“You’re going down!” Michael exclaimed, jamming the buttons on his controller forcefully. Though he had expecting to be kicking ass, he had only gotten his ass kicked. She had gotten a bout of beginner’s luck and had taken first place in each of the races that Michael had started.
“Are you sure about that?” She giggled, unleashed one of her shells and taking him out, soaring past him to win the race.
Michael deflated, watching as the rankings popped up on the screen, her name listed just above his. “That’s impossible,” he said, letting his controller fall into his lap. “I always beat my friends, and you just come in here and completely slaughter me.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.
She laughed, watching as Vader jumped up onto the sofa, making himself comfortable between the two of them. “Now you know how your friends feel,” she said. “Maybe I’ll let you win the next time,” she teased, but rested her controller against her bare leg.
She scratched behind Vader’s ears again; quickly learning that was his favorite place to be scratched. Michael quickly joined in, petting his dog across the back and forgetting about the game that was on the screen. She let her eyes drift from the dog’s blissful eyes to Michael’s tattooed fingers.
He had so many of them – they made her curious. “So,” she started, catching Michael’s attention. “Tell me what some of your tattoos mean.”
She watched as Michael sighed, a small smile pulling up onto his lips. “Tell me which arm to start on,” he offered, holding out both arms for her to pick from. One had only a few tattoos; the other was completely covered in colorful ink and black ink alike.
She pointed to the arm that had the lesser amount of tattoos. “Start with this one,” she said pointing to the tribal looking tattoo that was situated between his armbands.
Michael’s smile grew, twisting his arm so she could see it better. “This,” he started. “It’s a symbol from one of my favorite video games. It means ‘home.’ And I got it just to remind myself of where I came from and home is where the heart is. Just a little more badass looking,” he laughed, tracing the outline of it.
That was definitely not what she was expecting. But somehow, it made her understand Michael a little more. She smoothed her finger over his the band across his forearm. “What do these mean?”
Michael watched her finger trace the edge of the band before answering. “I just thought they looked cool. No real rhyme or reason behind them,” he shrugged. She wasn’t too surprised that they didn’t mean anything. He worked in a tattoo shop for heaven’s sake, there had to be a time where he got a tattoo just to get a tattoo.
They continued on, her asking about the rest of his tattoos, like what the anchor and the ‘X’ on his finger meant. What the quote inside his arm meant and what the rest of his random tattoos on his other arm meant to him. Some of them held real meaning, but others like the bands on his arms were just out of impulse because he thought they looked cool.
“Have you ever tattooed yourself?” She asked quietly, tracing the black lines of the jellyfish that curved around his forearm (it had been one of those he thought just looked cool.)
Michael nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up in a wry smile. “Those are all on my legs. I don’t really like to show them to people,” Michael said, his own fingers tracing unseen patterns into the denim covering his thighs. She wanted to see them, but only if and when Michael was okay with it.
“Why not?” She asked, genuinely curious.
Michael shrugged. “They’re not very good,” he said as if he hated saying it.
“Well,” she started. “I like to think of it as an improvement. You can show people how much you’ve improved over time. I like to think the same way about my flowers. Sometimes they die, but that doesn’t stop me from making more bouquets. Maybe it’s not the same thing, but I don’t think you should be ashamed of them, Michael.”
Michael had listened to her intently, his green eyes focused on hers the whole time. “I had never thought about it that way before,” Michael said when she was finished. “But I like the way you think,” he smiled, leaning forward, his eyes seeming to darken as he closed the gap between them. Vader jumped down, leaving him with ample room.
She felt her breath escape her as Michael’s lips neared hers. His hand found her bare thigh, his fingers barely pressing into her skin. And then his lips were against hers, soft and gentle.
“Michael,” she whispered against his lips, trying to keep her eyes from fluttering shut. He hummed, pulling back slightly, his features turning into a look of concern. “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” She asked, biting down on her lip.
She wanted to kiss him again – for real. No holding back and no second-guessing. But she had a fear of moving too fast, of getting into a situation where she couldn’t handle herself. It had happened before, and she’d rather not go through it again.
Michael scooted back a little farther, but his hand remained on her thigh, his thumb caressing her flesh. “I don’t think so,” Michael said. “But we can move slower if you’d like. If that makes you more comfortable.” He was watching her again, his artistic eye taking in every little detail of her.
From the way she was slightly flushed, her pulse at the base of her throat, or how her lips were slightly parted. He found her beautiful – he had since the day she moved her shop in next door to his.
She nodded slowly. She wanted to kiss Michael again, but she could wait a little longer.
“Okay,” Michael agreed. “Why don’t we play another game?” He asked, glancing towards the television where the Mario Kart start up screen was replaying over and over again on the screen.
