Laura's POV
A warmth encloses my left hand in its hold, and softly follows the lines on the palm of my hand. Inaudible at first, then gradually increasing volumes into a whisper, I hear a male voice calling my name.
"Laura," it murmurs gently, drowsily coaxing me out of an unconscious sleep.
I lift my eyelids until they're half-open, staring at an unfocused figure. Propping my right elbow up to hold my weight, I reach for my glasses on the nightstand and blink to clearly see the blond I can't get out of my head.
"Ross? What are you doing here?" I brush my fingers through my hair, "We're going running today, right?"
He begins to nod, but my question interrupts him, "Isn't it still dark out?" I steal a glance at the clock to read the neon green numbers, "Oh my gosh, Ro-oss!" I make sure to agonizingly enunciate his name in two syllables, "It's not even 6 AM yet. Why did you wake me up?"
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and breathes slowly, trying but failing to get some words out.
"I told you, it's too early," I reason, "I'm going to sleep some more. You can take the other side of the bed while you wait, just don't wake me."
Ross blinks his eyes from mine and stares down at my hand. In an instant, I recognize it's my left hand, and immediately withdraw it from his grasp. My breathing quickens as I begin to wonder if he stole a look at my hand while I was asleep.
A few jumbled sounds fall from Ross's lips at incomprehensible decibels, "Two," is all he can get out for me to hear clearly.
I lean in closer to him, "Two what?"
He lifts his head up to find my eyes as if they're a thought-provoking piece in an art museum, "Not 'two'," Ross replies slowly, "Tattoo."
My stomach falls.
"You have one," he accuses me, but not in the courtroom drama type of way. Rather, it's compassionate, and understanding, "On your left hand."
Ross takes my hand into his again, but I don't resist it. I'm paralyzed—about as utile as a health class dummy.
He leans in closer to me, so much so that I can feel his exhales tingle on my lips. A warmth moves on my finger, pulling me out of my trance. I tear my eyes from his gaze and follow his finger brushing over the ink on my hand.
He caresses my hand in his, grazing the pads of his fingers over it as if my hand is painted glass, "Why didn't you tell me?"
I blink back the apprehension, "I didn't want... when I came home, I was so..." the words fail me.
Ross doesn't have to say what I know already. He wants an explanation, but he'll wait as long as it takes until I'm ready to tell him. Out of all the emotions he's feeling right now, the last one on the list is disappointment.
"Why did you get it?" Ross lifts himself from the ground and sits beside me on my bed, never once letting go of my hand, "Is it... for me?" his voice shakes at that last part.
Swallowing hard, I use all my strength to find my words, "I didn't mean for it to be for you," I watch his eyes darken as the corners of his lips fall subtly. His hand nearly draws away from mine completely before I add, "I meant it to be for us."
Ross brightens up, lifting his head to lock eyes with me while searching for any hint of a lie in them.
"I owe you an explanation, don't I," I state rhetorically, "It's for us, and for what we've been through. I know I put us through hell when I agreed to be your girlfriend, but I intended for the tattoo to represent how we were... before."
I stumble over the last part, unsure of whether or not it's safe to mention. Ross slightly bobs his head in acknowledgement, but we both know how hard it is to think of how different we were together before we dated.
"I will admit," I add, with optimism lining my words, "London helped me figure out more than I anticipated."
Ross's can't seem to look at me straight, "What do you mean?" his eyes go down my body to my hand.
"I mean," I hesitate, biting back the truth for a moment.
What I say next will be the same mistake Ross made with me. It's a make or break situation, and I don't know if he'll lie to me just as I did to him—but I don't care anymore, and again it's just as how he must've felt when we started dating.
"I mean, you," I take my left hand and cup his chin to look at me. A word starts to emerge from his lips, but I place my thumb over them before he can get the full word out. If I let him ask questions, I'll never tell him, "When I went in to make an appointment for the tattoo, they told me that if I wanted a tattoo, it would be best to get what matters most to me. Thinking it over, I thought it was my dance career," I let out a sigh, "It's not that at all. I had so many other possibilities for a career; I could've gone to college like you, I could've gotten a degree and a job," I draw my face back a bit. My breath heaves before I add in, "The one thing I only had one chance with was with you."
Ross stutters over his words to try and respond, "What? What do you mean? Just because we couldn't go back to being friends right away after we broke up doesn't mean we'll never be the same us we were before."
I shake my head at his misinterpretation. How badly I both want and don't want him to understand, "I don't regret being your girlfriend. I regret how I didn't recognize the one chance I had with you," the wheels in Ross's head start to turn, "I never had anyone care for me the way you did when we were dating. And I'll probably never have anything like it again, because I blew my chance."
Ross's lips part, and I'm not sure if he's pleased with what I said or not. My hand's touch on his chin weakens, and noticing its movement, he takes my hand into his own to smooth his thumb over my ring finger's skin, teasingly. Ross tugs at my wrists to shrink the distance between us, concealing a smile underneath, but I know it's there, "Are you saying—"
I interrupt, afraid of what he could say before I get a chance to explain fully, "I thought this tattoo would always keep the memories of the former us with me, instead of the memories from the period of time when I rejected even considering accepting your love for me," I prop my pillow against the headboard and sit back against it with my legs stretched out. It's farther from Ross, but I don't think it's safe for me to be that close to him, "I'm really sorry. And even sorrier now that I feel something for you when you don't for me."
Ross follows behind me across the bed until his hands are on either side of my hips. He finds my hands in my lap and raises them so they fall around the back of his neck. Ross smiles wide but with his lips barely parted, and shrinks the distance between us, "I just fell in love with you all over again," he says, swinging an arm around my back and bringing my lips to masterfully meet his for what feels like the first time.
***
What's up what's up
School has started and I am stressed once again. Summer please come back I miss you.
In other news Laura filmed a freaking music video this week and also I'm dying to know what Calum's announcement is. I have a theory it might be related to Laura's music but idkkk. Can we just appreciate how "soon" translates to 2 years.
Really hyped for caos ahhh so good but also probably won't watch until winter break ugh school.
Also help me get into college I'm literally not going to get in anywhere *cries*
Pray I am not too stressed and can update chapter 19 !
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Steph (yesifeelgoodr5)
YOU ARE READING
Like a Tattoo (Raura)
FanfictionI'll admit. He's got irresistible looks, and he's a damn good friend. In fact, we're so close, it's almost like he's my tattoo. There's just one problem to all of this: he's my friend. Why would he want to risk our friendship by asking me out? And e...
