Page 22 of Through the Flames
“This one’s for me, not for anyone else to see. Yet.”
I’d been adding tattoos gradually, each one carefully chosen.
At first, it was about feeling something —anything— good about myself after senior year, after the small-town judgment, after all the ways people had tried to shrink me down.
I’d always wanted tattoos, but I didn’t want to give anyone more reason to tear me apart back then. It took me a while to start feeling like I deserved my own skin.
Now, every piece has a purpose. The flowers embedded in mandala patterns twisting up my arm in fine lines not only made me feel badass but also undeniably feminine.
I wasn’t hiding anymore — not from the world and not from myself.
This was mine, my rebellion in ink, my quiet way of shutting out the outside voice and just doing something forme.
She widened her eyes, cocking her head. “Oh?Yet? Do tell.”
I could feel traitorous heat crawling up my neck. “There’s nothing to tell.”
And there wasn’t. Not really. At least nothing that wouldn’t pretty much out me as delusional.
The buzz of the needle against my thigh was sharp, precise, and grounding, but my thoughts still wandered. The memory of the stranger pressing against me at the party kept creeping back into my mind.
I didn’t know who he was. Not really, since I’d never seen his face. He’d been all but a presence.
The weight, the pressure, the brief, impossible closeness — it had all felt deliberate and incredibly intimate.
Then a dangerous and ridiculous idea entered my mind.
What if it was Hunter?
It made no sense. He hated being touched. He avoided it.
Yet something about the memory whispered his name. The way he occupied space, the quiet strength I’d noticed before, the certainty in every movement — it could’ve been him. Probably wasn’t.
But maybe … maybe it was.
A reckless, secret part of me wanted it to be him. Wanted him to be the only person who’d ever see this tattoo, hidden high on my thigh.
This private rebellion for myself, a secret only belonging to me.
But itcouldbelong to him, too.
“Okay. You’re being weird. What’s going on?”
I laughed, but it came out a little too high-pitched. Savannah gave a tiny snort, her eyes flicking up to me for a beat.
“I mean,technically, nothing. Define ‘going on.’ Like, emotionally? Spiritually? Biologically?”
Hailey leaned back with a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Ella. Stop dancing around. How’s your summer?Dating life?”
I snorted. “Oh, you know. Same old disaster.”
Her brows shot up. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Oh yeah? First date, the guy spent the whole time talking about his ex. Second date, disappeared mid-walk in the park. Third date … oh, that one was special. He tried to fix my serve.”
Hailey’s eyes widened, a mix of horror and amusement. “What? No way. You’re not exaggerating?”
“Not even a little. I swear, I’m starting to think there’s a curse. Like every time I try to date, the universe just laughs at me.”