“You’re on,” she challenged, picking up her controller again.
“There’s a catch,” Michael said, stopping her before she could start the next game. She caught his eyes, arching a brow in question. “If I win, I get to kiss you. For real this time.”
“And if I win?” She questioned, liking the sound of the stakes.
“Then you get to tattoo me,” he said, lips quirking up into a smile. Her mouth parted slightly in surprise. She had never tattooed anybody before, but she’d give it a try. She grinned, starting the game.
It was an intense race, Michael and her neck and neck for most of it. But nearing the end of the last lap, Michael pulled ahead, securing his lead when he tripped her up with a banana peel.
The winner popped up on the screen, Michael’s name reading in bold letters. She felt her heart sink – she had lost. Then she felt the controller slip from her hands, Michael placing it on the coffee table. His hand then found her hip, his other keeping him propped up above her.
Then she was tasting him again, his mouth moving against hers slowly. His tongue prodded her lips apart to slip inside. She had kissed many guys in her lifetime, but none of them had compared to Michael. She could taste his confidence, how he was so sure of his actions.
He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling it slightly before releasing it. Then his mouth hovered over hers, “So when do I get to tattoo you again?” He hummed against her mouth.
Her eyes peeled open slightly. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Michael. You got your prize,” she murmured back, her own hands coming around to fiddle with the hairs at the base of his neck. She wanted to pull him closer, to taste him again but he had only won one kiss.
“I did,” he grinned, sitting back slightly so she could see his eyes more clearly. His pupils were blown wide, eating up most of the green tint. “But I guess I forgot to mention that part,” he smirked, his fingers dancing across her knee in a teasing manner.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but bite her lip to hide her smile. “I don’t know what else I’d want. And this one isn’t even healed yet,” she replied, motioning to her stomach.
Michael nodded, “I know. But I have a few ideas. We don’t have to do it right now, but this isn’t going to be your only tattoo. Not when you’re going to be around me all the time.”
She smiled again, glad that she had finally stepped into the tattoo shop last week and faced her fears. But she glanced at the time, seeing how late it was. She startled, almost hitting her head against Michael’s.
“I need to go,” she said, grabbing her purse. “It’s late and I have to open the shop tomorrow,” she said, standing and waiting for Michael to follow. His smile seemed to falter, but nodded in agreement. They were both business owners, he knew how it went.
She petted Vader’s head as she passed the love seat he was curled up on. She then paused by the door, turning towards Michael. “Thanks for tonight,” she grinned. “I had fun.”
Michael mirrored her smile. “So did I,” he told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Maybe stop by the shop for your lunch break?” He suggested, his pierced brow rose in inquiry.
She nodded, unable to contain her excitement. She stepped forward, kissing his stubbly cheek before she stepped out the door and headed home.
so this is the newest piece i’m working on & i’m planning on making it a full length fic. @tocasteclipses aka kaity (prev hemmojaw) is helping me out with this story. but we have a lot in store for this fic so we hope you enjoy it! also, feedback is much appreciated and it lets me know that you’re liking it (or not) so let me know what you think!
He lived on the edge of her eyesight. He always moved silently between the shelves of the library, only giving glimpses of himself to the others in the building. Aurora liked to label people, it was a bad habit, but it was one that she couldn’t seem to shake. She filed him away in the mystery genre, for many reasons.
For one, she didn’t know his name, yet she saw him everyday in the library. His arms were inked with dark tattoos, a name etched onto his arm and initials inked onto the skin of his hands. Aurora wanted to know who they were and what they meant to him. But for now, they only added to the enigma that shrouded him
His dark eyes were always framed by furrowed eyebrows, either in focus or anger – Aurora could never figure out which. Though, his sharp jawline and pouted lips never seemed to make her think he was happy.
It was often that she found herself watching him more than working on her own classwork. He never seemed to sit down and work on his own stuff; he just meandered through the aisles, picking out a few books before moving onto the next aisle.
He never spoke to any of the other students; he never even said a word to the librarians on duty. He only seemed to be absorbed into his own little world, as if the people around him didn’t exist.
Aurora watched him move between the aisles, his coffee brown eyes focused on his feet. He stopped a few times, skimming the titles before picking a few out, looking them over before putting them back. It was then that he disappeared into the back of the library, gone from her vision.
She looked back down to her textbook, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Aurora wanted to read him like the books he surrounded himself with. Instead, he was a language she wasn’t quite fluent in. She took a deep breath, pushing away from the table and abandoning her work.
Aurora stepped into the aisle she had caught glimpses of him in. She skimmed the shelves, looking for the books he was looking at but put back. The way she figured, they were small pieces to the puzzle he was. Books said a lot about the people who read them.
