You're to Blame(44)

I turn to face her. Please listen to what I’m saying. “No one should ever pay you such a meaningless compliment. Pretty doesn’t do a girl like you justice.”

The leather cushions her head, cupping her in the soft material. Her breaths are shallow. She’s affected by me, and as fucked up as it is, her being Jacob’s girl, I am thirsty for the reaction my presence brings out in her.

“Jacob calls me pretty all the time.” Her smile flattens, and a tortured gloss glints in her eyes.

“Pretty is what you call the girl you like, but you know nothing will come of it. Women have been trained to take it as a compliment. Depending on who it’s coming from, I suppose it could be. But if you’re truly enamored with someone, you don’t go with easy.” I’ve never been more aware of her closeness.

Charlotte shifts, leaning in close. “Okay, so what do you call the girl who takes your breath away, the one who makes you stop and think ‘Fuck, this girl is it.’?” Her lips part, and I imagine running my thumb across them.

“You’re imposing.” I focus my attention forward, afraid of what it will mean to say these things and read her response in her eyes. “You waltz into a room and command all our attention, all of my attention.”

A subtle breath releases slowly beside me. Charlotte stands, her hand held out in invitation. I place mine in hers, and she pulls me from the couch.

“This one is it, right?” I gesture to the brown leather couch, hoping she’ll forget what I said.

“Not going to try out any others?”

“When you know, you know.” Neither of us miss the hidden meaning behind my words. Charlotte’s throat bobs up and down. She hears them loud and clear.

Towards the front of the main showroom, I tell an older gentleman which couch I’d like, and he writes me up a receipt.

Halfway across the store, Charlotte lies on a display mattress, her eyes focused on the ceiling. Her arms lay limply beside her, and her chest still rises and falls with uncontrollable breaths.

Neither of us say anything when I slide in beside her. Sometimes the silence between two people is louder than any words can be.

“I can feel you thinking.” My stomach knots. We’ve been dancing around each other, showing a mere sliver of our attraction, and now, I wonder if I’ve taken it too far. Have I shown her too much of myself?

“You can?” She looks at me, and her soft, blue eyes beg me to listen, to look past what I think I know, and see the truth. I turn away out of my own insecurities and fears.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. There are thirty speckled tiles right above us. The information is pointless, but nonetheless, counting is a good distraction from the beauty lying next to me.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly? Your tattoos.” She comes to her knees and holds my wrist in her hand.

The moment her fingertips trace the intricate designs, an inner battle I’m familiar with prepares to wage war. I’d erase every passing thought of Jacob from her mind if she’d let me.

“What do they mean to you?”

“A lot of things.” I need her to stop looking at me like I’m worth a chance. “Each one exposes a piece of me to anyone who dares to look close enough.”

“What about this one?” Her fingers dance around the tail of my first tattoo.

“A phoenix. Proof you can rise up, even past the ugliest points.” Fuck, maybe one will rise up right now and eat me whole.

“And this one?” Her touch rests on my anchor.

A chill runs the length of my body. I need out of this bed before I follow through with eliminating Jacob from her head.

“A reminder I can stay in one place, or I can sail.”

“I’ve always wanted to get one,” Charlotte admits. Her chin tips slowly to her chest and tears fill her eyes. As the first one falls, I sit up.

“What’s going on?” I brush my finger on the edge of her eyelid. Her shoulders slump forward, and she shakes her head.

“I’ve missed out on a lot.” Who knew five words would come as such a relief to her?

“What do you mean?” Duke to the rescue, always thinking you can solve this girl’s problems.

“Don’t you ever wonder what your world would look like if you’d made different choices?”

“All the damn time, Charlotte, and you aren’t the first or the last. Hell, I’ve made some pretty fucked up ones in my past. It’s all about learning that those choices brought you to where you were meant to end up.”

“What’s a decision you regret?”

“Oh shit, this is easy. When I was in high school, I got caught dealing a little bit of weed.”

“You were a drug dealer?”

“Not exactly.” I lay back down on the mattress and stare at those speckled tiles. “My father bailed me out and forced me to do a hundred hours of community service.” Charlotte’s brow furrows, not quite understanding where this is headed. “The thing is, if I could go back, I’d face the judge before I ever allowed my father to use his name to get me out of trouble. He still holds it over my fucking head.”

“Your relationship is strained.” Charlotte’s discomfort shines bright in her tight smile. She, much like most people, doesn’t know what to say of my situation.