Mark Me, Shawn Bailey [classic novels for teens .TXT] 📗

“Isn’t that?” Greer asked, pointing to a curly-haired teen on the right.

Eli hadn’t looked up or looked their way, but it was definitely him. The teen on the left was also cute, with long, dark hair and glasses. They appeared to be around the same age and must have been practicing or rehearsing together for some time since they were both very good. They played “Violin Concerto Number 5 in A major” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a classical and difficult song to perform.

Dimitri remembered it. He’d just began learning the piece when his father lost his job and Dimitri had to leave the music school.

The dark-haired violinist stopped playing while Eli did a solo piece. He made the strings sing melodically, filling the warm summer air with music.

Dimitri shuddered as the sound went from his ears to his nervous system. God, how he missed playing. He closed his eyes and got swept away by the haunting song. He opened his eyes at the sound of applause. Intense hazel eyes stared at him. He gulped. Eli was even more stunning awake and by daylight. Why hadn’t he noticed his golden tan last night or those sun-kissed cheeks? If someone would have told him that he would meet the man of his dreams in an arcade men’s room, he would have laughed them right out of the city. And if someone would have told him that he would fall in love on a crowded French Quarter street outside a busy seafood café, he would have called them crazy. He winked at Eli.

“There’s an empty table,” Greer told him.

“Do you know him?” the other violinist asked Eli.

“No,” Eli said.

Dimitri followed Greer into the courtyard. It felt like an arrow shattered his heart.

Eli and the other young man played another song.

* * * *

“What do you mean, how did you get a tattoo?” Justin asked.

“You got one just the same way the rest of us did.” He twisted his forearm around and showed him.

Eli looked at the tiny skull and crossbones. “Very manly,” he replied. Well, it was, compared to his.

Justin chuckled. “Holly got a tiger paw on her butt.” Eli smirked. He’d give anything to see the tattoo. But that was beside the point. “Let me rephrase the question. Did the words I want a tattoo come out of my mouth, or did someone just assume that I wanted a tattoo just because I was with you guys when you decided to do something this foolish?”

Justin backed away nervously. “I don’t remember. Whatcha get anyway?”

There was no way Eli was going to show him. “Where did we have it done? Maybe it’s not too late to have it removed.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Trey said, walking toward them clad in a red, white, and blue swimming trunks and beach slippers. His new United States Marine Corps tattoo on the right side of his chest glinted under the sunlight. In three weeks Trey would be leaving for boot camp, leaving poor Holly unattended. “That’s permanent ink. The only way a tattoo can be removed is with laser surgery.” Eli frowned. Trey had answered both his questions. The ink was permanent and Trey, no doubt had been the one who had him marked for life. He didn’t remember when their friendship had changed, but three weeks couldn’t pass fast enough for him.

“Aren’t you going to change into your trunks?” Henry asked.

Eli shook his head. “I’m not feeling well,” he lied. He couldn’t risk someone seeing those tattoos. Since his so-called friends wouldn’t give him the name of the tattoo parlor, he would find it himself. Maybe he should have asked his new tattooed stalker from last night where he’d gotten his done. Seeing him just show up at the café earlier had really blown his mind. Talk about the fates working against him. He’d still had an appointment with his hairstylist but he’d cruise around the area where they were last night to see if he could spot any tattoo parlors in the vicinity. “See you guys later,” he said as the rest of the swimmers started coming out of the gym. He hurried off to tell the instructor that he would see him next weekend for his last lesson.

* * * *

The door to the parlor opened around five. Dimitri was busy finishing a design on a customer’s back and didn’t look up. Greer or Jose could handle it.

“You have company, Dimitri,” Greer told him.

“I’m busy,” Dimitri said, still not stopping the needle or looking up. “Can’t one of you guys handle it?”

“I think you might want to handle this one personally,” Greer answered.

Dimitri raised the needle gun and looked up angrily. “Oh!” he gasped. A gorgeous, hazel-eyed, preppy violinist stood in the waiting area dressed in a pair of black slacks, a gray pullover shirt, and dress shoes. He looked like he was on his way to some fraternity function, or maybe a date with some young chick he’d gone to school with.

A stylist, not a barber, had gotten to Eli’s hair and shone off his dark, curly locks. Dimitri moaned inside. He looked even hotter with the new do.

“Are you Dimitri?” Eli asked.

“Yes,” Dimitri answered. “How can I help you?”

“We need to talk,” Eli said.

“I’m busy.” Who did the little cutie think he was anyway coming into his shop looking like fresh meat to a starving man and smelling like expensive aftershave and cologne? “Have a seat.”

“Who is that?” Jose asked Greer.

“Dimitri’s new little thing,” Greer answered.

Eli glared at him but walked over to a seat.

“Hot damn,” Jose said in Spanish. “He’s yummy.” Dimitri smirked, hoping Eli couldn’t understand Spanish. Like him and Greer, Jose could appreciate a beautiful man, and Eli was all that and a bag of chips. The pullover shirt showed off his young, muscular build. He’d bet he worked out at the gym or something.

Dimitri went back to what he was doing while Eli