But somehow, the books Aurora had seen him pick up were gone. All that was left behind was an empty space. They marked his path, but left no further clues to whom he was inside. But Aurora could have sworn that she saw him put the books back, sliding them back into their designated space on the shelf.
She glanced through the aisle again, but there was no trace of where he or the books went. Defeated, Aurora made her way back to her own books, trying to push the dark-skinned boy free from her thoughts. She grabbed her pencil, but instead of pressing the point to the paper, it found its way between her teeth, gnawing at the eraser.
No matter how hard she tried, Aurora couldn’t stop thinking about him. She spit the pencil from her mouth, trying to focus on her classwork. She shouldn’t have let him distract her, but he was a beacon for curious eyes. Aurora scribbled down another problem, letting the numbers flood her mind.
And before Aurora knew it, she had finished the worksheet and problems she was assigned for the night. She was definitively free for the rest of the evening. She was content that she could finally escape back to her dorm room and slip into the new pajamas she had bought this morning before class.
Aurora packed away her supplies; shoving it into the black abyss she called her backpack. She was never an organized person, that was one thing she knew for sure. Aurora swung the bag onto her shoulder, making sure she had everything before making her way towards the exit.
She grabbed the pen at the sign-out station. Aurora scribbled down her name, the time she left and the books that she checked out (which was none.) Her school was big on safety, in case something was to happen to someone, which it hadn’t in a long time. But it was never a bad idea to take precautions.
Aurora was just about to push the door open and head towards her dorm before she heard her name being called. She turned, finding the librarian, the clipboard she had just filled out clutched in her hands. “Aurora Fields?” She questioned again, peering out over the bridge of her glasses.
Aurora nodded, arching a brow in question.
But the librarian didn’t say anything; she sat the clipboard down before motioning for her to come around the front of the desk. Aurora obeyed, watching the librarian curiously as she shuffled through a stack of papers before pulling one of them free.
She handed it to Aurora, waiting a few seconds before speaking again. “This is a list of books that you have checked out over the past two months and never returned. It’s come to a grand total of twenty books, Ms. Fields. Other students need to use the books and you need to return them as soon as you can before we take any further disciplinary action,” the librarian almost chided.
Aurora stared down at the paper incredulously. Some of the titles she had never seen before. She may not have been an organized person, but she would never stoop as low as stealing library books. What she took, she always returned.
“But ma’am,” Aurora started, glancing up from the paper. “I haven’t checked these books out, nor do I have them in my possession.”
The librarian pursed her lips, but again remained silent. She searched through another stack of papers, Aurora watching her silently. She pulled out a few more papers, spreading them out on the counter in front of Aurora.
“On all of these days you have checked out books,” the librarian started. “They are all catalogued, and need to be returned as soon as possible.”
Aurora grabbed one of the papers, looking it over. She glanced down the list, finding her list. She let her eyes follow across the line to the space where they were supposed to list the books they checked out. And much to Aurora’s surprise, there were titles listed under her name.
But she was positive that she didn’t write them there. The handwriting didn’t match hers, but it was close enough that it could pass as real. She sighed.
“Ma’am,” Aurora began. “Like I said, I didn’t check these books out. And I have no idea where they are or who has them.”
“Then I have no choice to assign you detention. And you’ll have to pay the amount the books come to since you aren’t able to return them, we’ll have to replace them,” she concluded. She handed Aurora another piece of paper with the grand total of the books. Aurora found it hard to swallow once she had saw the price she had to pay for the crime she didn’t commit.
Aurora waited patiently as the librarian typed up her detention report. She watched as it spit out of the printer, the librarian grabbing it and handing it to her, but pointing out the main details.
“You’ll have detention every other night for the rest of the semester,” the librarian explained, narrowing her gaze when Aurora went to argue. To her, it seemed a little extreme. “You will still have to pay for the amount owed, but there is no deadline for that as long as it gets paid.”
Aurora sighed, but nodded. She had no choice but to agree. She just didn’t know how she was going to keep up with her classes while working extra hours to pay off the charges and go to detention. She rubbed at her forehead as the librarian dismissed her, freeing her to do what she wanted.
She broke out into the evening, her backpack hanging off one shoulder as she shoved the papers into the main compartment. Aurora was angry, but there was nothing she could do now. She swung her bag back onto her back, slipping her arm through the strap.
She looked across campus, the street lamps already illuminating small spots of the sidewalk. A shadow moved across one of the circles of light. It seemed familiar in the way it moved, as if he was still maneuvering through the aisles in the library.
Aurora sighed, pushing the boy out of her mind for the final time that night and headed home.
