Complicated Page 8

  "I'm fine," he insists, pouting a little and I rest my hand on the chair, the side of my hand pressing against his hip slightly. Okay, so sometimes I'm a hypocrite...

  He doesn't look at me this time but his face relaxes a little, waiting for the man to put the final touches of ink in before allowing him to look at it.

  "Done," the guy says, setting the gun down and Harry cocks his head to the side, a dimpled grin spreading wide across his face.

  "Pretty cool, huh?" he asks me and I nod, smiling a little at his enthusiasm, watching as his leg gets wrapped in saran wrap.

  "Okay," the man finally announces, pulling off his gloves and grabbing another pair. "You're next."

  "What?" I ask, my eyes widening a little. "What...no...no, seriously. Like, no!"

  "Scarlett," Niall says, sighing. "Just do it. For once in your life don't think. Just do it."

  And I can't help but glance at Harry when he says this. Spontaneity seems be a theme for me as of late. Harry just grins at me as he says, "It wouldn't be the first time."

  My eyes widen and the guys all turn to look at him quizzically. The smile slides off his face when he realizes what he has said and he stutters slightly, trying to explain himself.

  "I mean...um...you know...like—"

  "Okay, I'll do it," I interrupt and all eyes snap from Harry to me in an instant. Victorious cheers fill the room and I feel hands patting me on the back and shoulders.

  "Alright, let's get you set up," the man grins.

  "The other guy can do her," Harry says harshly, glaring at him but the man seems undeterred.

  "Yeah, I can do her," the other tattoo artist offers.

  Harry's head whips towards him, his eyes wide. I can't help but giggle, covering my mouth with my hand, a little embarrassed. Harry scowls deeply, whether from the loss of my touch against his hip or from the guy's racy comment, I'm not sure. He opens his mouth to say something but I drop my hand from my mouth, leaning hard onto his wrist.

  "Oh, sorry," I say when he yelps and I pull away from him, eyes lingering on his, admonishing him silently before looking away again.

  "Nah, Scott's still workin' on your friend," the first guys tells Harry and I can't help but smile a little at his obvious flirtation. "I got this."

  Harry is sitting back now, arms crossed over his chest, obviously sulking. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but part of me likes his possessiveness. No man I've ever been with has ever been so protective of me. It's kind of endearing in an annoying sort of way.

  "What do I have to do?" I ask, my stomach flipping, and the guys leans over, pulling out a clipboard. I can't believe I'm fucking doing this.

  "Just sign on the dotted line."

  I eye the paper, skimming the legal agreement before signing my name at the bottom, my stomach flipping again as I hand it back to him. I seriously can not believe I'm doing this.

  "Okay...Scarlett," the man says, smiling at me and holding out his hand, "I'm Dom." I shake his hand and smile back nervously, ignoring Harry's huff of displeasure. "What can I do for you today?"

  "Well..." I say with a sigh, "I guess something in ancient Greek."

  Dom nods his head. "Do you have a sample or something? I don't know any ancient Greek."

  "Oh, I do," I say, nodding. "Do you have a pen and paper?"

  He raises his eyebrows, surprised. "I do."

  "Wait..." It's Zayn, who's still laying across the table. I turn to find him laying back with his hand over his eyes. "You know Greek?"

  "Ancient Greek," I say, taking the pen and paper that Dom is offering me, my hands shaking a little. This is insane.

  "Oh," Niall says smarmily, sharing a look with Liam and Zayn, "Ancient Greek."

  "There's a difference!" I say defensively as I look at the paper and try and think of a good word to get branded on my body for the rest of my life. "I don't know what it should say."

  "What about 'art'?" Liam suggests.

  "Scholar!" Niall exclaims. "Khefren used to call you Scarlett the Scholar!"

  "That's stupid," Harry mutters and the guys look at him a little bewildered. He peers at the floor, his ears pinkening.

  "What's your problem, Curly?" Zayn asks, eyeing him, his voice suggesting that he can't hold back the question any longer. "You've been a pissy bitch today."

  "Yeah," Niall agrees, smiling. "Your hair frizzing more than usual?"

  "Fuck you," Harry replies, scowling, his pout deepening as he flattens a hand over his hair nervously.

