Chapter 30
Cecil went on a girls‘ trip to Puerto Rico this morning and said she would be back in five days, and that wasn’t long enough.
I love Cecil, and she has been there for me through a lot, but some days, I feel suffocated by her presence, which is the last thing I want.
I couldn’t tell her this because the last time I opened up to her about how I felt, she cried for three days and made me feel like a horrible person. It was best to leave her alone and only wish her away
in my mind. It was best for my sanity and her happiness.
“Speak of the devil,” Vivian said after pulling out his vibrating phone. “Hello, babe,” He said and shifted away.
I instructed the bartender to keep it coming while I drowned in my thoughts and sang along with the music playing to distract myself from that cuteness. It must have been longer because I felt a tap on my shoulder, and it was Vivian.
He had a mischievous grin, and I was not too fond of that look.
“Have you ever done something crazy?” he asked, his grin lingering to the point it scared me.
I have. I asked my girlfriend of three months to marry me, but that didn’t end well. The hurt was like none other, and the ache still lingered. I would not recommend it.
“Depends,” I replied after realising he was still waiting for my answer. “What’s up? How is Julie?? And how is her mission in Botswana going?”
His grin lingered. “Good, it’s all good. I’m going to get a poetic tattoo of Julie.” He hiccupped, and just like me, he was already intoxicated by the alcohol in his system. Vivian could never hold his liquor to save his life; it made no sense why he drank at this point.
My eyes narrowed. “You are drunk, and you might not be thinking straight.”
Yes, Julie loved poetry, but being reckless with art and not doing fine work wouldn’t impress her.
I’ve met her, I know.
Julie was a graduate of art, and since her graduation, she has dedicated her time and work to providing aid to third world countries. She used her platform to raise awareness and her art to raise funds for those in need, all geared to making the world a better place.
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Chapter 30
He shook his head, scrolled through his phone, and then showed me the poem, which read.
Just as I am,
Until my last breath,
Loving and cherishing
Illuminated by your light
Earning your love, my forever.
The piece blew me away, and it was indeed beautiful. “Wow.” He had thought about it when he was
sober, and it wasn’t random.
“I know, right?” His grin appeared again, and he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I am a master of science, but for her, I’ll be a poet.”
I gulp my whisky and say, “You really are something.”
He placed his hand on my shoulder, “I know. Come with me,” he said, pulling me along.
I felt a pair of lips on my neck, and it travelled down my shoulders, making me. squirm in bed from pleasure–filled sensations. My lashes fluttered to see red hair that belonged to one.
Cecil. She was back from her holiday in Puerto Rico and didn’t call me to pick her up. She wanted to surprise me, and it was a surprise indeed.
She smiled at me and came up to kiss my lips. I moaned into the kiss and quickly helped her out of her clothes because I wasn’t wearing anything. She pushed me onto my back and began kissing my neck, down my chest, and then down while adjusting herself.
I expected her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, “What the fuck is this?” she demanded.
“What?” I helped myself up, only to find her looking at the tattoo on the left side of my hip that went all the way down my upper thigh. My eyes lit up, “Oh, it is the tattoo I got days ago; you don’t like it?” I slowed down in my words because I saw the look on her face; it was as if she just saw me eating a live baby.
She didn’t reply; instead, she rose from top of me and reached for her clothes on the ground.
What? We aren’t having sex? Because of the tattoo? What is this?
12:52
Love’s Beautiful Mistake.
Chapter 30
“What is it?” I asked as she picked up her bra and put it on. Did she hate tattoos in general? Because she had never said that before, and this outrage was unnecessary. “What is wrong with the tattoo?”
“What is wrong with the tattoo? You are really asking me that.” Her eyes welled up, and she looked hurt. “I can’t believe you are doing this to me after everything I’ve done for you! I thought you loved
me.”
I do love you. What is this about?” I asked, genuinely curious and frustrated at this point.
She brushed the tears that fell away and put on her dress. “It’s about the fucking tattoo you have on your fucking hip, you fucking asshole. If you find no fucking problem with it, then forget about it.”
She walked out of the bedroom and slammed the door.
I sat in bed, completely confused.
It made no sense.
I stripped in front of the mirror and carefully stared at the tattoo on my hip–the one I had thought was a bridge–and there it was, the truth, which I had stared at in the last few days and never saw.
My eyes widened. “Fuck me!”
This was bad; it became clear why Cecil exploded in the manner she did. She probably thinks the
worst of me now.
This tattoo didn’t mean anything, and it was a mistake. If she hadn’t forced me to look at it, I would
never have noticed.
I had to prove to her that I loved her, and there was only one way to do it.
12:52
Love’s Beautiful Mistake
