

  Grant smirks at him. "I'm sure we can arrange something like that,” he tells him in a knowing tone. I swear, Tanner growls in response to Grant’s teasing.

  I understand why Tanner was worried when I have to pull up my shirt and unclasp the back of my bra. Grant gives me a blanket to put over the front of me, but it’s still a little bit awkward to have this much skin showing in front of both Grant and Tanner. I’m just grateful that the rest of the shop can’t see me too. Tanner's eyes keep darting to the skin that’s showing, and by the heated look in them, he seems to like the view.

  Grant places the design he printed out on my skin and explains that it would leave an outline on my skin that he will then trace over with the tattoo gun to make sure that the design is perfect when he actually uses the tattoo gun. After doing the trace, I watch as Grant makes the ink. I was just going with black. The font I found was very thin and dainty, and I didn't think that a white tattoo would look very good.

  I start to freak out when he turns the tattoo gun on. It’s so loud that I’m a little afraid that he actually turned on a buzz saw and I’m about to die. Tanner must've seen the beads of sweat that are starting to develop on my forehead, because he walks over and takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  "This is going to look so fucking hot," he tells me reassuringly, his eyes almost ravenous at this point.

  Of course, I blush at that comment.

  It takes a lot for me not to scream when the tattoo gun touches my skin. It feels like I’m being stabbed over and over again, and I can’t believe that people actually get addicted to this sort of thing and want more.

  "You're doing so good, Princess," Tanner says as he avidly watches Grant work.

  Eventually, it stops hurting as much, or my skin just becomes a little numb to the pain. The feeling is almost like I’m having an out of body experience while Grant works, and I’m flying above my body as it happens. Maybe this feeling is what brings people back time and time again.

  The feeling of being free.

  When it’s over, I’m surprised to see that only twenty minutes have passed. "I'm done already?" I ask, and Grant and Tanner both chuckle.

  "Do you want to see it?" Grant asks, and I nod nervously, all of a sudden envisioning a scenario where he actually tattooed something ridiculous on me, like a naked woman or something like that.

  Grant holds up a mirror, and I let out a little squeal. It’s perfect. It’s exactly like the picture I had found, and it was just the right size. I loved it.

  Grant puts some kind of Vaseline type stuff on it and then he tapes it up and gives me the aftercare instructions. And then, it’s Tanner's turn.

  “This one is going on my back, left side,” he says to Grant, winking at me as he does so as if he’s picked the left side to match me. Thinking about it though, I realize that I’ve only seen tattoos on that side. I wonder what that’s all about.

  “Are you okay with being here for awhile, Princess?” Tanner asks, and I nod, ignoring the fact that I have school tomorrow, something I have no plans of skipping since graduation might be my only ticket out of here.

  “I want an angel wing,” he tells Grant. “Something like this,” he says, pulling an image up on his phone and showing him. Grant looks at it admiringly. “That’s going to hurt like a bitch,” he tells him, but Tanner just grins as if the idea of pain delights him.

  “Do you want that exact thing or do you want me to sketch something up?” Grant asks, and Tanner gives him a “what do you think” kind of look.

  Grant rolls his eyes and disappears in the back without another word.

  “I need a smoke,” Tanner says abruptly, and disappears behind the partition.

  Tanner comes back fifteen minutes later smelling of tobacco and him. He looks more relaxed than he did before he left, and I wonder what demon he had to chase out of his head this time.

  Grant’s back shortly after Tanner’s return with the angel wing drawing that Tanner requested. But if it’s an angel wing, it definitely belongs to a fallen one. And it fits Tanner perfectly. Something about the design is dark and broken. This wing wasn’t built from heaven’s light. This wing came from pain. It’s weird how you can see all of that just in a drawing, but the proof is right in front of my face.

  Somehow, it’s not as shocking as it should be when Tanner casually lifts his shirt up, and I see that his back is covered with scars, as if someone’s cut him over and over again until the skin just gave up on the idea of regenerating itself. There’s a fresh set of lashes on the left side that looks like it’s just started to scab over.

  “Holy shit,” Grant spits out, sounding sick at the sight. But Tanner doesn’t pay any attention to his reaction, his focus is on me. There’s a challenge in his gaze, as if he’s daring me to run away at the sight or worse...ask him what happened.

  I keep my face blank, even though I’m crying inside. I’m only faintly aware of Tanner and Grant arguing over the fact that Tanner wants Grant to tattoo over his injured skin. Grant’s either an idiot or he’s just known Tanner long enough to know that he would just go somewhere else to get it done if he has to, because he gives in. Tanner lays down on his stomach, his face turned towards me, and Grant begins.

  “You’re going to have to come in a few days for me to finish this. You know I can’t do it all tonight,” Grant says once he gets going, but Tanner doesn’t respond. Hours pass, and Tanner’s silver gaze doesn’t stray from mine.

  It’s like we’re in our own little world. As the hours pass, Tanner lets me see his pain, and I give him a glimpse of mine. And I know that when we’re done here that something will have irrevocably changed between us. Something that we never will be able to go back from. My heart recognizes him in this moment as someone who can understand me like maybe no one else can.

  His heart calls to me like it has from the beginning, and I’ve never wanted to answer it more.

  Tanner never flinches or shows any sign that he’s experiencing pain, and I guess by his existing injuries, that makes sense. Tanner’s used to physical injur
ies, it’s the emotional ones he has trouble dealing with.

  Grant’s dead on his feet when he’s finally finished, muttering something about Tanner owing him his first born child after this. I can see the pride over his work emanating from him, though. And he should be proud. It’s almost like he’s transformed Tanner over the last few hours, and Tanner has become something bigger...something more.

  Tanner’s lips purse as he examines the tattoo in the mirror, as if he recognizes the change but doesn’t know what to think of it. He’ll have to come in to finish the shading soon but the work that has been done is spectacular.

  Tanner pays and claps Grant on the back before slipping him a tip that makes me almost faint at how much it is.

  We head outside to where the sun is starting to appear in this sky, and I know that I’m going to be exhausted today at school. But I also know that the tiredness will be worth it.

  We drive through a Starbucks before Tanner heads to school, even though we’ve still got an hour before it begins. He parks in the mostly empty parking lot, and then we just stare at each other. When his lips finally meet mine softly, it’s like I’m coming home. His hand moves to my waist, and he pulls me closer while simultaneously coaxing my lips open. I don’t resist, not even for a moment. Before I realize it, my hands find his hair, and I dig my fingers in, keeping him close. His tongue traces the opening of my lips, and his grip tightens on my waist. This kiss is different. It’s just as intoxicating as the others, but it’s different. It’s a sleepy kiss, not a kiss of two people getting to know each other, but rather, a kiss of reverence. The level of feeling in this kiss is deep, heady, and confident. My heart beats double time, and I feel completely and utterly powerless.

  Panic sets in a moment later, and I pull away, resting my forehead on his shoulder. My breathing is urgent and fractured, and I squeeze my eyes shut, suddenly terrified of what it all means. I’ve now kissed Jesse, Jensen, and Tanner. Tanner’s hand runs over my hair and down my back soothingly. What. The. Hell. One tattoo, and my self-control is MIA; I can’t calm down. A million thoughts rush through my head, fighting their way to materialize on my lips. I push them down and pull away from Tanner, giving him what I hope isn’t a shaky smile. “Thank you for last night,” I tell him. His eyes search mine. He knows something just shifted within me but he doesn’t press.