As Ray works, I clench my jaw so tightly, I expect it to throb for the next few days. We’re only doing the outlining of the skull today, which means it’ll be a short session. Shading will be another session.
“Just about done,” Ray announces.
Ellie walks over to inspect his handiwork, leaning in close to get a better look.
“So, does the missus approve?” Ray asks, smirking.
Her smile turns shy as her eyes dart to mine, locking there. Ray knows we’re not even out of high school yet, nowhere near married, but I can see it—the way she likes being called mine. My wife.
And that’s the plan. Someday.
She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s alright.”
I shake my head, laughing. She knows it’s good but has to be a little brat about it.
Ray looks at her with narrowed, amused eyes. “This is my last appointment for the day. You sure you don’t want a little something? Most girls your age like butterflies. I’ll even give you the virgin’s discount.”
Her face flames bright red, misunderstanding him. She thinks he’s calling her a virgin, when really he means tattoo virgin.
“He means tattoos, querida mía,” I tell her quietly and her shoulders drop in relief.
“I don’t really like butterflies.” Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, clearly wanting to say no, but not wanting to be rude either.
“Don’t waste your time,” I tell him, grinning. “She’ll never get a tattoo.”
Ellie’s head snaps up, her competitive streak igniting in an instant. “Excuse me?”
I smile, already knowing I’ve pushed her buttons. “You heard me. You’d never actually do it. You hate pain. You can barely stand a flu shot. Besides, you change your mind every five minutes. There’s nothing you love enough that you could stand being permanently on your body.”
Her lips lift, eyes disarming me as they narrow. “I guess the only thing I love permanently is you.”
For a second, I’m stunned, her words catching meoff guard. She’s smiling, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, like she’s daring me to say something.
Ray lets out a low whistle, enjoying the entertainment. “Damn, kid. She’s good. A little cheesy, but I like it.”
Ellie steps closer, her chin lifted in that stubborn, confident way she gets when she’s ready to prove someone wrong.
“You think I won’t do it? Fine. Let’s go, Ray. I’ll getDominictattooed on my wrist right now.”
Shit.
That is not where I was going with the teasing. I was thinking a flower, not my fucking name. “Ellie, you don’t have to?—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t backpedal now. You wanted to say I’d never do it, so let’s see if you’re right.”
Ray laughs a deep rumble, already reaching for his tools. “Alright, I’m in. Sit your little ass down, sweetheart.”
She hops onto the chair with an air of nonchalance, though I know her well enough to see the slight tremor in her hands.
Panic rises within me. “Ellie, it’s permanent. You don’t have to do this to prove a point.”
She ignores me. “Just make it small,” she tells Ray, holding out her wrist. “And pretty. I want it in script.”
How the hell did she go from not wanting a tattoo, to now knowing exactly where she wants it and how she wants it to look?
I stand there, dumfounded, watching as Ray gets to work. He traces it out first, confirming she likes the size and script style. Any minute now, she’s going to back out. No way is she actually going to follow through.
We’re not even eighteen yet, but Ray isn’t the most law-abiding citizen. If she actually does it, her parents are going to lose it.
