Tyson had graduated the year before, but he hadn’t gone to college, even though my parents offered to pay for everything. My dad pushed for a prestigious art school in Atlanta, but Tyson gratefully refused. Instead, he’d gone to work before he even graduated high school, filling his days after school with motor oil and exhaust working on cars at a local garage.
A few of the guys he worked with at the garage also worked at a local tattoo parlor called The Blind Tiger, and once they got to know him, he became their apprentice of sorts. He learned his way around a tattoo gun while sweeping up their shop at night after slinging tires and changing out spark plugs after school. He’d come home exhausted, shower, and then crash. I rarely saw him once he started working, and I hated it.
The money was good at the garage, and it wasn’t long before he moved out of our house and into an apartment down the road from our neighborhood. Still, my parents had instilled enough respect in him over his six years living with us that he knew Sunday dinners were mandatory. And every time we sat down for our family dinner, he was across the table from me, touching me with his eyes and leaving me breathless.
Once he moved out, I spent the whole week anticipating that one meal. His leaving our home was hard on me, and somehow, Sunday became a day of relief. Seeing him made everything better, but going to school in New York meant no more family dinners.
No more innocent glances across the table over meatloaf and mashed potatoes. No more brushing by him in the kitchen while we cleaned the dinner dishes and catching the faint scent of his cologne mixed with motor oil. It sickened me to know how much I was going to miss a boy who didn’t seem all that concerned with seeing me much.
“It’s not safe, Nicole. Not for a girl like you.”
Tossing my favorite shorts into the piling suitcase, I turned with my hands on my hips.
“A girl like me? What exactly makes me so different from every other girl who leaves home and goes to college?” Anger rushed over my cheeks, heating them.
I usually didn’t mind his overprotective ways, but he was suddenly making me feel like a child—like I wasn’t just a year younger than he was. He was treating me as if I wasn’t old enough to live on my own—like I wasn’t strong enough to be on my own the way he was.
I didn’t want him looking at me like young Nikki, the little girl he grew up with. I wanted him to put me on his level because without him seeing me as the woman I was blooming into, I knew I’d never get the more I so desperately longed for from Tyson.
He sighed in aggravation and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re taking it the wrong way.”
“Am I? Then would you like to elaborate? Explain to me why it’s safe for every other eighteen-year-old to go off to college, but it’s not safe for me. Do you think I’m stupid, Tyson? Do you think I don’t know how to take care of myself?”
“Jesus,” he growled, running his long fingers through his hair the way he did when he was aggravated. “That’s not what I meant, Nicole. I just don’t understand why you had to pick a school so far away when there are plenty of good ones right here in Charleston.”
“Julliard’s my dream, Ty. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
But you’re my dream, too.
The words whispered through my mind.
He nodded. “I know you love dancing, and you’re amazing at it. It’s just ...” He stopped, his fingers going through his thick hair once more. My body was warming with his words. It wasn’t often Tyson complimented anyone, much less me.
Then he spoke again, begging with his words.
“Don’t go,” he said so softly I almost didn’t hear him.
The room grew thick and warm. Whenever Tyson showed even the smallest amount of emotion toward me, something happened inside. Something light and happy. Something that longed for all the things I’d spent the last seven years of my life dreaming of.
Tyson cared for me. He’d never admit it, but I could feel it. It lurked just beneath his moody outer layer, but it was there. It was the same yearning I’d felt over the years.
Moving across the room toward him, I saw his body stiffen as I approached. His response to my potential touch hurt my feelings, but I tried my hardest to understand his reasons. Even if I didn’t know the details of his past, I knew it must have been pretty serious.
My arm brushed against his when I closed the door to my room with a click. There were things I needed to say, and the last thing I wanted was for my family to hear.
Tyson didn’t move, but a scarlet flush filled his dark cheeks. His black eyes glittered down at me with a ferocity that I’d never had directed my way before. Only the boys at school who attempted to date me or were hurtful to me in any way had received the expression he was showering me with right now.
“What’s the real reason you want me to stay, Tyson?” I asked, knowing he’d never give me the answer I desired.
His shoulders squared, and his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. “What do you mean? I told you, it’s not safe for you to be there alone.”
I shook my head and strands of my blond hair fell from my messy bun. “I’ll be perfectly safe there, and you know it. Dad would never send me somewhere unsafe. Plus, the school has all kinds of safety measures put into place for students. With my schedule, I won’t have any time to get into trouble anyway.”
He swallowed, his thick throat working up and down and making my mouth water to taste the dark skin above his collar.
“There are plenty of schools here,” he repeated his argument.
“I understand that, but I want Juilliard. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get accepted?” I moved closer, as if I were approaching a rabid pit bull. Then I went for it. I let my fingers brush his forearm, prompting him to pull his arm away. “I can’t let this opportunity pass, but I’ll come back to you, Tyson. I promise.”
He practically leaped away from me, his fingers once again getting lost in his dark strands.
“This has nothing to do with me.” He chuckled sarcastically as if my words were far off from their target. “I’m just saying I’d hate to see you run off to a big city and get yourself killed. It would destroy your mom and dad.”
I felt tears rush to my eyes with his hardhearted words. He cared about me, but he’d always met my feelings with resistance. I wasn’t sure what made me think it would be any different now. Maybe because I was leaving for New York. Maybe because in a way, this was our goodbye, and I knew it would be months before I had to face him again.
All I wanted was for him to admit just once that he cared about me. Just once, I wanted him to treat me as something more than Mr. and Mrs. Palmer’s daughter—a fragile being he felt the need to protect. Just once, I wanted him to treat me the way he treated other girls.