“What’s the story about your tattoo?” Mallory stepped out of my bathroom wrapped in a small towel that barely covered her body. She walked over to my bed, at the edge of my feet and scanned my naked body until she finally got to my chest. I looked down at the permanent reminder of what I had done, feeling a mixture of love and hate boil through me.

“It’s my mom,” I sighed.

“I figured that much, but why a lion? Is it because Leo means lion?”

I nodded.

“She was my lioness and I was her Leo. Her cub. Her Dandelion.” Mallory smiled at my old nickname. “I got it done in her honor after she passed away.” I stroke my right chest.

Mallory’s smile faded. “You never told me she died.”

“It was fifteen years ago, but I don’t like talking about it.”

“I understand. But why didn’t you place the tattoo on your heart? She obviously means a lot to you.”

Because I don’t deserve her on my heart, but I didn't deserve to forget her either, I thought.

I shrugged. “Didn't think about it at the time.”

Mallory looked at me for a few seconds then dropped her towel and got under the covers like she was ready to knock out.

“What are you doing?” I chuckled.

“Getting comfy,” she snuggled next to me and closed her eyes.

“It’s seven o’clock. We still have to eat dinner and talk about your big project.”

Mallory dug her head under the covers. “I’m starting to think this ‘personal project’ is just an evil plan to get me in bed,” her voice was muffled.

“Let’s go outside on the patio and talk business while I pop a pizza in the oven.”

She moaned and kicked out her legs from the covers, “But it’s so warm here and I have to put on clothes.”

“Grab the covers and let’s go.” I hopped off the bed and headed toward the door.

Her blue eyes peeked from the covers and I knew there was a smile lurking underneath as she watched my naked body.

“You’re going outside naked?”

“My house. My rules. My damn backyard.”

Mallory laughed and hopped off the bed, draping my white sheet around her body. I headed to toward the kitchen until I didn’t hear Mallory from behind. I looked over in the hallway and I found her looking at the only three photos I had hanging in my house. Her smile was happy but her eyes were sad. I sighed and stepped closer to Mallory knowing exactly what she felt so I talked about the three images.

“Kelly’s Garden.” I pointed at the first photo. “It looked almost comical. A small flower shop between two huge buildings. ‘Like something out of a cartoon’ my mom always said,” I laughed.

Mallory’s eyes darted to the second image. My mom had pixie short hair, which was golden blonde with a white streak in the same spot as me. She held a large, overflowing bouquet of daisies in the photo. Her smile was wide and loud and her white top was filled with dirt spots, but she was radiant.

“My dad took the photo. It was right before their first date and he bought out all the daisies in her shop because the only thing he knew about her was that her name was Daisy. She later told me that she couldn't stop laughing in the photo because she actually hated daisies, but enjoyed my dad’s effort.”

“You have the same white streak as her,” she scanned the image then back at me.

“It’s called Poliosis. It’s where you don’t have enough pigment in the skin so when your hair grows, it grows pure white. My mother had it, her father had it, his father before him had it. The first born always gets it.”

“And I thought it was because you were a geezer,” she playfully smirked.

“I’m not that old.”

“Says the thirty-seven-year-old.”

“Well, you don’t seem bothered by it.” I hugged Mallory’s neck and kissed the top of her head.

“That’s ‘cause my parents were twelve years apart. Not to mention my uncle and aunt are seventeen years apart. I kinda grew up with it so I didn’t find it weird.”

Mallory looked at the last picture of me, at the age of three or four digging a hole with the handle of a garden trowel.

“You were a cute kid. What happened?” she giggled as I playfully hugged her neck tighter.

“Why don’t you go outside and see why I commute for so many hours. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Mallory nodded and headed toward the sliding doors with a long train of white fabric following behind her. I took a short glance at my mom and felt my heart ache as it always did when I passed her. I headed for the office to grab my things and went to the kitchen to preheat the oven.

I watched Mallory through the sliding door; she was standing at the edge of the patio looking out at the garden again. The patio string lights hit her in a way that made her gleam like sunshine, pink sunshine. Her hair blended perfectly with the soft pink ranunculus’ in the far end of the corner of the yard that she strongly resembled. Full, round and plump with many layers of petals.

