Her Love Ran Crimson (Crimson Series) Read online

  I clear my things off the table and walk to my car, get in, and start toward the school. When I pull into the student parking lot, I scan the lot for Jase’s car. My heart sinks when I don’t see it. I have to remind myself that we aren’t even friends. I shouldn’t be getting all upset from him not being here. I really need to get a grip and figure out how to go back to where I just existed and nobody else mattered, but my heart keeps telling me Jase does matter.

  After getting my things out of the car and pulling myself together I get to class with only seconds to spare before the bell rings. I glance around and notice Jase isn’t in class. I am really torn on how I feel about him not being here. In a way I am happy he isn’t here to ask unanswerable questions, but I am also sad because I really miss the way my heart rate spikes when I see his beautiful green eyes fixate on me.

  To distract my thoughts, I bury myself in my school work and focus on getting the rest of my unfinished assignments completed for the next class. I have really been dropping the ball these last couple of days. I am letting myself get too incredibly caught up in a fairy tale that doesn’t exist for me. Happy endings are only made for movies with princesses and people of a normal caliber. That was not me. Before I know it the bell rings. I place tonight’s homework in my folder along with the work I just completed. I don’t see Jase in the next class either. A horrible thought crosses my mind and I start to have a little panic attack. He took me close to my house yesterday. What if somebody saw him? Just as I am in full out panic mode, I remember Dixon was already at my house. He couldn’t have seen him.

  Then seriously, cue the cliché music. Just as I am settling down from my freak out, Jase strides through the doors. I swear if he didn’t have is hair gelled in perfect spikes and a tight shirt showing off all his toned definition of his arms I hadn’t noticed before, you would have seen the wind blowing through his brown locks of hair and his clothes being blown back in the wind. Total Fabio moment! That is the type of entrances he makes in my mind. This is becoming some sort of sick torture I am putting myself through. Our eyes lock and the air is so thick I have to quickly look away to stop the fireworks exploding in my heart. My pulse is rising and I swear it is going to burst through my veins. He walks to his desk. While passing me he whispers something so quietly, I almost miss it.

  “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

  I can’t contain the grin that is betraying my logical thoughts. He is actually relieved to see me; did that mean he was worried about me? Like he thought he wouldn’t see me again?

  I open my book and stare at it, unable to make sense of anything I am reading because my mind keeps replaying what he just said. I look over as fast as I can, trying to steal a quick glance of the perfect contour of his face. Of course he catches me, and I feel my cheeks turn crimson as he flashes me a mischievously perfect smile, knowing I was just caught. I look back to my book slightly embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t notice, but I am sure the blush in my cheeks begs to differ.

  Not being able to focus, I am flooded with relief when we are dismissed. As I am walking to my locker I can feel him before I notice him next to me. When Jase is certain he has gained my attention he picks up the pace and walks in front of me and suddenly turns to me while walking backwards.

  “I was pretty worried about you last night. I didn’t get your number, so I couldn’t check up on you to make sure you got home alright.”

  I am sure the smile filling the inside of me was going to burst out. I stay composed and try to play it off like it doesn’t matter. I am finding it harder and harder to play the “I don’t care” role anymore. I really need a friend. I am craving interaction. Not so much so I can confide all my secrets in someone, but plain and simple, I am tired of living for everybody else and letting them do with me as they please, putting me in harm’s way. It is that moment I have an epiphany. I can be his friend at school. What will be the harm in that? I just have to lay down some ground rules for myself and not let myself get carried away because that is when I will slip up and make mistakes. I can do school friends. Anything more I can’t put somebody through.

  Finally, after clearing this all up in my head, I ask him, “Why are you here?” I could swear I see nervousness flash in his eyes. Thinking he took the question the wrong way I clarify. , “I mean more than halfway through the school year?” The clarification seems to work as his shoulders relax.

  “It was either here, or homeschool, so instead of being completely exiled from the world I chose here,” he replies matter-of-factly.

  “So, you really don’t want to be here?” I am sad thinking as soon as school is over in a couple of months he will disappear after graduation.

  “So far it has been okay except for this one person who keeps ignoring me. Well, until now,” he says as he bumps my shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. Okay, now my heart is going into overdrive. I have to tell myself to calm down. We just met and it’s only his third day here. I am sure he will start to find his spot here and make friends. The thought bothers me, so all I can say is, “Oh.”

  “Look, I’m not like everybody else. I don’t care about being the popular guy or what anybody else thinks. I do what is most comfortable for me and I find myself wanting to know you. Is that so bad?”

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I don’t do friends and I especially don’t do boyfriends. Not that I think you want to be my boyfriend…I mean…I just don’t let people in my life. I have some things…things I need to work out and then I will be leaving. I turn eighteen two days after graduation.” That is all I can say, which he seems satisfied with. I like that he isn’t pressuring me to talk to him about anything. This is nice, just walking and talking. As soon as I start to get comfortable talking with him the bell rings. “We should get to class.” He smiles a dazzling white smile at me.

  “Yeah, okay. Can I walk with you to class?”

