I grit my teeth again.
She sees my jaw flex and grins victoriously.
She knows that she won the game she was playing… that she made me want her.
I don’t bother telling her that I wanted her already.
Instead, I just meet her gaze and hold it, until she steps back and walks away.
This time, instead of staring at her bare ass, I focus on the black words tattooed on her shoulder blade. I saw them earlier, but I was too distracted to read them, even though they make me curious.
Nora isn’t the type of girl I would’ve figured for a tattoo.
She’s refined, buttoned-up, classy.
But even still, she has black words tattooed on her shoulder blade, with a small elegant anchor. Fluctuat nec mergitur.
It’s Latin. What does it mean?
I pull my phone out of my pocket and punch the words into a search engine.
A result is immediately returned.
She is tossed by the waves, but she does not sink.
It has meaning. It’s symbolic. The ink is stark black and the tattoo looks new.
It’s a reminder to her… to stay strong. To be resolute. To never sink no matter what.
My eyes narrow as I remember the text on her phone.
I want your word. And I want you to keep it.
I know where you are.
Something happened to her. Something she doesn’t want to talk about, something that she’s scared of, something that involves this William person.
I’ve seen the fear in her eyes a couple of different times, but she always covers it up.
I’ve seen that kind of fear before, in the eyes of women in Afghanistan. In the eyes of women who had been beaten and abused and raped.
My stomach clenches at the memory, but also for Nora.
Someone has hurt her.
But that someone won’t do it again, not while she’s here on my watch.
Of that, I am certain.
Resolutely, I make my way back out to the living room and drop into the chair by the windows. I wait while Nora gets dressed, and ponder our situation the whole time.
We’re like two prize fighters, circling around a ring, each waiting for the other one to pounce.
We’ve both got secrets that we don’t want the other to know.
It’s kind of ironic.
Nora finally emerges, clad in a t-shirt with no bra and short shorts. Her nipples poke through the thin material and the corners of her mouth twitch.