TAYLOR
The sun was low in the sky but the festival was still in full swing when he came back. I was cleaning up after inking a cute little purple-and-blue octopus onto the ankle of a middle-aged mother, when I heard him clear his throat.
‘Have you decided?’ I asked, without looking at him. I was worried that if I did, it might betray how I was feeling. I hadn’t been able to shake his words and the way he’d said them. It had felt sointimate.
‘I have.’
‘And?’
‘I’d like a giant squid, like huge, multiple stories high kind of giant, right across my chest. And I want its tentacles to be wrapped around one of those old-fashioned sailing ships, like a pirate one, pulling it down into the depths of the ocean. And if you could add a few sailors jumping overboard to their inevitable death, that’d be great. The more detail the better.’
I slowly swiveled on the chair and stared at him, incredulous.
‘Are you serious? I’m not doing that.’
He grinned. ‘Good. Because I was just kidding.’
‘You had me going there for a minute,’ I scolded him.
‘You’re so easy to tease.’
He pulled off his cap, revealing his sandy blond, mussed-up hair, and took a seat. He smelled of delicious food and musky male, and I swallowed hard to try and hide my sudden nervousness. It was silly to feel nervous, when I remembered how intimate we had already been with each other. But if anything, it seemed to have made it worse. I knew what was at stake now. What I’d be leaving behind when I left. A few days ago, I couldn’t wait to get back to my life in the city. Now, the thought of never seeing Jack again made me feel all hollow inside.
‘Can you do it with my sleeve rolled up?’ he asked. ‘Or do you want me to take my shirt off?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Any excuse to flex your muscles, right?’
He laughed. ‘Sleeve it is.’
I turned my tattoo machine on, and starting gathering together what I needed. ‘You haven’t told me what you want yet.’
He stood briefly, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small shell. Sitting back down, he held it out in the palm of his hand. ‘This.’
I studied it. It was a top shell, a common snail, like you’d find up and down the coast. This was one of the prettier ones though, with iridescent blues and greens along with black.
‘Cute,’ I said, reaching out and picking it up, admiring the way the colors caught the light when I turned it over in my hand. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the tidal pool,’ he said. ‘The night we met.’
I stared at him.
‘Pathetic, I know,’ he mumbled sheepishly. ‘I’m not sure why I kept it. I just did.’
‘It’s not pathetic. It’s sweet.’
‘Can you draw it for me?’
I nodded, not trusting my words. He sat silently and watched me as I sketched the shell, focusing on all the little details. The imperfections that made it unique. When I finished it and wordlessly passed it to him, he studied it for so long without saying anything that I was worried he didn’t like it.
‘It’s perfect,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’
Warmth flooded through me at his words. ‘Thanks.’
‘Can you tattoo this?’
‘I can tattoo anything. Even giant squids.’
He smiled. ‘Just this will do. For now, anyway. I’ve heard that tattoos are highly addictive and once you have one, you usually end up wanting more.’
