Perfect Collision (23 page)

“Dad?”

“Yes, honey?”

“How do you know if you’re in love?”

He put his book down and looked at his daughter. “You know.” He clenched his fist and tapped it against his chest. “Here. You just know.”

“I think I'm in love with him.” She looked at him hesitantly. “Is this weird for you?”

“No, it's not,” he said and then thought about it. It
wasn't
weird for him. He quite liked to hear her say it. “I think it's good. I know you, you don't like all that many people, and if you can find someone you do like, or love, it's a good thing.”

“Things are just
too
good. It feels like it can’t last, do you know what I mean? It’s not just Mac, it’s work, too. I’ll be done with school soon and,” she shook her head, “it can’t last. There’s too many good things at once.”

“Baby, ever thought that the shitty first sixteen years means you’ve kind of earned this?”

“Maybe.”

“As for work, you’ve worked so hard for it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Despite working as much as you have, you’ve still kept up with school and taken care of your old man.” She smiled when he said that. “Enjoy it. It’s years of hard work and dedication paying off.”

“He said he’s in love with me. Think he means it?”

“Honey, look at me.” When she did, he caught her gaze. “When he came and talked to me about you two, he said he was in love with you, and he meant it. I know he did.”

“It’s just hard to believe. He’s... good looking, older, and I’ve seen the girls at the club.”

“Katze, you don’t see yourself very clearly. And to guys like Mac, that easy thing... it's not what he wants. He's never been much for it. He's always been about girls like you, girls you can trust to stick around through the bad times as well as the good. And speaking from experience, you’re nice to be around.”

“Dad! Come one, I hardly talk to people. I sit like this and draw all the time.”

“Yeah, when you’re around people you don’t know well, but trust me, you’re nice to be around.”

She studied him for a while before smiling. “Have I ever told you what a great dad you are?”

He looked at her, feigning surprise. “No! Never!”

She laughed, and he was pretty fucking pleased to have been able to do that.

“He’s not messing around with you, honey. About any of it. You two are serious as a heart attack to him. He wouldn’t have gone there if it wasn’t.”

“Okay. We’re going to an exhibition and maybe a movie today.”

“Good. Be home by eleven.”

“I will.”

She returned to her sketchbook, and he watched her for a while. It really was a pity she was so shy. It meant few people got the privilege to get to know her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

It's Not Gentle

-o0o-

MAC WAS ON HIS
back underneath me as I straddled his hips. Next to us was my set of waterproof markers, and I leaned over him while drawing on his chest.

The past month, since I pointed out how the ink on his upper body was unbalanced, we'd done this often. It had been his suggestion, and was a great idea, since there wasn't any hurry with the tattoo. It gave me a chance to experiment. He might've suggested it, but he was still complaining about it tickling, and he often grabbed my hips to thrust his boner against me. I liked that last part, though.

It was all good. We worked as a couple even in ways I hadn't expected. Like talking. We talked for real and it wasn’t hard for me. Most often, I had problems with keeping up a normal conversation with people, but not with him. I’d been nervous about it in the beginning. That there would be those long awkward silences, and he’d realize I was boring as hell when I didn’t have my tongue in his mouth. He didn't seem to think I was boring at all.

We'd had sex for a month, and he was still so gentle and never pushed. If I just hinted I was uncomfortable, he stopped. But it didn't happen often.

“I'm bored,” he sighed.

“You're fussing worse than when I inked you!”

“When you inked me it didn't tickle, and back then I was mostly glad to be close to you no matter what we did. These days I can think of more fun things to do when we're together.”

“This is fun.”

“To you, maybe. To me it's torture, since you're tickling me while rubbing yourself against my dick.” I wiggled my ass, and he groaned. “Such a fucking tease.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

When I reached for another pen, he ran his hands along my sides under my t-shirt, and further up to flick my nipples with his thumbs.

“Are you going to do that when we're doing this for real?”

“I'll do it as often as I can get away with it.”

He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back down after a kiss.

“Just one more color, and then we can snap a picture.”

We took pictures of the different designs to compare what part he liked, what worked, and what didn't work.

I figured out a few more things to add at the last minute, and Mac let me. I'd loved doing this since the first time, and he knew it, so even if he nagged sometimes, he usually let me keep going until I considered it finished. It felt intimate in a different way. I'd done sketches directly on people for ink a few times, but this was different.

“You're cute when you're focused,” Mac said when I moved down to sit on the bed.

“Go and have a look, then I'll take a picture.”

He came back not long after with a big smile on his face. “This is great.”

“It's okay. Still some things I'd like to change. We'll do more of them.”

He got down on the bed and pulled me closer, laying us both down while kissing me.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Quarter past ten. We have to go soon.”

“I'm going to work after school tomorrow. I need to set up a schedule for December, but I can call when I'm done.”

“Do that. How does it feel to have real customers?”

I loved it. Strangely, I didn't stutter and blush when I talked to them. Dad said it was because the conversation was about the customer and not about me. He was probably right.

“It's great. I do a lot of small stuff, but Sami has let me ink some bigger things on his a few of his friends.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were getting a station.” He held my chin and tilted my head up. “I only found out when I came to pick you up.”

“I... I don't know.” I didn't have a good answer, and I wondered if this was something he'd thought about for the past month. And if so, what other things had he been thinking about? “I don't know, Mac.”

I probably
should've
told him, but I wasn't exactly used to talking about what was going on in my life. I tried again when he kept looking at me.

“Only one I ever talked to before was Dad,” I said with a sigh. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said. “Just tell me stuff. Include me a little in your plans and... just talk. I like to hear what you think about things.”

“Okay. I'll try,” I said and pressed my nose to his chest. “Think we can go out this weekend? Movie or something?”

