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couldn’t get to know her.
    I sat in my seat and sipped my cup of coffee while some old timer explained what sobriety meant to him. As I listened to him talk, but make absolutely no sense whatsoever, I wished I could live a normal life.
    But anyone who survived what I had survived would never live a normal life.
    I simply needed to find a way to accept my parent’s death as being something completely out of reach for me to resolve.
    Doing so, however, was a different story.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    RILEY
    I parked my car in the same spot, checked myself in the mirror, and glanced down at my bare legs. At the time it seemed like a great idea, but now that I was sitting in my car down the street from the tattoo shop in my neon pink boy shorts and sports bra, I felt like a slightly arrogant slut.
    I was better than this.
    Much better.
    I convinced myself it was alright to stop by because I had been at the YMCA, and the gym was in the neighborhood. In my way of thinking, it was alright to stop and pick up my shirt from Blake; in fact, it just made good sense to do it while I was in the neighborhood. Realistically, I could have easily picked it up when I came in four hours later for him to do my tattoo.
    As I fought with myself regarding what I should do, a figure in the distance caught my attention. Blake stood outside the tattoo shop, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.
    Shit.
    If I drove away, I’d have to drive past him, and would risk him seeing me and wondering why I was doing a drive by. And, if I got out and walked his direction, I would risk him thinking I was a dumb underdressed slut with a high sex drive. As I told myself never to fall victim to my mindless ways of thinking again, he leaned forward and peered down the block and through the windshield.
    His eyesight must be much better than mine.
    Within a few seconds, he was waving his arm as if to guide me in. I shifted the car into gear and slowly rolled his direction. As the car pulled in front of the shop, I parked and reluctantly opened the door.
    “I just got done working out, and was thinking about stopping and getting my shirt. Then I realized I was in workout gear, and I thought maybe I’d just wait. Gonna be in here in a few hours anyway,” I said over the top of the car.
    “Nice car, it’s on my bucket list,” he said as he flicked his cigarette into the street.
    A few dozen cigarette butts slightly beyond the curb acted as camouflage to the new addition.
    “It’s fun to drive,” I said as I shifted my eyes from the pile of cigarette butts.
    “Zero to sixty in less than four seconds is more than fun. Exhilarating is what Road and Track said when they tested it,” he said.
      “You know your cars,” I said.
    “I know a little bit about a lot of things. Come on in, we’re not prejudiced about clothing,” he said as he turned toward the door.
    I inhaled a shallow breath of courage, exhaled, and began walking toward the shop as soon as he was through the door. As I approached the entrance, I felt naked and exposed. I never realized what it was about working out, but I rarely felt uncomfortable in boy shorts and a sports bra while I was at the gym, but being anywhere else in public with the same attire caused me to feel naked.
    Being with Stephen from the time I was seventeen until I was twenty-one left me with very little experience in communicating or interacting with men. I wasn’t a fool by any means, but walking through the door of Blake’s shop with my ass cheeks hanging out of my shorts, I sure felt like one.
    “Here you go,” he said as he turned around.
    He held my shirt in front of his chest with both hands. Neatly folded, it appeared that he may have washed it.
    “You didn’t wash it did you?” I asked.
    He nodded his head. “Sure did.”
    “Wow, thanks,” I said as I reached for the shirt.
    I carefully held the shirt no differently than he did, being cautious not to wrinkle it.
    “Turn around, let me have