Repeat - Kylie Scott Page 0,69
silent for a long time, the sound of the tattoo gun the only noise. “For me, it’s more than just thinking about the person all the time, wanting to get into their pants.”
“I’d hope so.”
“But don’t kid yourself, that’s part of it as well.”
I just smile.
“It’s wanting to know what they’re thinking, how they’re feeling. Just keeping an eye on them and checking they’re okay. Because if they’re not okay, you want to fix it. Make life smoother for them. Put a smile on their face.”
“That makes sense.”
“The first stage is like, whenever you see them or hear their voice or hell . . . even just when someone says their name, it kind of causes this response in you. This automatic physical, mental, and emotional response. It makes you happy. It’s exhilarating,” he explains. Though I’m already familiar with stage one. Not that this is necessarily the right time to enlighten him as to this fact. “Then that grows into something more. Like, putting them and their needs first most of the time just starts to come naturally. You make what changes are necessary to fit your lives together because it’s the right thing for both of you. Early on, their little quirks, idiosyncrasies, and shit like that are kind of cute and amusing.”
“Let me guess, that doesn’t last?”
The edge of his mouth moves upwards. “No, it doesn’t. But you accept most of these things as being a part of them.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
“Exactly.”
“You keep using the word most,” I say. “Most of the time. Most of these things.”
“If you’re going to meld two lives together, there’s got to be some willingness to change on both sides. You both have to want it equally. A big part of making it work is your willingness to compromise. Some things just are deal breakers. But mostly you accept and respect the person for who they are and they accept you.”
I nod.
“What love means is probably pretty different for everyone, though. I feel like I only gave you a mechanical rundown. But there’s all of the emotion behind it too.”
“And you loved me.” Just the thought of it staggers me. So maybe Frances is right about me putting him on a pedestal. Though I don’t think I’m blind to the idea of him having flaws. We all have flaws. It’s like he said about being willing to overlook certain things and work on others. Becoming a real live functioning couple sounds as difficult as I’d suspected. And despite us quasi-dating or whatever we’re doing, there’s every chance that at the end of the day Ed doesn’t want to take such a mammoth risk on me again.
Who could blame him?
Then again, there might have very well been aspects of his behavior that fed my inner demons. All of previous me’s insecurities and shit. He’s open to talking to me about pretty much everything now. But he wasn’t always. A habit that might go back much further than I know. He’s already admitted to working too much, to not paying attention. Caution would be wise on both sides. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to bleed my heart out all over him, however. Lately, when it comes to him, I always feel like I’m leaking emotions. Perhaps this tattoo will be as long-term as we get this time around.
“Yes, I loved you. Very much,” he says matter-of-factly. “And before you ask, I don’t know what I feel for you now, Clem. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He turns off the tattoo gun, sitting back on the stool. “Right. We’re done. What do you think?”
I smile. “I love it.”
Chapter Thirteen
So it turns out that the internet can provide you with an absolute wealth of tips regarding the giving of blow jobs. One of the top suggestions is to just ask the guy what he wants and or likes. This, however, doesn’t suit what I have in mind because it’s the next morning and Ed is fast asleep and I kind of want it to be a surprise. We, of course, had sex the night before. Because he’s gorgeous and hot and wants to fuck me, so ongoing inner emotional turmoil or no, why wouldn’t we?
This is my point. Life is short.
Oh, and I’m pretty sure he held back using the excuse of watching out for my newly inked arm. Like I wouldn’t see through that excuse. The jerk.
It’s a good thing we slept nude and he’s on his back. Otherwise, access could have been a real problem. I crouch beside his magnificently