Trashed and Scattered

He blinked at her, time passing away with every flutter of his dark lashes. No matter how much charcoal she’d spread across her lids, he’d know those green eyes anywhere. And they were staring back at him, unravelling his entire childhood with just one glance.
“Wiley?” Zach snickered.
“What the fuck is a Wiley?” Johnny added, equally amused.
Without taking his eyes off of her, Jimmy muttered lifelessly, “Wile E Coyote.”
They guys all exchanged confused glances, unsure what to make of the half-revelation that their drummer had offered to them. But the sound of it had Peyton weak in the knees. To see him standing before her was like a forgotten dream realized.
She was flooded with urgency and affection and longing…But mostly she felt the familiar surge of guilt rising and flaring in her bones.
“This is Lexi?” Brian asked his friend, in shock with his jaw slightly ajar.
Jimmy nodded, unnaturally silent.
Brian shot the others a warning glance, “We don’t we go see if we can’t get the stereo going.”
They agreed quietly, awkwardly put out by Jimmy’s stare down with the tattoo artist. As the men sank away, Brian patted Jimmy reassuringly on the shoulder. Only once they were alone, did Jimmy finally break his gaze.
“I don’t know what to say,” he told her with a defeated laugh.
She smirked, letting her feelings well up and over, “Then how about we don’t say anything?”
With seeming permission, Jimmy exploded into action, pulling her into his long arms with determination. He held her against his chest as she wept with, what he hoped was, relief. He ran his fingers through her hair, darker than when he’d seen the strands last.
Her arms tightened around his ribs, and she found herself thinking how skinny he’d stayed. She’d always assumed he’d been growing strangely—taking on height without weight—and that it would rectify itself in time. He’d grown even taller, but not any wider.
He smelled the same as she remembered; more distinct with his age. She buried her face into his chest and let her past consume her. For the first time in thirteen years, Peyton felt entirely safe. Like somehow she’d travelled through a weary desert and had wound up home.
“What are you doing here?” he asked into her hair.
She smiled, “I told you I’d come back.”
“Yeah fucking right,” he laughed sharply, pulling away so he could look at her.
God she was breathtaking. He felt a tinge for her that he scolded himself for immediately.
Her gaze was magnetic, her body enchanting. He’d always found her pretty when they were just children…but now…Now she was a goddess. She was perfect.
“My mother’s in prison,” she told him, immediately tossing her reservations to the curb.
“No shit,” he gasped. “My mom mentioned seeing Dan a few weeks ago. I honestly thought she was fuckin’ high.”
Peyton laughed loudly, “Don’t talk about Barb like that. The woman’s a saint!”
“Hey!” he defended cheekily. “She could have become a full-on drug addict in the years you’ve been gone!”
“Could not,” Peyton argued playfully.
They fell into another stare down. Each memorizing the flecks of colour in the other’s eyes and the creases that would form and dissipate as they made each other laugh. It was almost as if nothing had changed…while everything had changed simultaneously.
“I missed you,” she confessed quietly.
And she had. Though, it hadn’t dawned on her just how much of an impact the void had pressed into her bones until she was face to face with him. He’d been a casualty of her turbulent past and she’d had to give him up all the same.
But there he was.
And the swarm of feelings buzzing around in her chest simply couldn’t be worked out to anything but pure longing.
He nodded, “Me too.”
She cleared her through of awkward tension, “I’m sorry that I didn’t—”
“We should get in there,” Jimmy interrupted quickly.
Peyton was taken aback by his abrasiveness. Didn’t he want to hear her explanation? Did she really want to offer one? It seemed like the right thing to do…As weak as it was.
But Jimmy bounded off toward the living room, stopping only to quickly turn and ask, “Coming?”
Shaking sense into her limbs, she rallied up and followed him into the group. They fell into idle chatter as the two long-lost friends stepped into their midst. Brian gave Jimmy a questioning look, receiving a silent assurance in return.
“So…I take it you’re from here?” Johnny asked bluntly.
Peyton smirked, “Yeah, a long, long time ago.”
“Peyton here was Jimmy’s best friend,” Matt smiled, pulling Peyton under his arm.
“So much for meeting her in New York,” Zach noted teasingly.
Jimmy scowled, “New York?”
“Just a lie, man,” Matt laughed.
Brian cleared his throat, placing himself in front of overwhelmed Peyton. He flashed his most sincere Haner charm her way.
