The Pitiful Story That Is Ace Miller

"I like your tattoo."

Strong fingers pushed away the hair covering my collarbone, exposing the skin so the same fingers brushed lightly against it, seeming to almost trace a pattern. The way his fingertips glided across my skin was gentle, almost in a way that implied a secret deeply hidden that I wasn't meant to know about.

The calloused fingers tracing my warm skin snapped me out of the small daze I became entrapped in, and the fact that I didn't have a tattoo.

"What are you talking about? I don't have-" My voice was filled with confusion and slight irritation, yet when I turned to acknowledge him, he had vanished.

••••••••••

When the blue-footed booby bird prepares for a mate it creates an entrancing, slightly awkward, dance made to attract potential partners that says, "hey you! You're mine." If the possible partner agrees, then they happily move on together.

If only it had been that simple for Ace Miller and Virginia Teeter at their first encounter as teens. Years later after said encounter, their paths intertwine once more. Virginia has a strict grandmother, who spends the weekend praying away supernatural beings from her home and watching long hours of Oprah reruns. Ace has a younger brother who spends his time partying and baking cookies with his best friend, Virginia. Coincidence?

It wasn't a twist in fate, a miracle, or a prayer that bound the two together in a tale of conspiracies swirling with unknown messages.

Ace belongs to Virginia, and Virginia belongs to Ace.

Like stated previously, if only it were that simple.