Read Online penance. a love story (The Böhme Series) by Sarah Buhl - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Buhl
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realized there was a side to my best friend I didn't know.
“Oh. Okay. Doesn’t matter though, I’m not going to interrupt her time with her friends,” I said before giving my attention back to her as a guy in skinny jeans and boat shoes approached. He had tattoos of a pinup and anchors that had horrendous line work. They looked like shit and I questioned whether I believed that or if it was due to him dancing with the girl that made me judge him.
I wondered if the tattoos held meaning for him, or if he chose them because he thought they were popular now. He could be like so many others, lacking originality in their tattoos, branding their bodies with trends the same way they choose to pay for the brands on their clothes. The perpetual high school existence at work again.
Sid always told me he hated giving tattoos that didn’t mean something to people. Every last one of his held meaning. I thought of the tattoos and words that covered my body. I traced the tattoo on my neck and thought of my mother. I hated that she always managed to find her way to the forefront of my thoughts. Stinson said when this happens I need to stop the thoughts, grab onto them and make them my bitch. Yeah, he said that.
“Whatever, man, it’s your decision. So how has work been?” Blake asked trying to draw my attention away from the girl, “I still can’t wrap my head around you taking crime scene photos. It’s badass.”
“It’s been fine,” I stated without turning to Blake. “It’s a job.” I kept torturing myself by allowing my eyes to move to her and her companions on the dance floor. The douche guy with tattoos was behind her. It was obvious by his physical reaction that he was enjoying their dance.
“It can't be just a job. You have to see crazy shit,” he pried, wanting me to elaborate on any scene. He always asked me of it, but I never shared. It wasn't right discussing someone’s death or painful experience in a passing conversation with my best friend.
I closed my eyes for a second and took a few deep breaths trying to regain control of my thoughts. The live music stopped and the DJ began to play his mixes. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the haunting voice of Asaf Avidan in the Wankelmut remix of The Reckoning Song . The crowd began to cheer and the dance floor started to fill.
I turned back toward it and the girl was between the Gabe guy and tattooed douche. I didn’t know him and he might be a nice guy, but calling him douche, made me feel better. He was doing what I lacked the freedom to do. My fear imprisoned me and calling him douche helped me accept my shortcomings.
“I’m going to go dance,” Blake said next to me. I nodded, closing my eyes again and drinking my beer. I tried to make my thoughts my bitch but failed. I lacked the nerve to get on that dance floor. The fear consumed me and I was getting pissed because of it.
Memories of my mother flashed in my mind. I tried to push the thoughts away and failed. Their constant presence meant it was time to go. I had a few beers, but those few beers dropped my mental guard and I didn’t want to have a breakdown in front of these people, the girl in particular.
I nodded at Sophia who was working the bar and left my tip under my empty bottle. I turned to leave and my eyes drifted to the dance floor once again. Blake was dancing with a brunette and I shook my head as he nodded toward me. My focus went back to the girl that held my attention all night.
The Gabe guy was in front of her as the tattooed douche now groped her hips with his hands. She was rolling her shoulders into him and tempted him with every seductive twirl against his crotch. She danced with an unrestrained chaotic freedom. I watched her for a few moments and when I raised my eyes to her face, her eyes met mine.
We were ten feet from each other as she held my gaze. Her eyes filled with an emotion I understood. She wore a mask to cover shadows of sadness. It dropped for but a
“Oh. Okay. Doesn’t matter though, I’m not going to interrupt her time with her friends,” I said before giving my attention back to her as a guy in skinny jeans and boat shoes approached. He had tattoos of a pinup and anchors that had horrendous line work. They looked like shit and I questioned whether I believed that or if it was due to him dancing with the girl that made me judge him.
I wondered if the tattoos held meaning for him, or if he chose them because he thought they were popular now. He could be like so many others, lacking originality in their tattoos, branding their bodies with trends the same way they choose to pay for the brands on their clothes. The perpetual high school existence at work again.
Sid always told me he hated giving tattoos that didn’t mean something to people. Every last one of his held meaning. I thought of the tattoos and words that covered my body. I traced the tattoo on my neck and thought of my mother. I hated that she always managed to find her way to the forefront of my thoughts. Stinson said when this happens I need to stop the thoughts, grab onto them and make them my bitch. Yeah, he said that.
“Whatever, man, it’s your decision. So how has work been?” Blake asked trying to draw my attention away from the girl, “I still can’t wrap my head around you taking crime scene photos. It’s badass.”
“It’s been fine,” I stated without turning to Blake. “It’s a job.” I kept torturing myself by allowing my eyes to move to her and her companions on the dance floor. The douche guy with tattoos was behind her. It was obvious by his physical reaction that he was enjoying their dance.
“It can't be just a job. You have to see crazy shit,” he pried, wanting me to elaborate on any scene. He always asked me of it, but I never shared. It wasn't right discussing someone’s death or painful experience in a passing conversation with my best friend.
I closed my eyes for a second and took a few deep breaths trying to regain control of my thoughts. The live music stopped and the DJ began to play his mixes. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the haunting voice of Asaf Avidan in the Wankelmut remix of The Reckoning Song . The crowd began to cheer and the dance floor started to fill.
I turned back toward it and the girl was between the Gabe guy and tattooed douche. I didn’t know him and he might be a nice guy, but calling him douche, made me feel better. He was doing what I lacked the freedom to do. My fear imprisoned me and calling him douche helped me accept my shortcomings.
“I’m going to go dance,” Blake said next to me. I nodded, closing my eyes again and drinking my beer. I tried to make my thoughts my bitch but failed. I lacked the nerve to get on that dance floor. The fear consumed me and I was getting pissed because of it.
Memories of my mother flashed in my mind. I tried to push the thoughts away and failed. Their constant presence meant it was time to go. I had a few beers, but those few beers dropped my mental guard and I didn’t want to have a breakdown in front of these people, the girl in particular.
I nodded at Sophia who was working the bar and left my tip under my empty bottle. I turned to leave and my eyes drifted to the dance floor once again. Blake was dancing with a brunette and I shook my head as he nodded toward me. My focus went back to the girl that held my attention all night.
The Gabe guy was in front of her as the tattooed douche now groped her hips with his hands. She was rolling her shoulders into him and tempted him with every seductive twirl against his crotch. She danced with an unrestrained chaotic freedom. I watched her for a few moments and when I raised my eyes to her face, her eyes met mine.
We were ten feet from each other as she held my gaze. Her eyes filled with an emotion I understood. She wore a mask to cover shadows of sadness. It dropped for but a
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