Forever Ours (4 page)

I don’t ask her if she wants to see it, but I watch her face for her reaction. She glances at the cars passing by on Avent Ferry Road, then she looks back at me. I can see she’s contemplating whether or not she wants to see it.

“What kind of tattoo is it?”

“It’s stupid.”

She smiles. “What do you mean? All those other tattoos were really cool. I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“No, really. It’s probably the stupidest tattoo I’ve ever seen on anyone. This is the tattoo that got me in trouble. I got it while Tristan and I were super drunk a couple of months ago and my mom flipped when she saw it. Then she made fun of me for weeks.”

“Okay, now I have to see it.”

I smile and shake my head. “Nope. I’m getting it covered up soon and you’ll never know what it was.”

“Aw, come on. That’s not fair.”

“Why?”

She shrugs and turns her gaze back to the sidewalk ahead of us. “I don’t know. Tristan got to see it.”

My heart races at this reply, which implies she wants to be as worthy as my best friend. “All right. I’ll let you see it when we get to Shayla’s.”

“
Shayla
? Your tattoo artist is a
girl
?”

“Is that a problem?”

She shakes her head, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead. “Nope. Just assumed it was a guy.” She clears her throat and digs her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans. “So why are you getting a tattoo today?”

“It’s my birthday today.”

She whips her head toward me. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything at lunch?”

“I didn’t expect anybody to remember. Tristan and Jake are the only ones who know my birthday, but it’s not like I made them set reminders on their calendars or anything. It’s just a birthday. It’s not a big deal.”

She looks disappointed with this response. “So, you’re sixteen now?”

“Yep. Sweet sixteen.” I wink at her and she blushes as she turns her attention back to the street. “Can I ask you a question?”

She sighs as if she already knows what I’m going to ask. “You can ask whatever you want. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough.” I pause for a moment as I work up the courage, then I spit it out quickly. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“One. When I was twelve.”
 

“Twelve?”
 

“We were only together for, like, four days.”

“What was his name?”

“Why do you want to know?” She’s still looking straight ahead, but she’s wearing a whisper of a smile.

“Because I want to know everything about you.”

Chapter Seven

Claire

Forever Envious

We arrive at 424 Helms at that moment and I gladly accept the momentary distraction to catch my breath as Chris bounds up the porch steps to ring the doorbell.
Oh, God.
Even the way he rings the doorbell looks cute. How he glances at me over his shoulder, his face beaming with excitement over some new ink. Like a kid on Halloween waiting for someone to answer the door and dump candy into his bucket.

I turn away quickly before he can catch me swooning. Looking out at the two-story houses on Helms Avenue, I’m reminded of a house I lived in last year, just a few streets away from here. I was there for four months during the summer and the end of my eighth grade year. My birthday came and went that year without anyone noticing, even after I’d lived with the Grohl family for a few months. It wasn’t as if this was the first time my birthday was forgotten. It was that I had promised myself that I would have the courage to say something this time. And I didn’t.

I really hope it doesn’t happen again this year. I don’t think I could handle another forgotten birthday. Not in the Knight house.

“Claire!”

I turn around at the sound of Chris’s voice. My stomach clenches as he nods toward the open door where a beautiful girl who can’t be more than twenty years old stands. She raises her eyebrows as she waits for me to join them.

Chris moves aside so I can enter before him. “Claire, this is Shayla. Shayla, this is Claire.”

“This your girlfriend?” Shayla asks in a bored voice.

Her pink hair is short and spiky, but her skin and makeup are flawless. Her
 
tank top shows off her smooth tattooed arms. And her skinny black jeans are riding so low, I can see the waistband of her lacy panties.

I take a seat on the sofa as Chris and Shayla make their way a bit further into the room so Chris can sit on a chair. The mint-green vinyl chair sits in the middle of a wood floor in what should be a dining area, and looks like it was stolen out of a dentist’s office. The far wall behind the chair is mirrored from floor to ceiling and the wall on the right is lined with shelves holding disinfectant, inks, and various supplies.
 

Without any warning or prompting, Chris peels off his T-shirt. His chest and ab muscles flex as he sits on the chair. He glances at me as he lies back and smiles when he catches me staring at him. But, mercifully, he doesn’t call me out on it.

I watch silently as Shayla grabs stuff off the shelves and begins setting up the machine. But I can feel Chris watching me. Finally, I look at him and he smiles as he beckons me with his finger.

My stomach flips and I take deep breaths as I stand from the sofa and walk to him. Trying not to focus too much on whether or not I have an awkward walk or if my hair looks windblown. Or how much prettier Shayla looks when she walks.

“I told you I’d show you my sorry ass tattoo before I get it covered up,” he says when I’m almost next to him.

I stop a few feet away, trying to look anywhere but his chest, but he beckons me closer.

“Come here.”

I step forward until I’m right next to the chair. He points at the right side of his chest as Shayla sits down and rolls her chair over the wood floor until she’s next to me. When I see the tattoo, I laugh out loud. Uproarious, gut-busting laughter. Right over his left pectoral muscle, spelled out in a drunken scrawl, is his name, Chris.

“You don’t have to laugh that hard,” he says, though he can’t hide his grin.

