Chapter 20
Sleep is not easy in the hard bed of a truck, particularly when this amazing girl is sleeping right next to you. Still, it's worth it to be able to be this close to Emily for this long. In the early hours of the morning, I finally drift off, only to be woken by the sound of Aunt Lisa's voice. For a moment, I forget why I am so happy until I feel Emily's hand still grasping mine.
"Breakfast in five, ladies! Get it while it's hot!"
I open my eyes slowly and see that we're face to face, inches apart. There's something in Emily's expression that I can't quite read but it makes me want to reach out with my other hand and trace the jawline with my finger. She holds my gaze for a long moment, then finally looks away as her cheeks turn pink. I can't help but wonder just how long she was watching me sleep.
She pulls her fingers out of my grip and my palm aches with the loss of her touch. She sits up, sliding to the edge of the truck, her eyes on the horizon.
My body is stiff and I groan as I sit up behind her. Part of me wants to reach for her hand, but somewhere inside me I understand that that particular moment is gone. "Listen, I'm not saying that wasn't fun," I say as I slide past her, our shoulders bumping as I hop down into the grass and rub my left shoulder. "But sleeping in the back of a truck was not one of our best ideas."
She laughs and I smile at the sound as she jumps down after me. I can still feel the metal of the truck in my back and the softness of Emily's hand in my palm. We collect the pillows that did little to soften the truck, shuffling toward the screen door.
"Admit it," I say, catching Emily's eye. "How many times did you think about bailing to sleep inside.
She snorts and holds the door open for me. "Only seven times. Maybe eight. You?"
And miss the chance to sleep next to you?
"Not even once," I say and Emily stops moving. Something like hope flashes in her eyes and I feel my stomach swoop. It dissipates quickly and is replaced by narrowed eyes as we drop the pillows off in the spare room. "Bullshit," she says and I smile.
"Practically every hour on the hour," I say as I slide past her into the hall, but I make sure as much of me touches as much of her as I do it.
"We must be getting close," Emily says to me when the smell of manure comes wafting into the truck. We both frantically roll up our windows at the ungodly smell.
I nod, glancing at the GPS that is up on my phone. "Under half an hour."
Emily presses her forehead against her window, lost in thought and I watch her peripherally, keeping one eye on the road. I wonder if she is as sad to be heading to Huckabee, away from the magic of the ocean, as I am. After yesterday, I just want to live in this bubble with Emily and the water forever.
It was hard to head back into a town where I'm still a new girl starting at a new school my last year of high school. And back to the town that holds the guy the girl I'm pining for is pining for.
But yesterday, she held my hand.
I bite back my smile, thinking of the feel of her hand in mine. Emily is my invincible summer in the midst of the winter that is Huckabee. Emily scrolls through her phone next to me as I mentally scroll through images of Emily through yesterday and this whole summer. I picture the way she looked right before we almost kissed on the surfboards in the water, the sun glistening behind us. I imagine the look on her face when I put on my ridiculous glasses that I absolutely hate wearing. But I also picture Emily's bravery as she stood at the top of the cliff before jumping. The way she grabbed my hand to jump of the cliff the last time. The way we almost kissed at the top of the cliff.
Something's there.
I don't want to push Emily, but it's definitely getting harder and harder to keep my feelings for her to myself. Especially when I suspect she feels the same way about me.
"Blake," Emily says suddenly, pulling me out of my reverie. I ignore the way my heart beats just a little faster, hearing my name on her tongue. "Let's do this." I'm confused for a moment before realizing she's showing me her phone and I look over at it. She has the instagram from Sycamore Street Tattoos open with an advertisement for a…National Underwear Day Tattoo Special?
"National Underwear Day? What even is that?" I ask, smiling as I look back at the road.
"Has anyone?" She asks back and at that, I laugh. She glances back down at her phone before responding. "The tattoo parlor in town always has these discount specials around random national holidays," she explains. "You can get a tattoo for, like, fifty bucks. They've got a huge clearance binder and everything."
Emily, the girl who's afraid of everything, is willing to get a tattoo from a binder? The summer list is really changing her.
"Wait. A clearance binder? A clearance binder of tattoos?" I ask. "That's…"
"That's Huckabee," Emily says with a laugh. Oh that sound.
"Valid point." I nod, so proud of Emily right now. "What are you going to get?"
"I have a good idea," she says as she plugs in the address in the GPS.
The tattoo parlor looks shockingly similar to the one where I got my tattoo. It's a large cool, dark room with tattoo photos covering the walls. Worn-out black folding chairs line the waiting area with a big counter separating it from the tattooing area.
We see a red curtain with a tattoo artist in front of it working on the wrist of a redhead girl a few years older than us. His gray beard is nearly touching her arm as he leans forward to focus on her arm. A red bandana pulls his long hair away from his face. I can see the perspiration on his forehead from here, despite the low temperature of the room.
"Hey, Big Eddie!" Emily says and he glances up. It's no wonder his name is big Eddie, he's built like a linebacker.
"Emily! You here for the special?" Emily nods and rests her hand on a binder on the front counter. I lean over, trying not to laugh when I see CLEARINSE BINDER scrawled across the front in black sharpie.
"Let's hope he tattoos better than he spells," I whisper.
She elbows me and I can't hide my grin when I elbow her back.
"You're not gonna chicken out this time, are ya?" Eddie asks as he turns his attention back to the wrist.
I should have known she's already tried to get a tattoo before. I open my mouth but before I can comment, Emily says, "Say a word and I will never talk to you again".
It's not much of a threat. "That'll be pretty tough considering I'm your ride home," I say.
She scowls before looking away. "Can I maybe get something not in the clearance binder?"
"No can do, Em," Eddie says. "You know the rules of the special."
