Page 112 of Saved By A Dark Billionaire
I smiled like an idiot at his text.
Olive:Are you saying I'm your happiness?
My Knight:Isn't it obvious by now? You're my happiness, Olive Brewer. Now go to sleep. It's getting late, and you have a decent trip ahead of you tomorrow. No driving while you're sleepy!
Olive:Yes, sir! Don't worry, I'm a safe driver. Good night, my Knight. I love you.
My Knight:Goodnight, my Rose. I love you!
I moved my books off the bed and got myself cozily in bed. It felt odd sleeping without him by my side. I was happy knowing he was with his family safe and sound. I fell asleep thinking of him, allowing myself to dream of him.Tomorrow I go home.
I woke up throwing up again. I hate stomach bugs, especially when I have a long drive ahead. I'll probably have to pull over a lot more if I continue to stay nauseous. This better stop before Thanksgiving because I refuse to not feel well enough to eat Hailey's family's cooking, or Leo's.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed towards the amazing car mom left me. She made sure I was taken care of before she left, maybe as her way of making up for those long years without her. I threw the suitcase in the trunk before taking my seat. I had to adjust the driver seat, since Lucas drove last. I wish he was driving me now. Maybe next time I go, I'll take him with me and he can see where I liked to hang out.
I started the playlist I created this morning for the road trip. It was a mixture of energized music and soft melancholy tunes. I wanted to wallow in missing Lucas, but also needed to not get tired. I forget how beautiful the drive home can be with the foliage of fall. I wished I could put the top down and enjoy the sun against my skin, but the crisp cold air of New York’s November told me it was a terrible idea. The drive was relaxing, and I only had to pull over once to throw up. It wasn’t too terrible considering. I need to go to the doctor when I get back.
Welcome to Portsmouth
The familiar green sign with white border welcomed me as I entered my hometown. The historic buildings of downtown came into view as I drove into town. Nothing changes much here. The ice skating rink at the Starwbery Banke Museum was open again, littered with kids who were out of school this week in preparation for the holiday.
The owner of the music hall must have had the sign fixed since I was last here, having all of its letters flash brightly again. I headed to the Water Street Inn. It’s far enough away I won’t risk running into dad, but close enough so I won’t be driving an hour away to get into town. The historic house came into view, with its beautiful landscaping.
“Good afternoon,” I was greeted as I entered the door. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, it should be under Brewer.”
“Ah, yes, welcome Ms. Brewer. We have you booked in room 2.”
After some finagling of the computer she grabbed the key and led me to the room. I placed my suitcase on the bed and began to unpack my things. I decided I’d go pay Joe a visit first. He is the only friend I have here. If you can even call him my friend. He’s more of my therapist/tattoo artist, and if you ask either, they can’t be your friend. Maybe I’ll have a session. I've been itching to ink my sink more.
I grabbed some lunch before heading to the Iron Works Tattoo parlor on Congress Street. The small shop between Jumpin Jay’s and The Goat Entertainment came into view. Its welded sign still hung over the shop. The glass was always clean, letting me peer in before entering. I could see Joe, leaned over a woman working his magic on her ankle. I opened the door to find a new face behind the counter.
“Welcome to Iron Works Tattoos. What can we do for you?” she asked me. She screamed hardcore chick with her multitude of piercings and neck tattoos. She had her hair dyed a faded blue with large gauges on her ears. She didn’t smile much, looking at me like I shouldn’t be here.
“I’m here to see Joe. I’ll wait.” I answered her, taking no offense to her presumptions.
I scrolled through my phone trying to find something good to add onto my numerous torso tattoos. I know in the end Joe will do what Joe wants. About 10 minutes later, the woman Joe had been working on paid and left. Joe was busy cleaning his instruments, still not noticing me. He was always very oblivious when he was focused on something.
“Joe, you got a customer!” The blue-haired girl called back to him.
Joe was a big guy, not necessarily the one you would pick to do your tattoos. His looks made you believe he didn't know the definition of gentle, but you would be very wrong, as Joe is the gentlest man around. I have never so much as felt a jolt of terrible pain when he’s worked on me. His thick dark brown eyebrows, which were a shade darker than his brown hair, furrowed as he turned. He seemed upset by the fact someone had interrupted his routine. His rich hazel eyes looked almost green with flecks of gold today. He smiled as he recognized me.
“How is my beaut?” He asked about the tattoos he had made. I lifted my shirt to show it off, impressing the girl behind the counter. “Pause, that’s not mine.” He pointed to the pink ribbon with a scowl.
“Yeah, I know. I needed it, and you weren’t exactly a close drive.” I shrugged. He narrowed his eyes as he approached to investigate it further. His rough large finger traced over the ribbon as if he were trying to imagine how the tattoo had been done. He shook his head in disappointment, clearly not happy with it.
“Come on, I’ll fix it. She deserves better than this.” He pulled me to his table without letting me say a word. My chest tightened at his words. He knew who it was for. He saw the name, recognized the symbol, and noticed the date.
“Thank you, Joe,” I whispered as he got to work on my side.
“Start talking. I know you’re dying to tell me everything that is bothering you,” he said as his needle made contact with my skin. I started by telling him about Hailey and how she helped me. I then moved on to Julius and how I finally lost my virginity. He scrunched his nose in disgust at the revelation.
“Didn’t need to know that part, Cherry Bomb.” I hadn’t heard him call me that in a long time. Sweet as a cherry with the explosive anger of a bomb, he’d explained it to me when he first gave me the nickname.
“Too bad, now you know. Anyway, I’m not done so shhh.” I continued on with my story, telling him about Lucas, then Leo. I told him about mom, then Lucas some more.
“Moved in already?!” He arched his brow, surprised I would be so reckless in his eyes.
