Page 49 of The Tattoo Artist

“It’s okay Clark,” I chuckle. “You don’t need to explain how you’re not attracted to me.”

“How about we get out of here? Go to a burger place and eat our sorrows away,” he suggested, looking down at me.

“I don’t mind, but you’re going to have to convince my mum.”

“Easy,” he said, standing up, and I followed suit. “You’re not as bad as I thought, Alexandra.”

“Oh, I am, really bad,” I tease, rolling my eyes.

“No, I thought you were a judgmental Catholic, but it turns out to be the other way,” he teased back, shoving me playfully.

We made our way outside and spotted my mother speaking to Mrs. Johnson.

“Oh, Clark, my love, how are you?” Mum greeted him warmly, and Clark gave her a slight nod.

“Good, Mrs. Jones. Would you mind if I take Alexandra out for dinner?”

My mother’s eyes widened a little, and she glanced down at me. Great, she probably thinks it’s my idea and is going to give me a fat headache about putting her on the spot later- “I promise to bring her back before ten and to make sure she is safe,” Clark added, sounding sincere and responsible.

“No touching or anything...” my mother started to say, but Clark quickly interjected, “of course not, Mrs. Jones, not a hair on her head.”

I held my breath, hang on, is my strict mother actually considering this? To my surprise, she sighed before finally nodding her head.

“Okay, bring her back before ten! You only have three hours,” she instructed, rubbing my shoulders affectionately. I try to contain my excitement as I squirm inwardly, following Clark as we left the church.

Once outside, I couldn’t help but smile as Clark and I set off on our little adventure. It felt even better knowing I’m not hiding this from my parents, it felt good knowing that I don’t need to lie about where I have been. We arrived at the burger place, and Clark graciously pushed the door open for me as we found a seat and placed our orders.

“So, are you just a boring Catholic? Or do you actually have a life?” Clark asked playfully as we waited for our food. I gave him a small smile, glancing around the place before deciding to reveal my recent tattoo to him. I pulled down my shirt slightly, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“No fucking way,” he gasps.

“Got it done a couple of weeks ago, actually,” I said, feeling a sense of pride in sharing this little piece of my rebellious side with him.

“Does your mum know?” He asks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

I smirk. “I’m still alive, so I guess not.”

“Wow, Alexandra Jones, what else are you hiding? A secret boyfriend?” He teased, trying to prod for more. I tense my jaw, not wanting to reveal too much, but my expression must have given something away. “No way,” he said, catching on to my reaction.

“He’s not my boyfriend... but he’s just complicated,” I speak.

“Complicated how?” He asks, leaning closer, intrigued about my life. Obviously, I wouldn’t tell anyone about Ares being Diávolos, that isn’t something to share. Not even with Catherine.

“He has too many secrets, and well... he’s sort of dangerous,” I confess, the weight of his existence resting heavily on my conscience.

“Everyone has secrets, Alexandra, and no one’s perfect,” Clark reassures me, his understanding and acceptance comforting.

As we continued our conversation, the waiter arrived with our food, momentarily interrupting our discussion.

“So, what about you? A crush on someone?”

“Actually, I do have a crush on someone,” Clark replies with a sly smile. “He’s a tattoo artist downtown, his name is Ares.”

My heart skips a beat as he mentioned Ares.

No way did Clark have a crush on the same person I did.

The same person I am supposed to not be thinking about but can’t get him out of my head.

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