i followed ethan down the busy sidewalk, almost losing him and getting trampled. a small smile creeps onto his face as he holds his hand out to me. i return the gesture and his large hand grips my small one gently. he pulls me into a small restaurant that wasn't far from the art gallery. it only took a few minutes to walk there.
"have you ever been here before?" he asks as we walk hand in hand.
i shake my head as we pass by a "please seat yourself" sign. he guides me to an empty booth and lets go of my hand so we can sit across from each other. the waiter came over and placed 2 menus in front of us. he greeted us and we ordered our drinks before he left.
"do you come here a lot?" i ask, wondering why he chose this restaurant.
"i used to come here all the time."
it was a smaller place, but it was cute. it was vintage and reminded me of a little diner from the 60s.
my nails lightly tap along the table and i watched ethan read through the menu. finally, the waiter came over and interrupted the awkward silence. he set our drinks down on the table before we ordered.
i felt the same way i did in the gallery. i could feel his eyes on me.
i tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as i played with the bright red straw that was in my milkshake, slowly taking a sip. my eyes trailed onto his arms and i examined the tattoos that covered them.
"what do they mean?" i ask bluntly, the words escaping my lips unexpectedly. he hums and furrows his eyebrows as his eyes glued to mine.
"oh, i-i mean you're tattoos."
"oh," he looks down at his arms, "you're so curious, princess," he chuckles.
i've never heard this boy say my name, not once. it's always just 'princess.'
"i have a name, you know."
"i know, elle. but i like princess." he smirks.
i roll my eyes playfully before grabbing his hand and pulling it towards me so i could see his tattoos more clearly. tattoos always amazed me. loving art, i think of them as pieces of art that you can keep forever.
they're full of memories and ideas. you wouldn't permantly mark your skin if the tattoo didn't have meaning behind it.
"god, every time i'd come home with another one, my mom got so pissed." he laughs.
"i want one, but if my mom ever saw me with a tattoo she'd kill me." i state as my fingertips lightly trace one of his tattoos.
ethan simply hums and nods. his eyes watch my finger trace along roses that were skillfully tattooed onto his forearm.
"you like that one?" ethan asks, his bottom lip between his teeth.
"it's beautiful."
"yea? it's my favorite."
just as i was about to ask him why, the waiter comes by with our food. i quickly pull my small hands away and scoot back into the seat. ethan watches me and slowly moves his arm from the table, resting it around the booth.
his eyes glued to mine as the food was placed in front of us. his lip became trapped between his teeth as he watched me before he finally diverted his eyes to the waiter, thanking him quietly.
another smirk creeps onto his face as he bring his shake up to his lips, drinking it slowly as his eyes bored holes into mine.
–
well that's actual trash