“I guess I’m the only one you haven’t actually been introduced to,” he said coolly.
She shrugged, “I haven’t really been introduced to anyone.”
Jimmy snickered, her classic resilience to socialization flaring up as it always had. He felt somehow relieved to see that she’d hardly changed.
“I’m Brian,” he told her, sliding passed her indifference.
“Wait,” Zach interrupted, bumping Brian out of the way. “Do we call you Peyton or Lexi?”
“Why would you call her Lexi?” Johnny quizzed seriously.
He shrugged, “Because that’s what Jimmy called her.”
“Jimmy,” Peyton noted, casting a suspicious glance at the tall specimen. “That stuck, huh?”
He grinned, “Not so much with Wiley.”
She was glad to hear it. Wiley had very much become his identity to her; and to her alone. It was a sweetness they shared, an innocence that no one had ripped from them. But to see him now…He was hardly a Wiley. He’d grown up and become a man while she was gone. Lord had he ever become a man.
“Call me Peyton,” she finally got around to answering Zach.
She ducked out from Matt’s reach, passing through the crowd of her old friend’s family and back over to the table of tattoo designs.
“Who’s first?” she asked, desperate to get away from the subject of her former life with Jimmy.
“Me!” Johnny called excitedly, bounding over to the plastic-wrapped bed and climbing atop it.
She smirked, “Weird cowboy thing, right?”
“It’s not weird,” he defended with a playful frown. “It’s cool!”
The boys drank while Peyton worked; filling each of their skin with colour. Brian brought her a beer and she happily cracked it, swearing up and down that she didn’t typically drink on the job. She was reminded that it was a tattoo party; “emphasis on the party”.
The men had filed outside for a smoke break, but Jimmy didn’t trail out along with them. He lingered behind, sorting through the roughed up drawings that Peyton had quickly worked through. All that remained was his own.
“I, um,” Peyton started nervously, cracking under the weight of his stare. “I fixed it up…I hope you don’t mind.”
He shook his head.
She passed him the newly designed version of his desired handcuffs. He grinned in approval.
“Chained to this existence?” she asked knowingly.
He glanced at her strangely.
“Some things never change, I guess,” she shrugged, downplaying how immensely rueful she had gotten caught up in feeling.
He passed the design back to her.
“We can get started if you want,” she told him lowly.
“Sure,” he shrugged, taking a seat on the bed and scooching himself all the way back.
She ran her fingers lightly over the bare skin at the base of his neck. She admired the existing tattoo, assuming it’s meaning but unwilling to ask for affirmation. His hair had been cut short in the back, which was misleading from the front. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her fingers through it. He made no effort to stop her.
Brushing passed the moment quickly, she shaved down the back of his neck with attention to detail. With the stencil in place, he sodded off to check the placement in the mirror.
With Jimmy’s approval, she got to work.
Each time she’d press her hand against his skin, she’d feel a bolt of electricity. It started small at first, like a shock from an outlet. But as they sat together in silence, it grew to a storm.
“You didn’t call,” he said finally, bating a whisper.
She swallowed her feelings back, pulling the gun with her.
He glanced back at her with his piercing blues, ridden with pain and confusion.
“I know,” she sighed softly.
When he didn’t say anything further, she went back to work. He sat like a champ, so deep in thought that he couldn’t bring himself to express everything he was feeling.
He wanted to tell her that he’d waited for her. He wanted to tell her that his life had been shit when she left…She’d missed so much.
But instead, he said nothing. He let her touch consume him, selfishly harnessing it inside.
“Life is weird,” he said finally, a coy grin spreading across his face.
She laughed knowingly, “Life is scary.”
As she finished up the red compliments of the tattoo, she let Jimmy go so he could inspect her work. He’d forever have a piece of her tied into his skin.
He admired it happily, insisting she was a badass.
She let him; but it ripped her to shreds. She was nothing. She was a liar; an escape artist. She’d abandoned him and couldn’t bring herself to genuinely apologize for it. She was no badass.
The sound of the boys thunderous return loomed through the house. Jimmy looked almost panicked as he turned back to his long lost love.
“Lex?”
She looked up from her station, taking a break from dismantling the gun, “Yeah?”
“What’re you doing later?” he asked. “Care to meet me at the old spot?”
Hiding her elation, she simply smiled, “I’ll be there.”

Notes

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