Weak | S.R

Allie

When my alarm goes off, my head is pounding worse than I've ever felt it pound before. The light that pours in from the windows seems to make the headache worse and I pull the blanket over my head, letting out a groan.

When my wrist brushes against the blanket, though, I feel a slight sting. What the fuck is that?

I sit up and push the fabric off of me, looking down at the outside of my wrist and seeing something that definitely wasn't there before.

'Spencer' is tattooed in pretty script, sealed underneath a saniderm bandage.

When the fuck did I get that?

More importantly, where the fuck is the dude that I got it for? The bed is empty except for me.

I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, hearing the shower running.

"Spencer?" I ask as I open up the door to the bathroom and step inside.

The shower door opens and the boy pops his head out. "You're up. Please get in here with me."

I strip my clothes and step into the shower with him.

"Please tell me that you remember last night," He says as he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight.

Last night...

It's blurry, but... I remember a lot of it. I don't remember the tattoo, though.

"I just don't remember this," I tell him as I pull away, holding out my left arm and showing off the new tattoo that sits just above my hand. "The rest is kind of fuzzy, but... I remember. Just don't remember getting tattooed."

"Neither do I. We must have done that when we were really out of it," He sighs.

Wait.

"Did you say 'we'? As in—"

Before I can even get anything else out, Spencer takes a step back and looks down, pointing to his right hip. "Look."

Oh, my god.

A saniderm bandage covers a tattoo in the same font as mine that reads 'Alexandria'. On the front of his fucking hip.

"Holy shit," I look back up at him. "Dude, that's for life! Are you gonna get it removed?"

Spencer frowns at me. "Why? Are you gonna get yours removed?"

I look down at mine. I do really like it, even though I don't remember getting it.

"No," I shake my head. "But no hard feelings if you want yours removed! It doesn't mean you love me any less."

He just laughs and shakes his head. "I don't know. I kind of like it. Honestly, I never thought I'd get a tattoo."

"Yeah?"

The boy shrugs. "I mean," He reaches for a bottle of shampoo and gestures for me to turn around. Once I do, he continues. "I'm thirty-seven. If I wanted one, I would have gotten it already. I'm too picky to risk it."

He starts shampooing my hair and I ask him how his head feels.

"Not too bad. I drank less than you did, though. You're really terrible at that coin game," Spencer chuckles. "How is your head?"

"I feel like a moth that keeps smacking its head against a street lamp," A laugh escapes my lips just before a satisfied moan. His fingers massaging shampoo into my scalp feels nicer than it's ever felt. "But this is helping a lot. I'll get you next."

"No, baby, I already did mine. Thank you, though."

Spencer presses a kiss to my shoulder before switching the handheld sprayer on to rinse my hair out. He makes me turn around and look up so that soap doesn't get into my eyes as he rinses.