Sinfully Imperfect

40. Secret Behind Ink & Encounter Thru Words

Later that day, I was lying in bed, surfing through Instagram and Uni's forum. Pictures from Uni Day were still exploding everywhere. Especially Senior Aylwin's song, which was an unexpected performance. Without a doubt, Uni Day was a rousing success. For several weeks, it was the talk of the town. 

My gaze strayed upon none other than the guy who was ruling hundreds of hearts at the moment. And I was ruling his. 

He approached me, clad in a white sleeveless tee and black slacks. His hair was disheveled and somewhat damp from the shower. The fabric adhered to his body like a sheath of second skin. He made himself at ease next to me, handing me a cup of steaming coffee as I thanked him. 

"Ethel called." He began, "He'd be staying at Charlotte's tonight."

"Oh." That was all I could muster. My thoughts were racing. I had a plethora of questions to ask him. The questions that needed to be asked right away.

"Ask away, Fresher." His rich voice drew me back in. His minty breath was fanning around my neck as I felt his fingers slowly stroking my nape. The hairs on my skin buzzed with the sudden gesture. The toe-curling sensation left me hot and bothered, wanting the essence to last for eternity.

At that point, the fact wasn't startling to me; rather, I'd say, it was gratifying and heartening to know that someone was aware of my worries, even in my serene silence.

I dropped the first question bomb at him, "Who are Jennifer and Lance Eldred?" 

I anticipated a reaction from him. At the very least, a dilation of the pupils or a change in facial expression, but alas! It was all for naught. He remained the same. Passive with a poker face. As though he was cognizant of my question. He knew that I'd definitely ask him. And, to be honest, I would have undoubtedly inquired about the truth behind those names. However, we were both in the heat of the moment last night, which wasn't the ideal time for such matters.

Just near his heart was a tattoo of two magnificent feathers, nurtured in the nostalgic hues of baby purple with a scarlet undertone, as they curled around the ridges of his chest temptingly, guarding a name, "Lance Eldred," inked with a precise date in the rage of red hues. It looked painful and vicious, but most crucially, concealed within the curtains of confinement. 

Another tattoo of a dancing girl with petal-like layers floating about her frame was embellished in the darkness of black ink seeping into his white tanned skin with the name "Jennifer" engraved along with something in Arabic calligraphy.

"Jennifer Eldred is my mother." Just then, I realized that I didn't know anything about his family. I'd been too busy with my own life to even ask him about his.

'Is.' I heaved a sigh of relief. 

"What do the Arabic texts near her name mean?" 

He exhaled softly, whispering ever so delicately, as though being carried away by the tides of nostalgia. "Broken beauty."

"Broken beauty? Why did ya give her that title? " I rested my head on his shoulder, our fingers intertwined. Soft calloused fingers clasped tiny-dainty ones. His thumb gingerly stroked my fingers. A devious game of pleasure and patience. 

"My mother hailed from a very conservative family, where at each and every step it was about rules and regulations. Being the eldest and only daughter, she had to abide by everyone's words and go on with that. She was never given her own choices. Under the shade of responsibilities and her own ambitions, she was crumpled by societal thoughts. " I straightened up, firmly gazing at him. His expression did not waver a bit. Voice still intact.