“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth and try to catch my breath. “Were you afraid you’d forget your name?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. I was drunk. And I
did
forget my name for a moment. So Tristan said, ‘I bet you wouldn’t forget it if it was tattooed on you like every other fucking thing you want to remember.’” I shake my head as he looks up at me with the most adorable look of embarrassment. “And I was drunk,” he adds again, in case I forgot.

“Maybe you should have just tattooed ‘I was drunk’ on there,” I reply and his eyes light up.

“Shit! Why didn’t I think of that?”

I scoot out of the way so Shayla can roll her stool closer to Chris. My heart pounds with roaring jealousy as she wipes the left side of his chest with antiseptic. Finally, I tear my gaze away and head back to the sofa.

When it’s over, Chris shows me the tattoo of a monkey sitting down with its eyes closed and legs crossed and wearing a red cape. Chris explains that he has a thing for Japanese culture and the monkey was revered in depictions of Shinto Buddhist mythology.

“Why the red cape?” I ask, as we walk back home.

“Why not?”

I smile and we’re silent for quite a while before I clear my throat to speak. “His name was Wade.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My boyfriend. The one you asked me about earlier.”

“
Wade
?” He looks incredulous. “Are you
serious
?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a
terrible
name.”

“It is not.”

“Yes, it is. Claire and Wade? That’s just wrong.” He smiles and I quickly face forward so he can’t see the effect it has on me. “Chris and Claire… Now that’s the sound of destiny.”

“Wade was very cute.” I glance at him sideways to see his reaction and he’s looking straight at me, smiling as if he knows I’m trying to make him jealous.

“You want me to help you write a song for Wade?”

“Shut up.”

“Wade would never write you a song, but I’ve already written you three.”

I can hardly breathe as my heart pounds crazy fast inside my chest. I glance at him again and his smile has softened.

“If you don’t tell my mom about this tattoo, I’ll play one of your songs for you.”

“I’m not going to tell your mom,” I reply quickly.
 

I want to hear those songs. Now.

He chuckles as we approach the house. “She can be very convincing.”

I smile as I think,
Just like you.

Chapter Eight

Claire

Forever Blue

I wake the morning of June 7
^th
feeling heavy. It’s a familiar feeling. It happens once in a while without warning, but it always happens on June 7
^th
. Like a trusty friend who always visits on a special anniversary. My heart is always heaviest on the anniversary of my mother’s death.

That’s why I always try to do something that makes me happy on June 7
^th
. Wallowing in my room only makes the heaviness worse. I need something light to pick me up.
 

Last year, I walked to the local movie theater by myself and watched a comedy.
 
Then I stopped and got myself some frozen yogurt on the way back. Mrs. Grohl slipped me a twenty-dollar bill and a look of immense pity when I told her why I wanted to go to the movies.

I wonder if Chris is busy today.
 

I head downstairs to the kitchen after I’ve showered and dressed. I’ve been applying a bit of makeup the past couple of weeks since our trip to Shayla’s house. Not that I think Chris prefers Shayla’s thick black eyeliner and perfectly pink pout to my natural look. My reason for putting on makeup is even more pathetic than that.

I’ve convinced myself that by wearing makeup when I’m around Chris, he’ll know that I care about what I look like around him. And that, one day, he’ll tell me how beautiful I am without makeup. Pathetic. I know.

It’s almost three in the afternoon now. I woke up late today and decided to read in bed for a while before I took a shower.
A while
turned into three hours. So this is the first time I’ve been downstairs all day. I’m starving.

I immediately head for the fridge to make myself a sandwich, when I notice Chris in the backyard, playing with Mr. Miyagi. That poor dog is ten years old and Chris refuses to believe that he doesn’t have the same amount of energy as he did when he was a puppy. But watching them through the window, Chris lying on the grass with Mr. Miyagi jumping and barking at him, it makes my stomach swirl with happiness.

Maybe I don’t have to go anywhere today.

I grab all the stuff for my sandwich, then I peek my head out the sliding glass door into the back yard. “Do you want a sandwich?”

Chris tackles Mr. Miyagi and proceeds to rub his belly. He looks up at me with a huge smile, tongue practically wagging, then he nods.

I fix us both a sandwich and head outside with our plates. It’s a beautiful summer day. So different than it was eight years ago.

I set the plates down on the wrought iron patio table, then I pull out a chair and sit down to eat. Chris heads over to join me and I get a strange feeling in the pit of my belly as I imagine him leaning over to kiss me to thank me for the sandwich. But he doesn’t do that. He just sits down and smiles at the sandwich, then he looks up at me.

“Thanks. Did you just wake up?”

I wait for him to take a bite of his sandwich first. “No. I’ve been reading.”

“What are you reading?” he asks through a mouthful of food.

“Just a book. How’s the sandwich?”

“Delicious.”

I take a bite and realize I forgot the mustard. We eat in silence for a few minutes before I work up the courage to ask him what I wanted to ask.

“Are you going to Tristan’s today?”

“Nah, they’re coming over here. Why? You want to go to Tristan’s?”

I chuckle weakly. He knows I don’t get along with Tristan very well.

“I’m kidding,” he says, putting his sandwich down. “Do you want to hang out?”