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"Yeah." Zack's voice gets hollow as he stares at the tattoo gun. His eyes go wide. His jaw cricks. "How long is it gonna take?"
"About an hour." Dean stretches his arms over his head. "You good to sit?"
"Sure." Zack continues staring at the needle.
"Chloe is my apprentice," Dean says. "She's just gonna watch."
"Right." Zack nods.
"That's kind of her thing—" Dean catches himself getting dirty. Clears his throat. "You ever get a cover-up, Chloe?"
"Yeah." My hand goes to my hip reflexively. "My first tattoo was terrible. A lopsided star. I went to a really shady place. I was lucky I didn't get hepatitis."
Horror creeps over Zack's expression.
Shit. That isn't helping.
I back up. "We're really careful here. Sanitized needle. New pad of ink every time." I tap the ink on the shelf. "It's um…" I reach for a comforting response and find nothing. Dean makes this look so easy. But it's just… not. "We really are careful."
Zack stays horrified.
I bite my tongue.
Dean shakes his head. Pathetic.
No.
I won't prove him right.
"It's my favorite tattoo now. The cover-up." I roll my jeans over my hips to show off the ink. It's no longer a lopsided five-point star. It's a shooting star, trailing across my skin.
Zack's expression softens. "Nice." He turns to Dean. Throws him one of those guy looks are you two a thing?
"You haven't shown me the new version," Dean says.
This is artist to artist.
It's not him checking out my bod.
Not that I want him checking out my bod.
I…
Ugh.
I turn to Dean.
"Fuck. That is nice. Who did it?" he asks.
I relay the artist's name.
Dean nods knowingly. "Now put your clothes back on. We wouldn't want Zack distracted."
I fight a glare.
He smiles smugly.
Whatever. This isn't making it about sex. Nudity isn't always sexual. If anyone knows that, I do.
