“Me too!” Clara says with a squeak. “I has hoping you’d choose that one!'' Then she starts talking a mile a minute. “I was thinking you could get it inside your upper arm, or even your lower arm, or your ribs, or if you want to be adventurous, your sternum, but that’s gonna hurt. Like a bitch, I might add. Vivi did mine a few years ago and I think it hurt more than birthing our monster-sized daughter’s head. So yeah, maybe not sternum, not that you don’t look like one tough bitch because we all are, but like maybe not for your first tattoo.”
Unable to stop myself, I start laughing, followed by Ian which instantly makes me relax. Vivi says, “Clara, babe, you need to breathe. Let the woman talk.”
“Yes, you’re right. I should be asking you what you want,” she calmly says, sitting up straighter on her stool, going from overly excited to overly professional.
“I like the idea of my arm, or maybe between my shoulder blades-slash-neck area?” I say nervously, looking at Ian. “What do you think? You have more tattoos than I even know of.”
“Your back is a good idea. Doesn’t hurt as much as the inner arm, and you could get it done a bit bigger to get more of the details in there. Plus, maybe add a butterfly,” he says, pointing above the flowers.“Since you said you loved butterflies when I showed you the tattoo I have for Sadie.”
“Ooo that’s a good idea!” I agree. I’ve always loved butterflies. Summer’s mom used to always say we were sunshine and butterflies mixed with a little hurricane as kids. I hand the iPad back to Clara, asking her if she could add a small butterfly.
Taking this time to look around more, I catch Vivi looking at Ian’s hand on the back of my neck. I hadn’t even realized it was there until I caught her looking at us, making me blush. I’m usually hyperaware of people touching me, not wanting their touch for anything more than what is necessary, or for a fleeting moment. Not to mention, I’m not necessarily fully comfortablewith someone touching me in the first place. But with Ian, it doesn’t make me pause. She meets my gaze, sees my blush, and sends me a warm smile and a wink.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I hear Ian say. “That’s gonna look sick as fuck.”
“You know it, hockey boy!” Clara says, turning towards me. “All right, here it is, do you like it?” she asks, almost nervously.
Taking the iPad from her I see that not only did she add a couple butterflies, flying around, but she added some details, too. She added some greenery and a few daisies, my favorite flower.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. “How did you know to add daisies? I didn’t even think of that.”
“Ian here pointed out that it was your favorite.” She looks down at the screen, while I turn towards Ian who has a small blush across his cheeks. “Now, how about you get that shirt off and I’ll print a few sizes to see what would look best,” Clara says, standing up.
“My shirt?” I ask nervously.
“Yeah silly, how do you expect me to tattoo your back with a shirt on?” she says as she leaves the room.
Shit, shit, shit.How did I not think about this? I haven’t done laundry in forever. I was waiting for Levi to leave next week before washing my bras so I could hang them around to dry. The only one I had left this morning was the bra I don’t wear, the one that is almost completely see through. Shit. Maybe I can switch back to my arm. Yeah, I’ll just tell her I changed my mind and I want the tattoo inside my upper arm.
“Pretty Girl, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Ian asks, taking Clara’s stool and rolling closer to me, looking me in the eyes. “No need to be nervous,” he says calmly, putting his hands on my knees.
Blushing, not only because I’m literally wearing the sexiest bra I own, a cute little black number in all lace, where in the right light, like these bright fluorescent lights, you can clearly see my nipples, but because he has his hands on my knees while he rubs his thumbs in circles on the inside of my thigh. It’s getting hot in here.
“We can leave if you want. You don’t have to get a tattoo.” Ian meets my eyes again.
“No, I want to get it. Just . . .” I start, but trail off, feeling my face burn up.
“Just, what?” he asks.
“I haven’t done laundry in forever. I was waiting for Levi to leave on Saturday before washing, my umm . . . my unmentionables, so the one I’m wearing right now isn’t very a . . . Well, it’s not very people friendly, let’s say . . .”
Looking up once I’m done with my rambling, my eyes lock with Ian’s. His eyes are stormy, exactly as they were the night I met him. As he moves his hands from my knees to the bed, caging me in and getting closer, he locks my knees between his thighs and says, “Pretty Girl, are you trying to tell me you’re wearing lingerie under this band tee?”
“Maybe,” I say, feeling bolder with the look he’s giving me. Letting out a breath he pushes away.
“I can go wait in the front if you want, if it makes you more comfortable.”
Before he can get too far, I grab his arm. “No, stay, maybe just turn around until I’m situated on the chair?” I ask shyly. I don’t know why I said that, as if I don’t want to get naked with him.
“Sure, Pretty Girl.” With an exhale and a smile he reigns in his lust better than I ever could.
“Alrighty, I have three sizes printed out,” Clara says rejoining us. “Why are you still wearing a shirt?”
“I, a . . . I was waiting for you,” I stutter.
“Well, I’m here now. Turn around and take it off so I can get started on this!” she says excitedly.
Turning around to give her my back, I don’t notice the mirror in front of me as I grip the bottom of my baggy t-shirt to remove it.
