"Try me."
"You better not mess this up," I say.
"I'm literally doing God's work right now. Shut up and let me tattoo you." He winks. I roll my eyes. Then I hear the sliding door open behind us.
My dad steps out. He looks at us for a second. Then pulls out a chair and sits down.
Perfect. Right on time. Here comes the sermon about how ink causes cancer, how God is disappointed, how I'm definitely going to hell, and how my soul is basically already packed and shipped.
Can't wait. This man sees a tattoo needle and hears the devil sharpening his pitchfork. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
Noah smiles. "Nah, you're good, sir." My dad gives a small smile. They start talking about Noah's machines. Sterilization. Speed. Whatever. I try to talk as little as possible. Short answers. One-word replies. I don't want to make him think we're suddenly good. Because we're not.
Just because he shows up and doesn't start screaming doesn't mean everything's fine. I'm not handing out forgiveness like candy. It's weird with him ever since he slapped me that day. We both pretend it didn't happen. But it's always there.
In how careful he is now.
And in how careful I'm not.
Sometimes I think about the fact that I'm having sex with the one person he hates most. And honestly? It doesn't scare me anymore. It turns me on. I don't even know why. Maybe I'm just pissed. Or proud. Or both.
My phone vibrates. It's Gio.
GIO:
-Are you with noah?
ME:
-Yeah, why?
GIO:
-Can I come too?
I freeze for a second. Glance at my dad. Then back at the screen. Type fast with one hand:
ME:
-My dad's here. So you definitely can't.
I'm about to hit send when Noah looks up.
"Don't move, you idiot."
"Shut up," I mumble, sending the message anyway. Then I wait. And wait. He sees it. Doesn't answer. Oh my god. Did I say it wrong? Did he think I don't want him here? Shit. He probably thinks I prefer spending time with them instead of him. I'm not. I just—fuck. I pick up the phone again. Type quickly.
ME:
-We can still meet after. Still daytime, remember? :)
Send. Still no answer. I set the phone down, screen down. Pretend to listen to Noah and my dad talk about ink quality. But all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
What if I hurt him?
What if he's mad? What if he just... doesn't want to anymore?
...
