The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky

Chapter 3

Freen Sarocha knew it was wrong to step through the doors of that sushi restaurant, but she did it anyway.

She wanted to talk to Becky Armstrong.

Becky had a strange sense of humor and talked about vaginas as if it were a typical topic of conversation between strangers. Yet, Freen was captivated by her beauty and personality. She had never met someone so full of confidence, with such graceful movements and enigmatic emotions.

She searched for Becky and quickly spotted her, sitting right in the center of the place, elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands, staring at one of the pretty paintings on the wall with a completely expressionless face.

Freen felt a slight tightness in her chest as she realized she wasn't the only one noticing Becky's presence. More than ten men were discreetly eyeing her, which made Freen burn inside, though the reasons for this fire were unclear.

The tattoo artist finally reached the spot where Becky was sitting and took a seat across from her. Immediately, she noticed the men's eyes starting to wander over her as well. It was then that Freen understood Becky had chosen that table for a reason.

She liked being admired. She liked others noticing her incomparable beauty. Freen sighed. She always chose the corner table.

"I knew you'd come," Becky murmured, with what might have been genuine boredom in her voice. She was observing Freen with her piercing green eyes, sunglasses hanging from the pocket of her leather jacket. "That's why I took the liberty of ordering for both of us. I hope you don't mind."

"It doesn't bother me," Freen confirmed, and it was true. She liked Becky's boldness. She liked knowing that Becky wasn't trying to impress her by changing who she was. She liked knowing that Becky was just being herself.

She preferred being with Becky as she was, rather than with Becky trying to act like an angel.

"Good," Becky said with a smile before tilting her head slightly to the right, breaking eye contact with Freen and focusing on something behind her. When Freen followed her gaze, she saw a beautiful panda sliding down bamboo trees perfectly painted on a canvas. It was the painting Becky had been admiring before Freen arrived.

"I painted it," Becky said with pride, and when Freen turned back to look at her, she found her smiling. And it was a genuine smile.

"I didn't think you were into painting," Freen murmured kindly, smiling as she noticed Becky's fingers, still supporting her head. She wondered how many paintings those delicate pale fingers had created, how many hours they had worked to produce pieces like the panda that was barely getting any attention. "I thought you were a woman with... different kinds of businesses."

Of course, Freen had thought she might be a businesswoman, a nightclub worker, a drug lord, or even the leader of a satanic cult...

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Freen shook her head immediately.

"You haven't disappointed me, Becky. This is a pleasant surprise... Maybe we can have drawing contests someday."

"Maybe it would be a draw."

Freen laughed at the possibility and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "What's so funny?"

"Before, at the age of twelve, I was the worst in the art of drawing. The lines of the others were considerably good and mine... mine were disgusting... I had to take art classes for four years to make my drawings what they are now," Freen said with a smile. She was proud of her accomplishments, as was Becky when she saw that painting. Perhaps, deep inside, she and the green-eyed girl weren't that different.