  "Confucius say that a cranky virgin doesn't get laid," Niall teases, poking Harry in the ribs. Harry smacks his hands away impatiently.

  "Wisdom!" I suddenly announce, leaning over the table to write out the word.

  "What the hell is that?" Zayn asks, snatching the paper from me.

  "That's sigma, omicron, psi, iota, chi," I say, pointing to each symbol as I read it. "You just—"

  "Don't," Liam says, putting his hand on my arm and shaking his head. "Don't try to explain it. Zayn's head will explode."

  Zayn gives Liam a condescending smile as I hand the paper to Dom, who eyes it approvingly. I bite my lip, my stomach flipping over. I'm going to have this on my body for the rest of my life...the rest of my life.

  "Very cool," Dom says after a moment. "Just gimme a sec to trace this up and we'll be ready to go."

  I shift nervously, sitting on the edge of the padded table. I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm never this spontaneous.

  Harry is standing in front of me, glaring at Dom's retreating form and then he looks down at me. Yeah, spontaneity seems to be my new thing. "You don't have to do this," he tells me, reaching out for me and I give an inconspicuous shake of my head that has him snatching his hand back.

  "I'm fine," I say stiffly, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously.

  Harry shifts his feet and steps closer to me, his leg pressing into my knee. I sigh. We really need to stop doing this.

  "Heyyyy!" Niall exclaims as Louis makes his way cautiously into the door again, face still tense. "You ready for yours?"

  Scott, who had been cleaning up his area, grins and revs his tattoo gun. Louis's face blanches completely and he sways ominously, swallowing hard.

  "Um...I think...I think I'm gonna pass," he says shakily and the rest of the group moans in protest.

  "Come on you big pussy!" Zayn exclaims, throwing his arm around him, jostling him roughly. "Even Scarlett's getting a little ink."

  Louis looks at me a little bewildered and I smile weakly back at him. I suddenly feel Harry settle on the table next to me, his knee leaning against mine, his hip pressed against me. I feel his chin rest on my shoulder and I fight the urge to let my eyes slide shut. I shouldn't let him do this but his body is so warm and fuck if I don't want him right now. I jump when I feel his hand on my thigh and I elbow him lightly in the ribs.

  "Watch your hands there, Harry." It's Louis that says it and we both look up startled.

  Harry sits up reluctantly and I shift away from him a little and try to look anywhere but at Louis's piercing gaze. This is why I didn't want to do this...

  "Okay Scarlett," Dom finally says, coming back and holding a thin strip of tracing paper. I stand from the table to look at him and he grins at me playfully as he says, "Drop your pants."

  My jaw drops instead and the guys burst into laughter...all except Harry, who looks like he could kill Dom with his bare hands. But Dom doesn't seem to notice, wiggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.

  "We can take it in the back if you don't want an audience," Dom adds, his eyes flitting to the five other guys in the room.

  "No, she can do it here," Harry says flatly and my head whips towards him, finding him staring coldly at Dom.

  "What the fuck is your problem, man?" Zayn asks for the second time and Harry crosses his arms over his chest, not responding.

  "No, its fine," I say quickly and all eyes are on me again. Shit.

  "Alright then," Dom says before I have a chance to change my min
d and he's grinning at me. "Drop em."

  I purse my lips at him, glaring playfully as my hands go down to the button on my jeans. Zayn and Niall catcall me a little and I give them a cheeky smile over my shoulder. I see Harry move to stand next to them, crossing his arms over his chest in a scowl.

  "Aw girl, you're gonna have to push 'em down lower than that," Dom grins, as he pops on his latex gloves.

  I feel my face burn a little as the guys snigger, Harry still glaring, but his eyes trained on my waist as I shimmy a little, pushing my jeans down low on my hips, revealing my underwear...shit...my lacy-I-may-be-getting-some-later underwear. Dom holds my hand as I hop up on the table, laying back. Then Zayn and Niall burst into laughter and Harry shifts uncomfortably, glancing from my exposed flesh to the floor and back again. My face reddens even more. Laughter is not something you want to hear from guys when you're laying on a table in your underwear.

  "Check it out, Harry," Zayn teases, nudging him. "She's wearing your favorite color."

