Page 55 of Backstroke

“What made you get this dove tattoo?”

“Oh, that one’s new. I got it before this semester began. I wanted it to symbolize a new chapter in my life,” she says softly.

“Mmm, I like that. And what about this phoenix?” Fallon has her thigh draped over me, allowing me to see the beautiful image.

“Tell me why you got that one.” I continue tracing the brilliant outlines, waiting for her answer.

She sighs softly. “I drew that after my father was sentenced to prison,” she begins. Anger begins to take hold in my chest until I hear her continue.

“Phoenixes represent a rebirth or having a triumph over adversity. Once we were free from his wrath, I felt renewed. It sounds silly…” she trails off.

I pull her chin towards me, needing to see her face. “It’s not silly, Fallon. It’s fucking beautiful. You’re amazing, you know that? With everything you’ve been through, you still hold your head high. You didn’t let me steamroll over you. You’re just…” I can’t find the right word that perfectly describes her. “You’re a phoenix yourself, rising from the ashes.”

Fallon’s eyes fill with emotion, a mix of surprise and gratitude. She takes a deep breath, as if absorbing the weight of my words. A small, genuine smile forms on her lips, the kind that reaches her eyes. She leans in slightly, her voice soft but strong.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice steady. “It means more than you know.”

I can see the resolve in her eyes, the flicker of strength that was always there, but now seems more luminous. In that moment, I know she’s found another piece of herself—one that’s stronger and more resilient than ever.

My eyes soften, looking into Fallon’s enchanting gray eyes. I reach out and gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cheek.

“You’re the strongest person I know.” My voice is filled with adoration for the girl before me. I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, thankful that I saved this part of myself for her.

I lean backward to open my bedside table, pulling out a black sharpie. Fallon looks at me curiously as I pop the cap off and pull the blankets down her soft body.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“You’re going to laugh at me,” I begin, not even trying to hide my smile.

“Try me,” she teases.

“Well, I may be a secret Taylor Swift fan.” My cheeks redden when I see the huge smile on her face. She brings her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her giggle.

“You’re joking…”

“If you tell anyone, your ass will be so sore you won’t be able to sit down for a week,” I smirk. “But yes, I’m a fucking Swiftie.” Fallon is full on laughing, making me laugh along with her. Tears stream down her cheeks, but for once it’s from happiness.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. Remington Frampton, campus god, is a Swiftie!” she exclaims.

“There was a point to that admission if you would so kindly let me get to it,” I grin. She bites down on her lip to temper the laughter, making her even more adorable.

“Anyways, a few of her songs are on my workout playlist and one makes me think of you.” She eyes me curiously.

“Okay?”

“Hence the marker.” I hold it up, directing her attention to the pen. “There’s this one song. I don’t even remember the name but the lyrics are…” I trail off as I begin drawing on her stomach. She sucks in a breath.

“That tickles, Remy,” she giggles, making me smile.

Once I finish, I tell her the rest. “The lyrics are ‘you drew stars around my scars’ and I wanted to do that for you.” I click the top back on and look up at Fallon’s wide eyes. They’re shimmering with so much emotion that I think she might burst. Suddenly, Ifeel embarrassed. Maybe I went too far. I try to turn away but she holds my arm in place. Glancing back, I meet her gaze.

“No one’s ever seen me the way you do, Remy,” she admits. “It’s like you can see into my battered soul. Like you’re filling all the holes that were drilled in over the years, smoothing over the jagged edges,” she whispers. She runs her hand along my face, pulling me down until she’s kissing me with so much passion that my heart is in danger of escaping my chest. I pull back, ghosting my lips across her cheek until I’m hovering over her ear.

“I don’t want to change your jagged edges, Fallon. Your pieces fit mine just the way you are.” My tongue darts out to taste her skin, licking a path to her chest.

“Remy, I—“ but I don’t let her finish. For once I don’t need to hear the words because I can see them twinkling in her eyes, and nothing I said was to get her to return my feelings.

“Get some sleep, little fox,” I murmur, pulling the blankets over us and pulling her body against mine. She settles into me, nestling her head on my chest. My fingers dance lightly over her back until I hear her breathing even out.

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