I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head innocently at him. He raises an unamused eyebrow at me in response.
“You can’t really go off of my pain tolerance, baby,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “What you and I are able to handle are different. So even if I did remember, it wouldn’t be an accurate scale to go off of.”
“Stop being smart, just let me pout.”
“Ok, sweetheart,” He says, leaning forward and kissing my nose.
“Wait, when did you get this one?” I ask, remembering that he said that he’s gotten almost all of them while being eighteen or nineteen years old.
“After Mason was born.”
“And what about this one?”
“After my service to the military was done.”
“Hmm, I see, still not very helpful.”
“Sorry, pretty girl.”
“You’re forgiven, but only because you’re hot.”
“Objectifying me, huh?”He laughs and rolls his eyes at me. I uncross my arms and pull at the hem of his shirt.
“Yup,” I tease.
He lifts his arms, letting me pull it off. I squint my eyes, staring at the tattoos on his torso and down his right arm. He doesn’t have a lot, but he does have a couple.
“Have you ever thought about getting anymore?” I ask, giving the bird on the top of his shoulder a little kiss.
“I don’t really know. Most of them have some kind of meaning, so I’d have to have something in my life that makes getting one worth it.”
I stare at the dark ink, not a drop of color anywhere to be found. Some of them are fading because they are over twenty years old, while others still look nearly perfect.
“I want one.”
“Ok, let’s go get one then.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, my eyes popping out of my head. “Just like that? Don’t you think we should think about them first?”
“Call it impulsive. You’re young, Sloane, you are allowed to make decisions that you’ll regret in the future.”
His words catch me off guard.
When I think about it, there’s not really anything in my life that I’ve done that I regret. I was a nobody in high school, and I’ve pretty much just been isolated to my dorm, the gym, and classes since going to college.
“You think so?”
“Yes, baby, that’s what makes being young and dumb so much fun,” He says, pulling out his phone and typing a number in before pressing the call button.
“Beckett, what are you doing?”
“Hey, can you get me and a plus one in tonight?”
I shake my head at him. He gives my waist a little pinch, and he ignores me and keeps talking to whoever is on the other side of the call.
“Great, we’ll be there in a few minutes, bye.”
He hangs up the phone, and I stare at him in horror.
