Page 3 of Tattooed Love

“Oi Jackson?”

He looked back at me over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“On Monday if I don’t remember this, and I’m a bitch, I want to apologize now.” I inhaled sharply and exhaled quickly. “You seem like a nice guy. Perhaps you should try and befriend me when there’s an actual chance of me remembering you.”

He smirked, nodded his head and walked away.

I wouldn’t remember it, but that was the first time Jackson Johnston had saved me from myself, and that was the night our love was born.

***

High school.

It was the dwelling of the stupid, the fake, and the occasional friend. It wasn’t like I didn’t like school; it was school that didn’t like me.

I locked my car, and slowly began to make my way towards the hell on earth.

Once again, I was starting a Monday with a headache, a cut lip, and a massive bruise on my arm. I wasn’t the normal teenager who spent her weekends shopping or playing some stupid sport. I spent my weekends doing what I loved - drinking and stealing.

I was more than happy to openly admit I was a young offender.

Now, closer to the school stairs, I untangled my black sunglasses from my long wavy black hair and pulled them down to my face.

I didn’t have to push through the crowd; people always made way for me, mainly because they were scared that if they didn’t back off, I would make them. I didn’t rush up the staircase; I was in no hurry to attend class.

I was a valued member of a group (some may call it a ‘gang’ but, personally. the mere word ‘gang’ to me, screamed pathetic. I referred to us as a family). We didn’t care about graduating from high school.

But then a memory of Blake and me fighting last week flashed through my mind, and I began to doubt just how long I’d remain a welcome member of this ‘family.’

I pushed a stationary middle school student out of my way in frustration. I heard him fall to the ground, but I didn’t acknowledge it.

Should have moved himself, I reasoned in my mind.

I got to the front yard and did a quick scan of my surroundings.

Happy, immature teens spanned the yard.

I could safely say I disliked pretty much the entire population that attended this pitiful place. Then my eyes landed on Jackson Johnston.

He was sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, arms crossed, hoodie pulled down over his head, and sunglasses on. His minions surrounded him; little morons. I could feel his stare through his sunglasses, but I didn’t pay attention to him, one because I had never spoken to the loser and two because he glared at people more than I did.

Jackson. Jax, his friends call him.

He always had this look about him; like he’d been fighting all night, or had just come out of a fist fight.

I got distracted when I spotted Rachel, leaning against one of the pillars near the entrance, smoking. She caught my eye, flicked her long red hair to the side, and started walking towards me.

Rachel was the only person I spoke to in this place called public high school.

Even though my father was super rich, I didn’t let that factor into my choice of high school. I didn’t give a toss whether I attended a public or private high school. I was going to fail regardless, because I wasn’t into academic stuff, so I saved my father the trouble and the tuition of private school, and didn’t publicly air exactly what kind of wealth I came from.

“Amber.” Rachel spoke as she sucked lightly on the cigarette.

I nodded my head in acknowledgment, and she handed the cigarette over to me.

I sucked on it lightly, letting my eyes return to Jax’s picnic table, as we began to walk slowly towards the school building.

I could never fully understand why he even bothered attending. Everyone knew he had a lot of money, and, from the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

---