“I remember this,” she whispers, my entire body seizing under her touch. “I remember a hummingbird.”
Clearing my throat, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
She moves off me, freeing my limbs. I dive for the blanket, but she holds it down, refusing to let me cover myself. “It’s beautiful.” Her words are so soft, so angelic I almost don’t hear them.
“It’s not,” I finally say, my voice low and full of tension. “It was a mistake.”
When her dark eyes connect with mine, I don’t see the humor I’ve witnessed from lovers in the past. I see beauty. Soft, elegant, unapologetic beauty. Her touch grazes over the image that has marred my skin for seventeen years. The one I’ve never shown anyone willingly. The one I keep hidden, that reminds me of a time I can’t seem to forget, as much as I try.
“How can something so delicate and beautiful be a mistake?” she asks, seeming genuinely curious.
Clearing my throat, I reach for my necktie. The one I use as a shield, only it’s not there. I’m practically naked—again—in front of Freedom, and she won’t even release the blanket for me to cover up my groin. “I didn’t mean to get it.”
Her eyebrows pull together as she looks between myself and the tattoo. Yes, tattoo. My biggest mistake in life, until this weekend. She smiles down at the image and traces the faint outline and bold blue coloring. “In Native American culture, hummingbirds are seen as healers and bringers of love, good luck, and joy.”
“This hasn’t brought me any of those things,” I find myself telling her.
When those stunning eyes meet mine, she smiles. “I’m not so sure about that, Sammy. You’re surrounded by love and joy. You just have to see it,” she whispers softly, her eyes gazing down at the hummingbird and holding a hint of happiness. My heart pounds against my breastbone and my arms long to reach for her. To hold her close. To tell her she brings me joy, along with heartburn.
Closing my eyes, I fight the emotions raging in my chest. I feel her move and when I look up, her back is to me. She’s pulling up that tank top, exposing her upper back. That’s when I see it. The tattoo. The hummingbird tattoo. The one so very similar to my own inked over her right shoulder blade. And while mine is black and blue, hers is a soft yellow and pink. It looks ten times more delicate than my own, as if it was made just for her skin.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles. Fuck, that smile is…everything. Everything I want, but won’t let myself have. She’s gazing down at me as if these tattoos hold some sort of power, some special meaning, and in a way, I guess they do. Except, hers was done on purpose, and mine was…well, not.
Sighing, I sit up, cover myself and pull her to sit beside me. I feel like a greased monkey, but that’s not something I can deal with now. Now, I need to tell her a story. The one I’ve never shared with another soul. Even past lovers, I never told them the true meaning of the tattoo. I’ve been too ashamed. But something in her eyes makes me feel comfortable enough to tell her about my mistake and why I’ve avoided alcohol since.
“Back in college, I was pretty much the way I am today. Disciplined and focused on my studies and the task at hand. There was no room for fun, no time for parties. In fact, the thought of a party pretty much made me nauseous, much like the crowds today,” I tell her, my eyes falling to the ugly carpet pattern at my feet.
“My roommate, Doug, finally convinced me to go out one night. The fraternity he was pledging was having a big Halloween bash, and he wanted me to go. I tried to get out of it, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I went. And I drank.”
Deep breath.
“I drank too much, and then drank some more. Somehow, we ended up at this late night tattoo parlor. The artist was…well, she was good looking. I remember lying on the table and trying to get her phone number, but I had absolutely no game and was awkward as hell. My roommate and a few of his friends were laughing and encouraging me, even as the blackness of passing out started to creep in.
“I remember her asking me what I wanted, and I guess I pointed at…well, at my manhood.”
“You what?” Freedom asks, drawing my attention back to her face.
“Yeah, I apparently pointed there,” I tell her, pointing down at my groin much like I apparently did that night so long ago. I take a deep breath and tell her the part I’m dreading with my entire being. “I pointed there and said...hummer. Only it didn’t come out hummer. Apparently, I said hummingbird.” The familiar shame rockets through my body, rendering me completely spent and exhausted.
Freedom doesn’t say anything. She just sits there, the humiliation of my words floating around us like a bomb, ready to detonate. Finally, she takes pity on me and speaks, “So, let me get this straight. You, Samuel Grayson, went out and got schnockered with your roommate. Somehow, you decided to get a tattoo, and while you were there, you asked the artist for a hummer?”
I close my eyes, the burn of humiliation tinging my cheeks. “Yes.”
It’s silent for another second. Two. Hell, it’s silent for about ten seconds before she does something I’m not prepared for. Freedom bursts out laughing. “Holy shitballs, Sammy! That’s kinda badass.”
“Badass? Are you kidding me right now? It’s a horrible story!”
“No, it’s a hilarious story, and shows that you’re human.”
“I’m not human,