  I do a little happy dance in my head. “Sure.” We walk to the next class enjoy the quiet silence of each other’s company.

  Chapter Four

  Our afternoon class together is Pre-Calculus. Not my strongest subject, but seriously is it anybody’s? Numbers and I don’t get along. Jase must see the frustration written all over my face because he leans over and whispers in my ear.

  “Looks like you need some help. Wanna work on it after school with me.”

  His breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. I wrack my brain for an excuse to turn him down, knowing I have limits, but nothing comes to mind. I just nod and go back to trying to understand what is going on in class.

  We walk out of class together.

  “I have weight lifting in the gym for sixth period, so I’ll meet you in the library after school, okay?”

  “Sure, see you then,” I say as I compose myself as much as possible. I turn down the hall and make it to health class a little bit early. My nerves are having an internal battle with my body as I sit anxiously in class thinking how bad things can go. What if I say something stupid or make a complete fool of myself? I’m really starting to regret the tutoring agreement.

  As I am walk over to the library after school to meet him I am counting to ten over and over again, trying to calm my racing heart down. I try to convince myself that he only wants to help me because I am not doing so well in the class and he is just being friendly. It’s not working. His incredibly good looks are making me feel inadequate. I have never been anything special to anyone so why would now be any different?

  I arrive at the doors to the library and freeze. My hands shake uncontrollably as I reach for the handle. God, this is so hard to do. Finally, after struggling for what feels like forever I pry open the library doors and walk in. I don’t see him yet, so I grab a table and pull out my book, paper, and a pencil. A minute later he walks in the door. My heart flutters. It’s like anything ceases to exist when I am in close proximity of him. I see heads turn as he makes his way over to me. He is something all girls want on their arm. I hear some g
asps as he takes the seat next to me. All of the stares are instantly making me want to run. He is going to hear everything about me and then he will look at me the way everybody else does. He gently puts his hand on mine, which raises the hairs on my arms.

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  The disappointment in his eyes makes me want to crumble to pieces. How is it I tend to always displease everybody I come in contact with?

  “Look, if you’re uncomfortable being here and letting me help you with your work we don’t have to do this. I just thought if we studied together it might stick a little easier.”

  There’s that word again. Help. Do I really look like I need help? I needed help with my car the other day and now I need help with my math homework. I really don’t want to be a charity case to anybody. I’ve managed just fine until he came to school.

  I clear my throat and look at him, about to say something, trying to find the words to make this less awkward. “It’s really nice of you to take the time out of your day. I know you don’t have to, but I am really afraid that you will hear things about me, which you will, and treat me the way they all do.” I wave around the library where groups of students are settled.

  “I don’t care what they tell me. I like to form my own opinions of others. I don’t listen to the gossip.”

  He says this so calmly that it actually sounds like the truth and I want so badly to believe him, but I knew once the word spreads to him he will run and then I will, yet again, be a vile person to somebody else.

  “It’s not gossip, Jase. Everything they say about me is true,” I say quietly, barely audible.

  “Well why don’t you let me try to get to know you?”

  I am a mixture of nervousness and elated happiness that somebody wants to get to know the real me and not the awful things that people say about me. He will soon find out the truth anyway. I know he is going to keep asking questions about me until I tell him the dark things about my life, but for now I was just going to enjoy the moment and have fun for the time that it lasts.

  Our tutoring session is very helpful. He helps me understand graphs and other things I have been having problems with. He is easy to understand and I really can’t help but listen to what is coming out of his amazingly perfect lips. He has a way of helping me and not making me feel stupid.

  Once we are finished with the tutoring, I pack up my stuff. “Thanks again for your help.”

  “Any time.”

  I walk out of the library in a fog. I start to panic when I hear footsteps coming from behind me. I instinctively speed up my pace and try to flee. The familiar voice of Jase eases me.

  “Hey, Maddie, wait up.”

  I love when he says my name. I pause and turn to look at him. A small smile creeps up to my lips.

  “Hey, you left so fast I didn’t get a chance to ask you for your number.”

  Is this a little too much for me to handle? I don’t know what to say to that, so I just say the first thing that came to my mind. “Yeah about that, um…. I don’t know. Maybe that isn’t such a good idea.” With that I turn and start toward my car again. I feel bad because before I turned away, he looked a little uncomfortable, and was shifting from foot to foot like he was unsure of himself now that I pretty much just shot him down.

  He catches up to me again while I’m just stepping down from the curb. Suddenly he pulls me back onto the sidewalk so fast I barely see the car that is coming right at me. I freeze. I can’t move or speak. I am completely overwhelmed by shock. I can’t even blink. His comforting embrace brings me back to sudden awareness of what almost just happened. A tear disobeys my eyes and falls down my cheek. I am trembling and tongue-tied. I can’t even make sense of anything. What just happened? I have to breathe deep and calm down. I finally turn around and look at him. “Thank you. You keep showing up at all the right times.”

