Eva
Dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, I hopped onto the train, heading to Food and Craft Loft. Two men and an older woman stepped in after me. As always, the train was crowded. When I spotted a seat at the front, I claimed it immediately. The men and the woman walked toward the back, standing by the metal pole. A man got up, offering the woman his seat.
Kain had told me he’d pick me up for our date, but I protested, wanting to take the train and get there early. There was a tattoo shop nearby that could give me some ideas. I hadn’t shared with him about wanting a tattoo. I’d never had an interest in marking my body until now. After seeing all of Kain’s art and the story etched in it, I wanted something to symbolize this critical moment in my life—when my heart blossomed with love.
Of course I’d have Kain tattoo me. He wouldn’t have it anyother way. But first, I wanted to surprise him by getting a few ideas.
The train halted at my stop, and I got off, walking over to Ink & Piercing Addicts. A girl with pink hair sitting at the receptionist’s desk grinned at me. “Welcome! May I help you?”
“Do you have a book of tattoo art I can browse?”
“Sure.” She pulled out two books and gestured to a seating area. “I’m Poppy. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Will do. Thank you.” As I sat, the two men who had been on the train walked in and browsed the jewelry display for piercings.
Both men wore dark pants. One man had short blond hair and a blue knit top; the other had chin-length brown hair and a striped top.
“Need any help, guys?” Poppy greeted them.
“No, we’re just browsing,” said the man in the blue top.
“He needs his girl to approve first.” The brunet elbowed his friend.
I turned my attention back to the book, flipping through the art by various artists. It fascinated me how each artist had a unique style. I browsed pages of flowers, hearts, thorns, skulls, and an assortment of abstract designs. Though the tattoos in the book were beautiful, they didn’t compare to Kain’s intricate work, but he only took on a few returning clients at Body Canvas.
After reviewing the two books, I got up and returned them to Poppy.
“Find anything you like?”
“I’ve got some ideas.”
“Okay. Think about it—because it’s going to stay on your body forever. We can also do custom art for you.”
The idea of personalized art sent a thrill through me. Would Kain want to sketch something for me?
“That’s a fantastic idea. I’ll give it some more thought.”
“When you’re ready, call us.” She offered me a business card.
“Thank you.”
I walked over to the Food and Craft Loft, entered, and gave the hostess my name. She showed me where to sit.
“It’s packed tonight.” I glanced at all the tables with reservation signs.
“There’s a group party going on.” She set down two menus, one for food and one for a craft project.
Food and Craft Loft was a spacious restaurant that offered food and a small craft project to work on while people ate. They could also save the craft until after the meal. The limited food menu kept things easy and organized for the unique restaurant.
I was ten minutes early, so I ordered two unpainted ceramic bowls for me and Kain to paint. They had a large kiln to bake everything for later pickup.
Pursing my lips, I glanced at the food menu and decided on a turkey club. Kain probably wanted a steak and cheese sandwich, but I’d let him decide when he arrived.
I texted Kain, letting him know I was already at the restaurant. As I prepared the paint for my bowl, a woman from the party group approached and sat down in the seat that was reserved for Kain.
“You’re his new girlfriend?” asked the dark-haired woman wearing an ivory shirt, jeans, and a fancy belt adorned with a glitzy Chanel logo. She raked a gaze over me, arching a perfect eyebrow.
I recognized her as Catalina Bellos, the former Miss Massachusetts and Kain’s ex from years ago. I glanced toward the other side of the restaurant where Cecilia sat with a group of women. Why did I have to encounter his ex and a woman whostill wanted him? What would happen when Kain arrived? Would they invite themselves over to our table? Those who grow up with privilege often forget their manners.