She was gorgeous in every way and made me feel alive — which I hadn't felt in years. She didn't feel like a high anymore, because the feeling of being with her lasted forever. It wasn’t a jump off the ground: it was a leap from the sky where gravity had no effect. She brought me happiness and joy and hope. Most importantly hope.

Mallory moved over to the couch and I popped the pizza in and headed outside with my sketchbooks.

“I understand why you don't want to move closer to work.” Mallory looked up at my soft cock and blushed.

“What? It’s not like you haven't seen it before,” I sat next to her as she covered me up with the sheet.

“I didn’t think you would come out buck naked. What if the neighbors see you?” She looked around the fence and noticed there were no houses tall enough to peek into my backyard.

“They can’t see me or you,” I smirked.

She blushed and noticed the sketchbooks I brought over. “Is that the new project?”

I nodded and opened the first notebook, revealing a detailed drawing of a geometric zebra I drew over ten years ago.

“Basically, I want to turn my mom's old flower shop into a tattoo shop when I get it. So, I’ll need your help with designing the logo for the shop —”

She took the sketchbook out of my hand and shut me up. “You’re amazing. Really amazing ...” there was a pause when she skipped to the next drawing “… but I’m confused. You’re a lawyer, a CEO to be more exact, but you want to open a tattoo shop to be an artist?” She looked up at me wanting an explanation.

“Being a lawyer was not my choice and being a florist isn’t my life's passion. As much as I enjoy it as a hobby, that’s all it’ll be. But I have always enjoyed drawing since it was a stress reliever when I was feeling down. After I got my first tattoo, I thought about doing it for a while. A very long while.”

She flipped through the pages filled with black and white inked drawings until she stopped at a lioness with flowers. “You drew your tattoo …” she looked at the back of the page. “Ten years ago?”

“Yeah, and I redrew it over and over and over again until I got it right.” Mallory flipped through the next couple of sheets and looked at the small revisions I made to perfect for my mother’s tattoo.

It was quiet as she flipped through the drawings and noticed the small words and letters I wrote next to the date: H, M, C, Molly, shrooms, and LSD.

“It wasn’t just alcohol you haven’t had in years, was it?” Mallory looked at me with a concerned look.

I spread my arms across the back of the couch and slouched a little as I kept my eyes on the weird, distorted monster I drew that resembled a businessman in a suit with a venus flytrap head. I had completely forgotten that I had written the drug I was on when I drew the images.

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of in my past and it’s something I didn’t want you to know,” I sighed, taking the sketchbook out of her hand to close it.

“Why not?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, almost tasting blood in my mouth while my heart raced so hard it felt dangerous. Mallory looked at me for a few seconds but I didn’t look at her. I didn’t want her to know this about me and so Mallory responded by moving the sketchbook out of my lap and crawling on top of me to give me a tight hug around my neck. Her bare chest pressing against me and the scent of her sweet hair filled up my lungs. I hugged her tight feeling her soft body in my grasp as she made my heart slow down.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was twelve. They were coming home from a party late one night, when a drunk driver crashed into them after he failed to stop at a red light. They both died on impact. The last thing my dad told me was, ‘Don’t be afraid, my Pink Star,’ because it was the first time I didn’t have a babysitter.”

Mallory’s voice was weak and frail, and she choked on her words.

“I had my first cigarette a week after their funeral when I stole it out of my uncle's pocket. He found out quickly, but he never screamed or raised his voice or grounded me. He just told me he would stop smoking if I did, and I agreed. It worked for a long time until I seventeen and my first boyfriend dumped me. Then my second boyfriend dumped me and my third. I’ve smoked four times since I made the deal with my uncle and I only smoke when I need a break for a minute or two. But I always pick myself up, because I know it’s not good for me and mostly because my parents would kill me,” she sniffed and giggled as she wiped away a tear. “Sometimes people have to fall to get back up. And sometimes I trip, but I always come back up.”

I hugged her tighter, knowing that one of those cigarettes was for me. “Sorry I made you trip.”

“At least you helped me get back up,” Mallory’s sweet voice coated me in sanity as she kissed the top of my forehead. “But just so you know. You only get one cigarette.”

“One cigarette is all I need.” I kissed her lips and went back to the sketchbooks.

I loved that she didn't pry information out of me even though she had a multiple questions on her mind. Mallory knew I wasn’t ready to talk right, maybe I would soon, but not right now.

I didn’t want to ruin this moment.