Everything felt so good and right. After days of fighting, she and Eric were grinning at each like fools with only a table between them; she was happily sated with a pretty good meal, the hint of strawberries still filling her mouth; and she was reviewing her very good memories of that brunette, organizing how to tell Eric the story so as to get the biggest and most rewarding effect. This was going to be great.
Strange how she could go from gloating to somber so quickly.
The sea-green ink was so faded that from a distance, on a stranger, Amber wouldn't have really noticed. But on Eric... For all the distance he put between himself and his brother, it sure did always seem to come back to Marcus. Maybe he was in jail, but he was here in Eric's history, mind, and body. A shiver ran all over Amber, raising the hairs on her body. If Marcus was the symbol of what Eric feared becoming, then Eric carried that reminder very close to his heart. "He was right about one thing-- you never did forget him," Amber said more to herself than to him.
Amber lightly traced the circle the tattoo formed with her free hand, trying to imagine the boy-- for as a teenager boy embarking on college, Eric would have been no more than that-- who imprinted this on himself. The inked skin wasn't quite as smooth as the rest of his inner arm. His second tattoo. As far as Amber had seen and noticed, he had three-- so one before and one after. What were those about?
But one tattoo a time. Amber stopped drawing its outline and rubbed her hand along his arm; her arousal, summoned a few minutes ago, deepened at the reminder of previous the times she'd touched Eric like this. It was strange to feel that desire coiling inside even as she struggled to understand the extent of Eric's grief and regret. She looked up into his rich, brown eyes. Casual acceptance and resentment warred in his expression, raised eyebrows contradicting how tightly and thinly his lips were stretched. "Do you know what it means?"
It felt wrong to launch into how she'd had her eye on a girl at campus, and how they came together at a party, right after this more somber memory. Like bringing party hats to a funeral. So Amber was grateful when their waitress arrived just then, two new steaming mugs of coffee clenched in either hand. Amber nodded at the girl to leave them on the table; she did so, long dark tresses falling over as she leaned to put the mugs down. Amber studied her for a second; her face was too round and her cheeks too high to really look like that other girl from so long ago.
The pause made it seem less strange to start, so Amber tried, her hands still all over Eric. "I was in my second semester at college--" But it wasn't right now, either. Just a few feet away, Eric was too far away; she wanted to whisper to him, if need be, and watch up close his facial shifts. Amber got up and, walking round the table, slid next to him, her body against his. She grinned and squeezed his thigh once, the silk of his trousers wonderfully sensual. "Sorry, where was I?"
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Strange how she could go from gloating to somber so quickly.
The sea-green ink was so faded that from a distance, on a stranger, Amber wouldn't have really noticed. But on Eric... For all the distance he put between himself and his brother, it sure did always seem to come back to Marcus. Maybe he was in jail, but he was here in Eric's history, mind, and body. A shiver ran all over Amber, raising the hairs on her body. If Marcus was the symbol of what Eric feared becoming, then Eric carried that reminder very close to his heart. "He was right about one thing-- you never did forget him," Amber said more to herself than to him.
Amber lightly traced the circle the tattoo formed with her free hand, trying to imagine the boy-- for as a teenager boy embarking on college, Eric would have been no more than that-- who imprinted this on himself. The inked skin wasn't quite as smooth as the rest of his inner arm. His second tattoo. As far as Amber had seen and noticed, he had three-- so one before and one after. What were those about?
But one tattoo a time. Amber stopped drawing its outline and rubbed her hand along his arm; her arousal, summoned a few minutes ago, deepened at the reminder of previous the times she'd touched Eric like this. It was strange to feel that desire coiling inside even as she struggled to understand the extent of Eric's grief and regret. She looked up into his rich, brown eyes. Casual acceptance and resentment warred in his expression, raised eyebrows contradicting how tightly and thinly his lips were stretched. "Do you know what it means?"
It felt wrong to launch into how she'd had her eye on a girl at campus, and how they came together at a party, right after this more somber memory. Like bringing party hats to a funeral. So Amber was grateful when their waitress arrived just then, two new steaming mugs of coffee clenched in either hand. Amber nodded at the girl to leave them on the table; she did so, long dark tresses falling over as she leaned to put the mugs down. Amber studied her for a second; her face was too round and her cheeks too high to really look like that other girl from so long ago.
The pause made it seem less strange to start, so Amber tried, her hands still all over Eric. "I was in my second semester at college--" But it wasn't right now, either. Just a few feet away, Eric was too far away; she wanted to whisper to him, if need be, and watch up close his facial shifts. Amber got up and, walking round the table, slid next to him, her body against his. She grinned and squeezed his thigh once, the silk of his trousers wonderfully sensual. "Sorry, where was I?"