Tattoo
*Kayla*
November 26, 2015
Water gathers in Kyle’s eyes as he stares at his mother, who is only sitting a few feet away from him. Small tremors shake through his body as he holds back sobs. I’ve never seen anything so heart wrenching in my life.
A boy who so desperately wishes to be in his mother’s embrace once more, however impossible it may be. The truth has a cold and bitter sting.
We have to get him upstairs. I don’t know how much time we have with him today, and Dallas and I can’t continue to stand at the bottom of the stairs. Our parents will begin to wonder.
“Dallas, can you grab some printer paper?” I ask, pointing to the printer in the living room, which is across the hall from the stairs. Dallas spins on his heels, briskly walks over, and grabs all the paper in the printer. He holds his hand out as he walks back, as if silently asking if that is enough.
The stack successfully hits Kyle in the head as Dallas passes, causing Kyle to jump at the impact and look over at us with wide eyes. “What?” he snaps, frowning. Dallas nods up the stairs, and I turn around, taking the stairs two at a time. I jog to my bedroom door, hearing the patter of their footsteps behind me.
I open the door and allow Dallas and Kyle to enter first before I follow and pull it closed behind me. Letting out a sigh, I lean against the wall and dip my head. Dallas slaps the stack of papers on my desk before he turns to Kyle.
“She looks good,” Kyle whispers, his eyes downcast. I side glance at Dallas to see him frowning.
“I’m sorry, Ky,” he says, his voice soft and comforting. Kyle shrugs his shoulders and walks over to sit at my desk chair.
“Happy Thanksgiving, guys,” Kyle mutters, his voice stoic, lacking emotion.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Kyle,” Dallas and I say in unison.
I wring my fingers together as silence surrounds us. I don’t want to sadden the boy any further. Perhaps we can dismiss talk of the murderer for today. We can just enjoy each other’s presence.
“He has a tattoo,” Kyle mutters, staring intently at my carpeted floor. I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth and go about chewing it. “Inside of his right wrist. I remember it from that night.”
Kyle shudders as he relives the moment he was killed, the man pulling the gun on him. So he’s right handed and has a tattoo. I’m not going to ask what it is. I decide that I am not going to ask anything.
I’m sure Dallas is thinking the same, for he is silent as well.
“It’s a heart with a heart rate line going through it,” Kyle continues and brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “He’s dark skinned. Perhaps from being in the sun too much. From what I could tell, he was stocky.”
I scrunch my lips to the side, trying to recall someone who fits that description. But I am antisocial. I always sat in the back of the class with my nose in a book. I hardly notice the people around me. If anyone would know that man, it’d be Dallas.
Looking over at Dallas, I see he’s already staring at me, trying to find reassurance that I’d know the man.
I let out a sigh and return my attention to Kyle.
“That’s all I can tell you about him. I can’t say anymore,” he says. I really wanted to know why he can’t. What is keeping him from just flat out telling us a name? “Are you guys, like, a couple now?” He waves his hand between Dallas and me.
“Um…” I start.
“Yes,” Dallas intervenes, looking over at me with scrutinizing eyes. “That is, only if Kayla will have me.”
I notice, for the first time in the few months that I’ve known Dallas, a blush tinting his cheeks. I have to admit, it’s actually really cute.
I guess I now understand why he calls my shyness adorable.
“Um…girlfriend, boyfriend? I mean, me be your girlfriend?” I stumble over my words, pointing back and forth between us.
Dallas smirks, and I’m eager to slap it off his handsome face. That smirk is so frustrating, knowing he’s teasing me again over how shy and innocent I am.
Dallas nods his head, and I look over to Kyle to see him smiling widely. When he notices my eyes on him, he nods his head so quickly it rivals a bobblehead. I laugh.
“All right. If you’re sure you want me.” Dallas rolls his eyes, and I feel butterflies form in my stomach.
Did that really just happen?
“It’s finally official. I can now formally say I was right,” Kyle says, crossing his arms over his chest, quirking a brow. I chuckle and walk over to wrap my arms around him in a hug. He pulls me tight, giving me a breath-halting squeeze.
“You were right, Ky.” Dallas gets to his feet, and I move aside so he can hug his brother now. “I just wish I noticed sooner.”
“Don’t dwell in the past, Dallyboy. Just be thankful of what you have in the present.” Kyle’s words are wise and what everyone should go by.
We all sulk over what we don’t have, and in the process, we are blinded to what we do have.
Dallyboy. I remember Kyle calling him that a few times after tutoring sessions. What a cute name.
“I have to go. Happy Thanksgiving. I love you guys.”
“I love you,” Dallas and I say just as he evaporates before us.
Just as every time he leaves, a sadness overwhelms me. I turn to Dallas, and he frowns down at me. Reaching out, Dallas grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to his chest, tucking me under his chin.
Just like at the beach.
I smile softly at the memory of jet skiing. It was truly a wonderful day.
I pull away from Dallas and flop down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. “We’ll have to keep our eyes open for anyone fitting the murderer’s description.”
Dallas grunts in reply. “It doesn’t even sound familiar. The tattoo, I mean. I thought Kyle said we know him?” I twist so I am lying sideways and look up at Dallas. His arms are crossed over his chest, his beautiful blue eyes swimming with confusion.
