This Heart of Mine

Ch. 24: Prequel to the Drunk

After changing into a loose maroon top and leggings, Naina locked her bedroom and waited for Ian to pull his car around. The dusk  sun painted orange and pink across the clouds, despite the darkness seeping in in the corners of the horizon.

The car was still as clean as she remembered it. It also smelled like his regular cologne.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Deme's." It'd be the best and safest spot for her to grab a drink; plus, Deme knew her preferences.

"You sure you're alright with that? Remember, I'm treating you; you're not paying anything."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He'd changed into a black polo and khaki slacks. The huge rose peeked from beneath the sleeve of his right arm every time he shifted his hands on the wheel.

Instinctively, her foot started tapping against the plastic mats. What could she talk about? She liked the silence when she was around him, but did he think of her as weird for doing so? What about her top? It pinched around her middle, but she worried it'd show her fat rolls. Maybe she should've gone with a looser, bigger top.

"Nice tattoos," she blurted out.

Yes, she'd been thinking about his artwork, wondering why a company executive would have them, but why did that have to be the first thing out of her mouth? As he smiled, she tried to cover herself up and kept babbling. "I mean, they look pretty cool. I'd wanted to ask you about them since the first time I saw them, but, like, things got busy and—"

"Thank you for the compliment," he said. A small laugh escaped from his mouth and she turned to him, only to find the biggest smile on his face. "What'd you want to ask about them?"

"Did it hurt?"

He shook his head and let out a deep sigh. "Everyone asks that. Yes, it does. Though probably not as much as you'd think; I mean, you've got a needle pricking your skin, what do people think happens? But everyone's got different pain thresholds. I didn't really mind it."

He continued speaking after taking a breath. "No, they don't mean anything significant; I just thought they looked cool."

"Wow, you sounded like you were prepared for that question." She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Well, yeah, everyone asks, 'Oh does it mean something?'. No, it doesn't. I just thought it looked cool. Worse are the assholes who give me lectures for being a devil-child and having them."

"I mean, some people think that anyone who's got tattoos are punks so—"

He cut her off. "Which pisses me off. Like why? Some people I know, who've got them, are the sweetest people on the planet. Have you got any?"

She nodded absentmindedly before remembering his question. "Um, tattoos or people who've told me they're the devil's work?"

He rolled his eyes and actually took them off of the road to look at her. "Tattoos. Geez Naina, you really read into things too much."

"It's a curse. And no, never got any. I just think they're cool."

Oh right. This was supposed to be a date, because she remembered him saying it was. How had she forgotten? Or maybe he forgot that it was a date and thought that they were hanging out as friends. They were friends right? The thoughts scratched the back of her brain like a squirrel burying a nut.

She thought about anything but the things her anxiety nagged her with. The way his hair was styled, the cool breeze floating from outside, and the puppies waiting for her, probably snoozing away near Burrito's side.