Ben looks over to Greg, but Greg just shrugs.
“If that’s where she wants it, that’s where I’ll put it.”
“Fine.” Ben shakes his head. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Remove your shoes and socks,” Greg says. “I’ll go set everything up. Have you decided what you’re getting?”
Ben looks at me. I shrug.
“Still deciding,” Ben says.
Ben stands as I sit on the bench, removing my shoes.
“What side should I get it on?”
“Whatever side you want.” He shrugs. “You should be more concerned about what you are going to have me get.”
“A dick. I’m having you get a nice giant penis.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Face.”
“No. Try again.”
“You’d get a dick if I told you to?” I ask, sliding off my socks.
“Sure, but I draw the line at a face tattoo.”
I look at him. He is insane. He doesn’t care what I pick for him. I’m pretty sure he would get anything I tell him to get without a single complaint.
“Do you even have space for another tattoo?”
“Probably not on the arms, but maybe on my back or legs.”
“And you really don’t care what I make you get?”
“Not at all.” He grins.
“Okay. I won’t make it a dick, but you don’t get to know what it is until it’s done.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You are so bossy.” He smiles. I shoot him a look. “I said bossy, not the other b-word.”
“Only because we are in company,” I shoot back, walking over to where Greg sits, setting up. “Do you have any paper? I need to draw something for him to get tattooed.”
Greg glances at Ben. He waits until Ben nods before passing me a piece of paper and pen.
“Here you go. Now sit here. I need to clean the area and place the stencil.”
I sit on the bench, holding out my left leg toward him. He grips it, spraying it with some stuff, while I look at the blank piece of paper.
Too many ideas are swimming around my mind. Part of me wants to draw a butterfly just to be a bitch. Or maybe a heart with some random girl’s name in it just to ruin his life. But once I put the pen to paper all I manage to draw is a set of devil horns attached to a broken heart.
If he is giving me a broken halo, I think a broken heart is fitting for him. I fold the paper in half, so Ben can’t see it. Glancing down, I watch Greg place the stencil on my ankle.
“Is that good?”
Ben looks over his shoulder. I have no idea if it looks right or not. When Ben’s eyes meet mine, I stare back, trying to gauge what he thinks of the placement. He nods to me.