“Perhaps we do. We just don’t know it.” Dallas sighs and then heads over to lay beside me, gazing up at my fan. I drop my head onto my arm, watching him. Dallas’ features are so soft. His hair has a gentle wave, since it’s grown back now. His eyes are delicate, his skin smooth. His nose has the perfect curve; his jaw is angular. The only rough part about him is his blond facial hair. It’s subtle but very masculine, making him look older than he is.
Dallas turns his head to look back at me, and I blush, knowing that I’ve been caught. I remember the last time I was caught admiring his appearance. It was not pleasant.
“Are you done?” he snaps.
I shiver at the memory and frown. What a different man he was. I can’t imagine Dallas snapping at me now.
“What’s wrong?” Dallas asks, concerned. I meet his eyes again. Hazel to blue.
“Nothing. Just remembering the time I was caught staring at you, that Saturday before,” I admit, not wanting to lie. Dallas seems a little confused before his eyes widen with recognition and then shame. He reaches over and brushes his knuckles along my cheekbone.
“I was so awful to you.” His voice is small. “I’m so sorry, Kayla.” I shrug my shoulders and offer him a smile, trying to reassure him.
It really doesn’t bother me now. It seems like a different life.
“It’s okay, Dallas. That’s not who you are now.”
“Is it not?”
“No.” I move closer to him, our foreheads nearly touching as I run my fingers through his hair. “No, it is not.” My voice is firm and promising. No matter what anyone says, Dallas is not who he used to be. I can see it in his eyes. They have never been so soft and tender. To anyone, not even Kyle.
And now, he holds so much love and kindness in them. It’s as if Kyle’s death opened up a whole new perspective of life to him. Does Dallas really want to be the playboy who sleeps with numerous girls? Or does he want to actually enjoy life in its purest of ways? Love is a fragile and wonderful emotion. I hope that one day Dallas will experience the full extent of loving someone.
I know he will.
No matter what, I know Dallas doesn’t want to go back. His old life was meaningless and cold. He pushed away everyone, sacrificing his relationships with his mother and Kyle.
So, no. He is most definitely not the same.
“I was thinking of making apple pie with my mom.”
I smile, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “I like who you are now,” I say, placing a hand on his exposed cheek that I just kissed. Dallas smirks and turns his head to place a kiss to the inside of my palm.
“I never told you how beautiful you look right now.” I want to snort.
Beautiful is too grand a word for me. It’s best suited for Ashley.
Ashley always dresses like this. Always wears dresses and skirts, high heels and boots. Always slathered perfectly with makeup, her hair styled every day. She wears beautiful jewelry.
Her style is beautiful. It’s what guys typically prefer, not that I blame them.
“It’s better than the sweatshirts I always wear, huh?” I ask, looking down at my green sweater dress. I do have to admit how pretty it is. And it’s comfortable.
Perhaps this dress is an exception.
“Actually, no.” Dallas’ response catches me off guard, causing my eyes to snap back up to meet his. He smiles at my reaction. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful right now. But you’re stunning when you’re in your comfort zone. I love when your hair is in that messy ponytail. I love that Cubs sweatshirt that is nearly two sizes too big for you. I love those faded jeans and your Chuck Taylors. I love that you play basketball and that you can very well kick my ass. I most definitely prefer your style over anyone else’s. That is a promise, Kayla.”
I stare at Dallas throughout his whole confession, my mouth open in awe.
Was any of this real? Did he really ask me to be his girlfriend? Did he really admit to liking my style above Ashley’s?
Before I can stop myself, I practically shoot forward and attack his face. Or I’m sure that’s what he assumes I’m doing.
I kiss Dallas with so much emotion behind it that I feel as if I am on the verge of crying. No one has ever said anything like that to me before, and it was raw and honest. He meant every word.
Dallas grabs my hips in his hands and gives me a squeeze as he pulls me closer and kisses me back with just as much fervor. I reach up to slide my fingers into his soft hair, closing them around the thick locks.
This is my second kiss, and I’d like to believe that I’m doing much better than my first.
When Dallas’s tongue gently slides across my bottom lip, I lose my breath and pull away, ducking my head down in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he whispers in my ear, kissing the back of my head. His arms coil around my back, refusing to let me go as he holds me close.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finally looking up at him, though I’m blushing a bright red. Dallas retracts an arm to rub the back of his hand across my burning cheek. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”
Dallas lets out a barking laugh as he throws his head back in amusement. I frown, wondering why he’s laughing at me. I really am sorry. I probably scared him for a moment until he realized that I was kissing him.
“I never want you to be sorry for kissing me, Kayla. Ever.” Sighing, I duck my head down, embarrassed again as I press my face against his chest in hope of hiding from him. Dallas brushes hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. His touch is so soft, it sends chills up my arms and down my legs.
This stupid sweater dress is failing to keep the chills at bay.
“I enjoyed it,” Dallas whispers, his lips right at my ear. His breath tickles, and I smile into his tie.
“Okay,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say.
You’d think with all the romance books I read that I’d be more comfortable than this.