The Beauty in Time

21

◿𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠◸

I think it's a little pathetic that I now have a calendar hung up in my room, but honestly, how else would I keep track of the weeks that crawl by agonizingly slowly.

We're halfway through four months today. September fifteenth. I've found that the twelfth of January is a Friday, a great day to ask her somewhere. In the meantime, we hang out platonically, text platonically, cuddle platonically, and occasionally kiss.

Platonically.

It's easier to hang out platonically when it's not just the two of us, and I think Elle recognizes it too. That might be why she invites me to her friend's house with her instead of inviting me over to hers alone. Which probably would've made more sense since I don't know Elle's friends. Especially the way she does.

I feel slightly out of place when sitting in the living room with the three friends along with an extra guy who is also sort of just sitting here. He introduced himself as Pat, Jamie's fiancé.

It does feel like we're both in the same position though. We're here for the one we really want to be here for. Even though I'm here for her, I still have the strange need to really try to hit it off with the others in hopes that they accept me as a good match for their friend. I know Elle likes me, but it never does hurt to also have a great friendship with her friends too.

Luckily, they seem to take pity on me when they sense my awkwardness. She described her friends to me as strange. I laughed and told her she and her friends were not strange, but now I'm starting to think that they might actually live up to the title that Elle so proudly gave them.

"So," Tory leans forward from their spot on the floor across the coffee table from me and Elle on the couch. Jamie sits on her fiancé's lap on a different couch, leaving the other open for Tory. Tory doesn't want that chair though. "How many tattoos do you have?" They bluntly question, terribly hiding that teasing edge in their expression and tone.

"Tory," Elle grits out her warning.

Tory seems to have a fascination with my tattoos. A common one and something I've learned to be used to.

"There are a few." I vaguely answer with a nod. I don't know exactly what they want from me. "Most are random." I admit.

"How far down do they go?"

Elle's attention snaps to Tory. "Tory!" She squeals, mortified. Jamie's hand lands over her mouth to hide her laughter while Tory starts to laugh maniacally.

I laugh that one off. Elle seems horrified enough without my encouraging answer, so I leave it alone. "Where did you get them?" Jamie asks more normal questions, still laughing a little under her breath.

"The place I used to work." I answer. "I've gotten a couple at the new one I work at though." I add absently. They were small and mostly because I lost a bet at work.

Tory perks up immediately. "Do you do them?" They question. When I nod, a sort of scary grin starts to cross their face. "So, you could do my tattoo." They conclude.

"If you wanted me to."

"Oh, I want you to." Tory assures quickly.

"Tory," Elle scolds again in a tired huff. "Stop sexually harassing my friend."

Tory gasps. "What about my sentence was sexual?" They question, pretending to be horrified. I smile as I look over at Elle to see what she'll say to that. Elle only narrows her eyes at Tory. Tory giggles but seems to let it go with the way they don't continue. Elle glances at me with an apologetic look that I just smile at, unbothered.