  He follows me to my car in silence. We stand at my car for a second, not saying anything. I break the quiet first as I dig my keys out of the front pocket of my backpack. Putting the key into my car door, I can still feel his eyes watching me. “So, I guess I will see you tomorrow.”

  He looks unhappy with that. “Can I take you home? You look white as a ghost and I don’t think you should be driving right now.”

  “I’m fine and I have been through worse.”

  He doesn’t budge. I can only presume that was Dixon trying to run me down. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jase, but I have already let a tear slip. I am on the brink of a complete meltdown. I don’t want anybody around me. I know where I need to go. I need to visit the only other person I talk to in the world. The one person who understands and never asks me questions, my tattoo artist. Tattoos are the one secret I can keep that nobody knows about me and the pain gives me a release. I need the pain of the tattoo needle to keep me sane in my messed up little situation.

  Jase is still not budging. “Like I said I’m fine. If you want you could follow me to where you took me yesterday if that would make you feel better?” He reluctantly agrees then follows me down the streets to my house, which isn’t far from the school. I pull over when I think we have gotten close enough. I roll down my window and wave my hand out, signaling that this as close to my home life he is going to get. He pulls up next to me and rolls down his window.

  “Have a good night, Maddie,” he says with a small wave of his hand and an illuminating smile that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand.

  As soon as the coast is clear I make a U-turn and head to the local shops. When my private destination comes in to view, I sigh in relief knowing I’m about to get a much needed fix. The only thing that makes me feel real. It’s a good pain. . I need a release and a beautiful piece is going to go in the spot where I feel the ugliest. Right below my left breast as close to my heart as it can get. I make sure I hide all of my tattoos in places where nobody can see them. They are for me and all I need is another reason for people to look at me like I’m a hideous person. Seeing as I am not even legal yet I shouldn’t have them, but they are all very important pieces of art. At least to me they are.

  Chapter Five

  The feeling I get when I come to this place is serene. I know here I am not judged. Nobody knows who I am here. That is one of the other things I love about coming here. No one knows me except for my tattoo artist.

  I have been thinking of something very important to get this time around. The bell above the door signals that I am here. Mark peers up from the light box he is tracing on and smiles. He doesn’t know about my past, but he understands the solace that the gun brings to me. He knows what it’s like to need the pain. He is the most artistically talented person I have ever seen. All I have to do is explain to him what I am thinking and he gets right to work on designing me what I want. I have never once turned down one of his designs. He always gets it right the first time.

  He comes to the counter that holds all the body jewelry. Although body piercing is not my thing the jewelry almost always catches my eye. When the light shines on them in a certain way the whole glass case sparkles and comes to life. It’s like an endless rainbow of color.

  “So what can I do for you today Mad?”

  He calls me Mad because he knows I can’t stand being called Maddison. One day he called me that and I froze and started shaking violently. I don’t know if it was because of the certain piece he was working on that day that represented my vile soul, but my reaction had obviously scared him. He had asked me several times if I was okay and if I wanted to finish up later. At that time I was too determined to feel the pain and made a huge deal about finishing it and that I was okay and that I really needed it to feel alive. Ever since that day, he’s known how to handle me and knows when I come in here it’s because something has happened.

  I look up from my daydream of memories and give him a smile that I don’t even feel. He marches over to me.

  “Tell me how you are feeling, Mad.”

  “I’m feeling dead. Like I’m on
my way out of this world. I can’t take the shame anymore and I just feel like giving up. I’m done being everybody’s horrid soul-less monster. I think I also might have made a friend, but it doesn’t really matter. It won’t last. He will find out about me and disappear just like the others.”

  In a way, Mark is my own personal verbal punching bag. I can throw this entire word assault at him and he never even flinches. He just absorbs everything I say.

  He turns around, takes a seat at his desk, and starts to work on my next piece. So I take a seat on the old, stained recliner while I wait. It’s an army green color with rips and tears in it. You can feel the springs as soon as you sit down but it doesn’t matter to me because when I am here I feel like I can breathe. Sitting here I always fidget and pick at my nails. Not because I’m scared, but due to awaiting the moment he will be done and will show me what he is about to be permanently etch on my body.

  About twenty minutes later he walks over to me and shows me the drawing he came up with. This time, though, it isn’t a drawing. It’s script of words. I’m not sure they’re working for me. I sit there for a moment reading it over and over again. “Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” It’s a quote by George Iles. Thinking back on my life, I decide it’s perfect.

  I get up give Mark a nod of approval, so he takes me back to his station and starts prepping the machine and sterilizing the table.

  “So, where is this one going?”

  I lift up my shirt and point to the spot directly under my left breast. He asks me to go and take my bra off and then lay down on the table. Most people feel meek about baring their body parts, but to me it’s just skin. It’s not like I’m much to look at, so I really don’t care around him. Plus, it’s not like he is going to be touching me in an intimate way. He lifts my shirt just above the bottom of my breast and starts cleaning the area with antiseptic liquid. It’s arctic to the touch and it makes me shiver involuntarily. As soon as I am comfortable on the table, he puts the design down on my skin and rubs it to transfer it onto my body.