“I’m going on a run, but I’ll be back on Sunday afternoon if a Sunday movie is okay.”

I’d grown up in the club; I knew how things worked. I hadn't brought it up the last time he left, but since he'd said we should talk about things...

“Mac, when you’re on runs...”

I felt his hand on my nipple, the one with my piercing. He really liked that piercing, and he seemed to always prefer playing with that one rather than the other.

“I’m sticking to my hand.” He kissed my forehead. “Even if your dad wouldn’t kill me if I did some shit, which he would, I’d still stick to my hand. I wouldn’t do that to you, Katze.”

“Want me draw you some pictures of me so you have something to look at while you're using your hand?” I was teasing him, but I was relieved.

“Rather snap some pics with my phone.”

“No!”

“You can keep your clothes on.”

“I look like a retard on pics.”

“Very much doubt that. If you want, I can model while you draw new pictures of me.”

“I don't need to see you to do that anymore.”

“You could always draw me in your journal,” he mumbled as he pulled me closer, nuzzling my neck. “Your black sketchbook.”

“Have you been watching me?” I smiled and gave him a kiss.

“Oh, yeah. Past year. You’re not the only one who’s been crushing.”

His hands came up to hold my cheeks, and I was probably staring. It was hard to believe him. “Since when?”

“Since around the time I suggested you'd become a tattoo artist, but I knew you'd been crushing longer.”

“You knew?”

“Yeah.”

“That's embarrassing.”

“No, it's not. Just means you're smarter than me, since you knew we'd be great together.”

That was a sweet thing to say, but I was still baffled. It felt unreal. That he'd been crushing, too. That our first kiss didn't come out of nowhere.

“You should've told me when I told you I'd been crushing.”

“Yeah, I probably should've,” he admitted. “Guess we both need to work on the telling each other stuff.”

-o0o-

Mac was pissed beyond words and stood in front of Vi in her dad's hallway. She had her arms crossed over her chest and stared at him defiantly.

She'd been in the middle of cooking when he came, and the fight had started almost immediately. While kissing her hello, he'd asked her when she had the next night off, and she'd told she didn't have any in the coming weeks, except for the weekend of her mother's visit.

“We talked about it,
yesterday
, how you should talk to me more, include me in your plans, and then you go and do this!”

“It's my
job
! I need to work as much as possible to get the experience!”

She went to school in the morning, to Wicked ink directly after, and if he was lucky he got a few hours in the evening. It was, however, more likely the only time he saw her was when he gave her a ride home. It wasn't often she got out of work until around nine.

“I know, but when the fuck are we supposed to see each other? You have a curfew!”

“Thanks a fucking lot for bringing that up!” She yelled “Like I don't feel bad enough about that as it is! We have sex, and then you take me home like I'm some fucking sweetbutt!”

He couldn't fucking believe she'd just said that! “Thanks a lot, sweetheart. That makes me feel
really
special, hearing I treat you like a sweetbutt!”

“Imagine how special I feel, then.”

He noticed her crying, but he was too pissed to care. Hearing her say he treated her like a sweetbutt was just too much, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Where to even start!

“I can't fucking believe you,” he finally said, and he turned away from her to try to calm down. When he noticed a smell from the kitchen, he looked at her again, and she was still glaring at him. “Something's burning,” he muttered.

With a curse, she disappeared into the kitchen, and he waited in the hallway. But she didn't come back, and eventually he went to find her. She was sitting on the floor with her face hidden in her hands, she was crying, and the frying pan was still on the stove.

“Fuck! Baby, I'm sorry,” he said and pulled the frying pan to the side before sitting down next to her. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't like to fight. I can't handle it well,” she sobbed. “I don't know how to react when you're angry.”

“You did good, very impressive yelling.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “Think so?”

“Absolutely.” He took her hand and gave her knuckles a kiss. “So what's the work you have coming?” he asked in an attempt to calm her down. She liked talking about her work, and it seemed to be helping this time as well.

“Meat tags. They had a drive at the Air Force Base, and we all signed up to do them.”

That made him feel like an ass. Meat tags were tattooed dog tags. Soldiers did them on the side of their torso to make sure they could be identified no matter what. So, his girl would do meat tags for pilots, and he was acting like a bitch about it.

“You don't get paid for those, do you?” Most artists did meat tags for free or for a nominal sum.

“No,” she mumbled. “It's practice, and it might help them come home. Sami asked us since he's been a soldier. It's a favor to him, too.”

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Just talk to me, let me know what you're planning. You don't tell me half of what's going on, and I don't mean when I can see you, but things like you becoming an actual artist, you didn't even tell me that.”

“Sorry, I'm not used to talking. Dad usually forces it out of me, like, sits me down and tells me to talk.”

“I'll try that.” It made sense. That was probably the only way to get her to talk, flat out ask her. She wasn't much for bringing things up on her own accord. “What does he say to get you started?”

“Fill me in.”

“Good to know.” He kissed her temple. “Saying I make you feel like a sweetbutt—that hurt, Katze.”

“I'm sorry. It’s just, I feel childish, and... Mom. That she's coming. I'm worried, and mostly I'm fed up with not being able to stay the night.”

He sighed and pulled her closer to him. He wasn't sure how to make her feel better about any of it.

“It sucks for me, too, when I take you home every night, but only because I’d like to have you in my bed all the fucking time. You want me to talk to Bear about this?”

“Yeah, but I'll give it a try first. Think it's better if I do it... and easier, too.” She turned to him. Mac was pretty damn sure it was more likely Vi would be able to change Bear's mind. “I love working. I
need
to do it, and I... I love it there.”

“I know!” He felt bad about having complained, because he knew she loved her job. “I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”