Page 73 of This I Promise You
I wake up in a beach-themed room with light spilling through mahogany shutters. A light breeze creeps in through an open window. My arms snake around Easton’s waist to pull him closer. He stirs and stretches, grinding his ass back into me.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I whisper into his ear and grind into him. My already deep voice is deeper from disuse. I clear my throat. “Good morning, Belle. Sleep well?”
“Of course, babe. I had you to keep me warm.”
“Bullshit.” I stifle a yawn. “You hogged the entire bed all night. I had to get up and find another blanket in the hall closet.Andyou wouldn’t let me touch you because I’m, and I quote, ‘a human heater’. You’re a monster.”
Easton quickly flips to face me. We’re nose to nose, dick to dick, and I can’t help but flex. He does that to me.
“If I’m such a monster,” he starts, rubbing his hand down my shirtless torso to my underwear line, “then you wouldn’t be so…” he looks down, “excited right now, right?”
“You wish. I just woke up, Belle.”
“I beg to differ.” His lips are hovering mere centimeters from mine without getting any closer. This little shit likes to tease and it’s driving memad.
I want to kiss him. I try to kiss him, but he moves out of the way.
I huff. “I hate you.”
We’re quiet for a while. It’s not uncomfortable or annoying. It’s nice. Two people being able to just exist with each other is really nice.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about your tattoos,” he says, “but I keep forgetting.”
“Ask away, Belle.”
He lightly traces my right forearm with his fingers. “This one?”
“I read this book a while back,The Song of Achilles, that reminded me of those ancient marble statues of Greek gods. In the book the main character, Patroclus, is just as much of a god as Achilles is, in my opinion. I got this tattoo of Patroclus with wings, hiding most of his face with his arm to symbolize that not all heroes are gods. The basic, normal human boy can be just as strong, just as important. It reminds me of potential. The rest around him are just pretty embellishments.”
Easton switches to my left hand as his fingers trace around the koi fish on the inside of my wrist. “This?” he whispers.
“Two koi fish. Yin and Yang. Balance.”
“These?” His fingers trace up my forearm.
“Three moon phases. To symbolize death and rebirth.”
He flips my hand over to show the flowers and a geometric ten-sided star.
“I got these first. To show the beauty and interconnectivity of life.” His fingers move to my bicep. “Then I finished my sleeve with the wolf, which is my soul animal. Out of every mammal on the planet, I feel like I connect with the wolf the most. I’m glad I got it too, because that book I bought on our first date, do you remember?”
“Wolfsong?”
“Yeah. It’s all about werewolves and family and pack. It’s fitting ’cause I feel like that’s what we have with our group. I feel like I finally belong and it’s all because of you and Huxley. Maybe Aidan too? I don’t know. I feel like he still hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, babe. Just give him time to warm up,” Easton assures me, but I’m still not so certain. “Ty being here will help.”
We fall silent. Easton slowly and lightly tickles my tattoo sleeve. Up and down, up and down, like a metronome.
Then he presses his hand to the middle of my bare chest.
“And the butterfly?”
“Again, rebirth. I was hoping it’d bring me luck when I moved to Charlotte. I got it right before I left Missouri.”
I tell him about the word tattoos on each of my thighs just above my knees and how they’re Italian for peace and paradise. I tell him about the tattoo on the right side of my neck, a dagger with flowers wrapped around it, and how it’s for my favorite Shakespeare play,Romeo and Juliet. I tell him about the tattoo on my ribs that reads, “Work hard in silence. Let your success be your noise”. I even tell him about the small tattoo I have on my lower hip by my crotch of the Playboy bunny I got on a dare back in my senior year of high school.