  I look down at myself as Dom lays the stencil against my skin and I see my underwear, a lacy scrap of baby blue fabric peeking out from my open jeans. My eyes flit to Harry and he's staring glassily at my exposed flesh, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. Shit, maybe I'm not the only one who gets unintentionally turned on these days.

  "S-s-shut up," Harry stutters.

  "May I?" Dom asks, his fingers reaching for the waistband of my panties and my head snaps to him, alarmed. "I'm just gonna roll the band down a little," he adds gently, pulling his hands back and opening his palms to me, "If that's okay, I mean this was where you pointed to earlier..."

  "No, its fine," I say, nodding my head nervously and I feel his gloved fingers roll the waistband over itself, exposing more of my flesh. Fuck, maybe I should have gone in the backroom.

  "Whats the matter, Curly?" Niall teases and I look to find Harry staring resolutely at the ground. "Oh yeah, you've never seen girly parts like these before, huh?"

  I do my best to mask my blush and I try to concentrate on Dom wiping my lower stomach with antiseptic, the coolness causing goosebumps to ripple out over my body. I can't believe I'm doing this.

  "Shut the fuck up, dude," Harry grumbles and I chance a look at him, finding his face flushed, looking at the ground, eyes flitting to my face every once and awhile as he shifts uncomfortably.

  "Okay, how's that?" Dom asks, leaning back so I can look down my body at myself.

  And there it is. Wisdom in ancient Greek, just below my panty line. It will probably be half obscured by my underwear when it's done, only viewable to me and—I chance a look at Harry—those I'm intimate with. It's actually kind of cute. Some of my anxiety quells for a moment before coming back full force. This is going to be here for the rest of my life.

  "We can reposition it if you want," Dom says and I snap out of my daze.

  "What do you guys think?" I ask uneasily, seriously considering calling this ridiculous thing off.

  "I like it," Zayn says, cocking his head to the side.

  "Me too," Niall adds, mimicking Zane's pose.

  "It is very cool," Liam says, nodding.

  "Yeah it is," Louis agrees, craning his neck to see.

  Everyone's eyes fall on Harry who is looking at the floor, forcing himself not to look at me, hands still crossed in front of himself.

  "What do you think, Curly?" Niall asks, nudging him lightly with his elbow and Harry jumps.

  "Its...nice...I like it," he says, clearing his throat, his eyes watching his shoes scuff the tiled floor.

  "You didn't even look at it," Zayn says, doing his best to hide his smile.

  "I fucking saw it and it's cool," Harry spits, shifting from one foot to the other.

  "Okay," I say, taking a deep breath, "Let's do this."

  "You sure?" Dom asks, pulling over a stool and getting settled.

  "Yes," I say after a moment and he nods, reaching for his tattoo gun, checking the needle before dipping it in the ink.

  "Okay, it's gonna be a little sting," he says, leaning over me, resting his forearms against me as he poises the gun at my skin.

  I gasp a little as the needle digs in and I tense immediately, yelping a little. Okay, so apparently I'm a big fucking wuss because this is not a little sting. This is a big, searing pain. I pant a little, my hand moving to grip the edge of the table and that's when I feel it, Harry's hand covering mine warmly. He pries my fingers away from the edge, holding my fingers in his as he crouches down next to me and my thumb wraps around his hand, squeezing hard.

  "Aw, poor Scar," Liam says, patting my knee before moving to sit down, Louis following him because now he has a front row view and from the looks of it, Louis does not want to be anywhere near that needle.

  "Take care of her, Harry," Zayn says, patting his shoulder as he and Niall move to survey the art around the walls.

  "You doing okay?" Dom asks, pulling back to wipe at my skin with a towel, smearing black ink across my skin.

  "Yeah," I breathe, swallowing hard, "I'm...I'm okay."

  I feel Harry's thumb rub soothingly across my knuckles and I breathe out slow, sucking in deep when the needle comes back down. I squeeze his hand tight and his grip tightens on mine, dipping his head to rub my fingers against his cheek, seemingly scratching an itch but I know that's not the case. I look at him and give him a small smile, which he returns widely, glancing around, assessing that the other guys are occupied before reaching up to brush my hair back from my forehead. I squeeze his hand, this time out of warning and he winks at me. I narrow my eyes at him playfully before chuckling a little to myself.