I hope that's not enough to deter her. I can see disappointment flash in her eyes before she looks resolutely at the binder. That's my girl. Well, not my girl. You know what I mean.
She starts flipping through the pages of the binder. A stick figure holding a rolling pin, a coffee cup next to a toilet paper roll, a donut with pink frosting with a bite taken out, a UFO with a cow. The images are completely random on every page.
Most of the images are goofy, but intricate. And he's fit as many as he possibly can on every page.
Who gets a slice of pizza wearing sunglasses. "Where would you even out a tattoo like that?" I ask Emily, pointing to it.
"Oh, that's a definite butt tattoo."
"Well, pizza does go straight to your ass," I retort as we keep looking. I wonder if Emily eats a lot of pizza briefly, before I shove the thought out of my mind. I'm not thinking of her like that.
I can tell Emily is starting to panic as we near the end of the book. Please let there be something Emily likes. Please let there be something Emily likes.
Nothing. When she turns the page again, I see her expression change and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. It's like every moment with her is just so much I don't want to lose any of it. She pushes the binder away, a gleam of determination in her eyes and I smile.
"You picked one?" I ask, my eyes scanning the page eagerly.
"Yeah, it's-"
But I don't want her to tell me. I want to be the kind of person that just knows her. I grab Emily's arm, cutting her off. "Shh! I want to guess."
I study the page, only a little distracted by the feel of her skin under my palm. I keep glancing at her, wondering if her skin burns where we're touching the way mine does. Finally, I spot a sunflower on the page and tap the page excitedly. "Sunflowers! Like your mom's garden."
Emily nods with that smile that keeps showing up in my dreams.
"I mean, it was a tough call between that and the dancing donut…"
"Fair," I say, reluctantly letting go of her arm to make way for big Eddie and his last customer.
"What'll it be?" he asks and grabs some paperwork for Emily when she shows him. She looks at me and Eddie turns his gaze too.
"You getting one?" he asks, but I shake my head. Maybe I will if…
"Not today! May come back for the slice of pizza in the sunglasses, though," I say instead.
Big Eddie's laugh is deep. "You'd be surprised at the number of people that get that one. Where are you getting yours at, Em?"
Emily points to the same spot where her mother has her tattoo and I find myself running my fingers over my tattoo and thinking of the day I got mine. I picture grasping Claire's hand tightly when the needle first dug into my skin.
"Look over all these documents and give them a signature. I'll get everything ready."
I sit down on one of the chairs Eddie points to, but it nearly collapses entirely beneath me. I shift forward, barely touching the chair when I straighten it, worried I might fall again. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Emily stifling a laugh before she turns her attention back to the form in front of her. As her eyes shift back to the form, I can see worry start to crease her brow and I wonder for a moment if she'll back out. This is a pretty permanent decision and I'm honored that I'm here for it. I want her to go through with it badly. Like it'll somehow reflect on our bond and our friendship if she doesn't.
Finally, it's time for Emily to get her tattoo and she walks over to the chair and sits down, laying her arm on the armrest. In this setup, there isn't really a space for me to sit next to her and hold her hand so she'll have to do this alone. I pull out my phone and open the Instagram app, looking at the picture Claire has just posted of my favorite beach.
"Look all right? There's a mirror over there if you want to double-check," Eddie says and I look up to see Emily staring down at her arm with a look of awe. She walks over to the mirror and looks into it and I watch her, crossing my arms. Our eyes meet in the mirror and I give her a nod of encouragement.
"It's the perfect thing to get. Your mom would love it," I say. I don't know if it's true, but It's the kind of thing I wish I had heard when getting my tattoo. She walks back to the tattoo chair, tears in her eyes and somehow I know it's what she needed to hear too.
"You ready?" Big Eddie asks, needle posed over Emily's arm.
"Uh," Emily says, eyes going comically wide when they land on the needle. For what feels like an eternity, we all hold our breath, waiting for Emily's say-so.
And I can't be this far from her anymore. I move my stool next to the chair and reach out my hand, fingers tingling with the anticipation of touching her again. I can feel the sweat in her palms when she grasps my hand and she simply nods when Big Eddie asks her if she's good.
In a few moments, she's tightly squeezing my hand as she grimaces from the sting of the needle but I don't even notice the pain. All I can feel is the trust she's placing in me to get her through something and my heart soars at the thought. Eventually, Emily closes her eyes and I use the opportunity to examine her face, my other palm tingling with the need to sweep a strand of hair out of her face. Even like this, with her face contorted in pain, she is so beautiful.
When Eddie finishes, she opens her eyes cautiously. I tear my gaze away from her face and look down to her new tattoo, surprised to see that it looks even better than it did on the page.
It almost looks alive.
"Good?" Big Eddie asks and Emily nods, her eyes full of emotion in a way that makes my throat feel thick.
Big Eddie covers the tattoo with a clear wrap held in place and explains how to care for it, but Emily doesn't look like she's listening. Her eyes haven't strayed from the tattoo. Luckily, I remember all the care instructions from my tattoo just over a year ago.
After he's done, Emily lets go of my hand and I feel the lack of warmth in a rush. I flex my fingers, grinning at her, trying to ignore just how much I miss the feel of her hand.
"They all still work! I'm shocked," I tease her and she smiles as she hands over the money. I love making her smile.
Soon, we are pushing the door and are back on the street and I can see glee and relief all over her face.
"I fucking did it!" she screams, dancing around and waving her newly inked arm in the air and I can't help but grin at her. She throws her arms around my neck and I slide my arms around her waist, buzzing with the feel of her chin on my shoulder, her breath on my neck as she holds me close, our bodies press today.
For a moment, everything feels not only possible, but like it's actually going to happen.
And then she lets go.