“I hope your guy is familiar with the male appendage.” She smirks.
“Probably not as familiar as you.” She sticks her tongue out at me, as her eyes light up. “Don’t tease.”
“I almost got my tongue pierced once. It was a dare, but I chickened out.”
“What a shame.”
“That was the closest I’ve ever been to being drunk.”
“Oh fuck, Prue. Really? You don’t drink?” I groan, resting my head on the table. This girl has no idea what fun is, and I’m going to suffer trying to teach her how to have it.
“I drink. A little. A glass of wine here and there. I like cosmos.” She shrugs, as I peer up at her. “I’ve been focused on behaving, unlike you.”
“We are getting you a tattoo and then you are getting drunk.”
“No. I don’t want a hangover.”
“I make no promises, but you are going to have some fucking fun for once in your damn life and I’m going to be there to watch.”
“You’ll make sure no one drugs me or kidnaps me too, right?”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe.” I sit up.
“Promise?” She eyes me carefully. “You won’t ditch me for some hot chick?”
“No. I’m all yours for tonight.”
“Then fine. I’ll get a tattoo and let you get me drunk.”
“You’re going to have a great night.” I flash her a grin. The idea she trusts me enough to go along with this makes me unreasonably happy. “What tattoo are you going to get?”
“Oh. I don’t know. Didn’t think that far.”
I pull out my phone, sending a text to my buddy Greg, asking him to set aside some time for two tattoos tonight. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve sent him enough work that his shop has become one of the more famous ones in town.
“No ideas?”
“No.” She shrugs. “What do girls normally get? Butterflies?”
“You are not getting butterflies unless you get them as a tramp stamp, flying out of your ass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I just want something small. Somewhere I can cover up, but also show off from time to time.”
“Hmm.” I grab a napkin from the table, pulling a sharpie out of my pocket. I always carry one in case a fan wants an autographor I feel like defacing some property. “You are not getting a butterfly tattoo. Or an anchor. Or any of that basic bullshit. If you are going to do this, you do it right.” I glance up at her. “If it’s going to be an act of rebellion and on your body forever, it deserves to be beautiful.”
Staring up at her, then back at the napkin, I ponder all the things that would be fitting for her. To the whole world she looks like a normal rich girl. Well-behaved. Good student. Perfect trophy wife material. But I know better than that.
Uncapping the sharpie, I take to drawing the only thing that seems fitting for a girl like Prue.
She may look like an angel, but underneath that halo rest two horns that desperately want to be unleashed.
I plan on helping them come out.
THIRTEEN
Ben’s handmoves across the napkin. Even as the server brings our food, setting it on the table, Ben just sighs, flips over the napkin and scribbles away. His hand moves quickly, forming lines and curves until an image of a set of horns surrounded by a broken halo appears.
I had no idea he knew how to draw. It’s beautiful. Simple, but well done.