  "Quiz me," he says when I wince again, and I look back at him glassily.

  "Huh?" I ask, a little dazed. God, I never realized what a fucking pussy I am.

  "Quiz me," he says again, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. "Like, ask me art questions."

  "Oh, um..." I say, trying to think.

  "Or..." he grins evilly, "How bout I quiz you?"

  I purse my lips at him. "Harry, I'm your teacher. I know everything you know."

  "Sure," he says, mockingly. "When you have your notes in front of you."

  Indignation rises in me and his grin tells me that this is just the reaction he was looking for. Well, at least I'm distracted. "Fine!" I hiss. "Quiz me."

  He screws his face up in thought, pulling his bottom lip between his straight white teeth and I fight the quiver in my stomach as he lets its slide slowly out. His eyes lock on mine, bluish green orbs dancing giddily. "Temple of Athena," he says, grinning at me.

  "That's not on your sheet," I say, a little shocked and he beams at me triumphantly, thinking he's won.

  "Yeah but it's in the chapter," he replies slickly. "If you don't know that's okay—"

  "The Temple of Athena is part of the Pantheon complex. Its architect was Kilikrates and it was constructed in 425 BC. It is done in the ionic style and is amphiprostyle, meaning it has a porch on each end. There is no entrance to the cella—"

  "Okay, okay," Harry grumbles, eyeing me slightly disappointed. "I get it. You know everything."

  I smile triumphantly at him. And then he grins back at me and my mind goes blank. I definitely know one thing, that's for sure...

  There is no stopping this.

  13

  "The Gemma Auguste, made sometime in the early first century of the current era, is made of onyx. Why do you think they used onyx?"

  I look up and find Harry gazing at me from across the room, much the same way he has been for the past twenty minutes. This is the rule that I've set. No messing around during lessons. Period. But just to be safe I always sit at least an arms length away. I hate that I can't resist him sometimes. I can hold him off for awhile but all it takes is one kiss, or a touch, or hell, sometimes even just a look and I give in completely. Tonight is looking like one of those nights, him laying sprawled out across the bed in my hotel room and me in a chair across the room. Sometimes an arms length isn't enough space
. Sometimes we need the entire room.

  The past week has been a whirlwind of heated kisses in deserted corridors and quick fondling behind closed doors. It's been five days since we first...

  It's been five days. It seems like there's always an excuse not to—there's never enough time, there are too many people around, something. Or maybe we're just nervous. Okay, maybe I'm just nervous. Once is one thing. A slip of resolve, a momentary lapse of judgment, but a repeat occurrence of us...God, I need to think of what to call this thing between us.

  Wrong works well.

  I fight the urge to smack myself in the head. I still feel guilt. Still feel shame, for being weak, for not having the willpower to fight him on this. It's inappropriate, and illegal, and just wrong. I should know better. I'm his teacher, I'm older but damn if every time he presses his mouth to mine, I don't forget all that. He has this way of making me not care. I've never not cared about anything before. It's kind of...refreshing. In a gut wrenching, I-could-go-to-jail-for-this kind of way.

  "Harry," I say after a moment of him not answering me, shifting slightly under the heat of his gaze. "Can you tell me why you think they used onyx?"

  He's lying on his side, his cheek propped on his palm, dressed in loose fitting basketball shorts and a wife beater, seemingly ready for bed, his book open next to him. His eyes lick up and down my frame, the heat of his gaze smoldering even from all the way across the room. Yeah, there's nothing stopping this tonight, except...

  "They used onyx because it was readily available," he sighs, rolling onto his stomach, shoving his book out of the way, irritated, still watching me, his chin resting on his folded arms. "And it was expensive. So it was used for royal stuff."

  "Yes, very good," I say, flipping the page in my notes. "There are two registers, the top of which shows Augustus and his court and the bottom—"

  "Scarlett," he says and I look up to see him wiggling a little in the bed, eyes dancing mischievously. "Are we almost done?"

  "Um..." I say, flipping through several pages of notes, "No, actually we're not."

  He groans, rolling onto his back and heaving a sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. I do my best to ignore the rather prominent bulge in the front of his shorts. I swallow hard, looking down at my notes.