Chapter 2 - It Feels Like I'm Trying To Eat Air

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.Chapter 2 - It Feels Like I'm Trying To Eat Air.

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| e l l a |

"You have a tattoo?"

I still for a second, then decide to act as though I didn't hear the question.

But the person who asked it seems pretty curious, because he asks again.

"Ella, is that really a tattoo on your waist?"

"Yes, it is, Michael," I say, trying not to sound too snappy. After all, it's not rude to ask whether I have a tattoo or not. But maybe Michael is hell bent on vexing me, because he then asks:

"What is it?"

His questions are probably audible to the entire table, because in a matter of seconds, everyone's eyes are on me.

"Tattoo?"

"Ella has a tattoo?"

"You sneaky girl, what is it?"

"It's nothing." I blush a little in embarrassment, aware of the sudden attention towards me.

Subconsciously, I wonder how Michael even saw it, given that I had it inked in a place that would not be visible to everyone easily, unless I took off my top. And as far as I'm aware, I'm very much dressed right now.

"Come on, show us," Lara, one of my good friends insists, jumping a little in her seat, as though I'm going to show her something heavenly. Doesn't she have a couple, herself?

"No." I shake my head firmly.

The tattoo is something very special to me as I had inked it with an intention of surprising someone. It was inked only for that person to see and touch.

And kiss, adds my sly subconscious.

Revealing such a personal thing in public is something which I'm not ready to do.

"How did you even see it?" I question Michael, who's sitting next to me, searching his eyes for a hint of use of mischief or trickery as his means, but they look back into mine with genuineness.

"Actually, I... you took off your jacket and your t-shirt rode up. I just caught a glimpse of something black."

By the time he's done, his face is a light shade of pink, and my stomach flips like an omlette.

"What is it?" Lara prodes again. "Something badass and totally unlike you, like a dragon or something?"

My stomach flutters.

Why dragon? Why does she have to say dragon? There are so many ferocious animals like the tiger or the lion; but no, she has to think of a dragon.

"No, not a dragon," I say, close to whispering, my heart beating faster than usual in my chest. "It's..."

"Show us," Lara pleads again, and under the pressure of five sets of eyes on me, I have no choice but to lift my top, pull down my jeans a little, along with my panties, and disclose two small letters etched in a simple cursive writing on my waist.

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