I bit my lip. I blew at being a girl. I just really liked muscle cars.
He softly touched along the hood of the car. “A 396 engine,” he said out loud, peering only at the car. “I think I just fell in love with you.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to the car or me, but we got in before I could give it anymore thought.
“And the girl knows how to work a stick? This night just keeps getting better.”
“In six-inch stilettos,” I added.
He groaned and I giggled, pushing the clutch down, shifting it into first gear. The engine revved, I pushed down the clutch again and switched into second.
I could see him staring at me out the corner of my eye. Once we got on the street, I shifted the car into third and I swear I saw him smile and shake his head.
He reached across the center console and started to lightly skim my thigh, as we drove in comfortable silence. I didn’t live far from the club, so it didn’t take long to get home. I made a quick left and we were pulling in and parking my car in the garage.
I quickly got out before him, needing to get some air. My decision to bring him home with me was purely based on impulse and now I wasn’t sure if I made the right choice.
My heels clicked on the pavement, mimicking the pounding of my heart as we walked toward the door. I pressed the fob against the entry and the door snapped open.
My mind started running wild.
Plaguing questions assaulted my every being till we reached my apartment door. I was about to put in the key, but his hand stopped me. Placing it directly on top of mine.
We locked eyes.
“Relax, Briggs. We’re best friends, remember?”
I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding and he gave me a comforting smile.
“How did you…” I shook my head and opened the door instead of finishing my question.
I set my keys on the island and opened the fridge, grabbing two water bottles and throwing one at him. He caught it midair, even though he was busy, taking in all my surroundings.
My home.
“Quite a place you got here. Apparently, I’m in the wrong business.”
I shrugged mostly because I didn’t want to explain or have to answer questions.
“There’s a bathroom right there.” I pointed next to the closet. “And then the rest is pretty self explanatory. I’m going to take a quick shower. There are towels in that bathroom under the sink if you’d like to take one also. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows when I come out.”
He nodded.
I walked away and could feel him watching my every move until I shut the bathroom door. I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower lost in my own thoughts. I changed into some cotton shorts and a tank top, throwing my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head. I didn’t have a stitch of make-up on.
When I walked out of the bathroom, the smell of smoke instantly assaulted my senses. Tearing away my insecurities of having him see me without my shield of armor on.
The balcony door was open and the light breeze was blowing the curtains. I walked out there, finding Austin leaning forward against the railing, wearing just his black slacks. His shirt, shoes, and socks long gone. A cigarette placed in between his index and middle finger, staring out at the New York skyline.
He appeared as lost as I felt.
I watched from afar for a few minutes, taking in his scars, welcoming the distraction. I desperately wanted to know what happened to him, probably as much as he wanted to know my real name and the meanings of my tattoos.
He was right though.
Every last piece of ink on my body had a reason behind it. Every last piece had a sentiment attached to it. Pieces of my heart and soul were inked on my skin, etched in permanently for everyone to see, but to never know the significance, the meaning.
That was reserved just for me.
When he took a drag of his cigarette and blew it out into the air, I didn’t know if it was the smoke, the fresh clean scent of his shower or just him, but I found myself reaching out to touch the scar right down the center of his back. It was the worst one I’d seen on him so far. The skin was raised and mangled as if glass had torn into him, piece by piece, settling into his skin for hours and becoming apart of him.
He immediately froze the second he felt my touch against it, my presence around him, knowing what I was doing. What I was thinking, the answers to my questions, I sought since the first time I laid my eyes on him. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Every last part of him.
Scars and all.
“Briggs, I—”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted not ready to hear his sad story, knowing that mine would have to follow.