Page 10 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

The seat shifts as she sits down.

“Penny for them.”

That. Accent. I could listen to her talking all day, every day.

“Will you tell me about that tattoo behind your ear, darlin’?”

Silence. I realize it’s because I’ve asked a question she doesn’t want to answer, but we both know I can’t take it back now that it’s out there.

With my eyes remaining closed, I reach out, take her hand in mine, and give it a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

For the first time in my life, I want to know everything there is to know about a girl. I want to know all about Jaine Jones.

I don’t rush her. I just wait.

There’s no expectation for her to answer the question at all. She could change the subject to something far safer if she wanted to, and it would be left at that. For now, at least.

“It’s the initial of a boy.”

Envy flows through me—another first. I can actually taste its bitterness on the tip of my tongue.

I’m jealous that some other fella meant enough to her that she had his initial permanently inked on that perfect skin of hers. I don’t say anything. I just let her continue in her own time.

“He was my first.” Her voice is hesitant like it pains her to talk about it. About him. “I loved him. That’s why I got the tattoo. He slept with me, then immediately slept with someone else. I guess, in the end, he didn’t feel the same way… and that I was a disappointment when it came to….”

“Is that why you left home?” I interject to save her from any further embarrassment.

“No.” There’s a pause. “My pop studied law at Yale. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. That’s the reason I left my hometown.” Another pause. “The boy is the reason I’ll never go back.”

Unrequited love.

I turn to look at her. I see it now—the sadness behind those big green eyes. I now know why she’s been so reluctant to move forward with me. He broke her trust and filled her with a mass of insecurities.

I turn to face her, then reaching out my other hand, I gently cup the side of her face, my gaze dropping to her lips. She knows what I’m going to do. Her tongue flicks out to lick their fullness and to give me all the permission I need.

I lean toward her until she’s breathing me in, and I’m breathing her in. I know even before my mouth touches hers that she’s it for me.

My end game.

I slowly press my lips to hers. I never want to forget this life-changing moment.

Soft. Warm. Hesitant. So fucking perfect.

That’s what her mouth feels like under mine. I move my lips gently, and she does the same. Her mouth is unsure yet inquisitive at the same time.

Her hand reaches up to tangle with the back of my hair, and taking that as a sign of encouragement, I dip my tongue into her mouth.

I need to know if she tastes as good as she does in my dreams.

The moment my tongue touches hers, she pulls back.

“I…I need to go.”

I simply nod at her stuttered words. I don’t ask her to stay, and I don’t go after her as she quickly stands and walks off.

I’ve achieved enough for today. I’ve made a breakthrough. Anything else is too much, too soon, when she’s clearly still nurturing a broken heart.

All she needs is time.

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