I grin. “Luckily, I had enough foresight to start withdrawing a little cash here and there in case something like this ever came up. Now I don’t have to worry about a tattoo shop showing up on my bank statements.”
“Why would it matter if it showed up on your bank statements?”
I hesitate. I guess Oliver doesn’t know this embarrassing bit about my life yet. “It’s my parents’ money,” I explain. “And I just don’t want a lecture about it.”
“Ah, I see,” Oliver replies. “Are they super conservative?”
“Yeah, and they’re practically looking for a reason to cut me off. This could just add more fuel to the fire.”
“That sucks,” Oliver says quietly.
“Yeah, and I know that I’m just delaying the lecture because they’ll definitely see it on Thanksgiving, but…” I shrug. “That’s a future Jude problem. Today, I’m throwing caution to the wind and getting that piercing!”
“Slay!” Oliver shouts, then immediately adds, “Sorry, I just spent the weekend around my younger stepsisters. Their Gen Alpha speech must have worn off on me.”
“I thought ‘slay’ was a Gen Z thing,” I counter.
“Who even knows, man. Kids are weird.”
I snicker. “So, are you interested in getting anything pierced? Or maybe even getting a tattoo?”
Oliver trills his lips. “You know, I have wondered if I’d look good with earrings.”
“Ooh, I think you would! Both earlobes?”
“Yeah, I don’t see the benefit of just doing one.”
“I think it used to signal to people whether you were gay or straight, but I think that’s another outdated stereotype.”
“Yuck. Yeah, I’d get them both done, for sure.”
“Nice!” As we slow for a red light, I turn to look at him. “So, we’re both getting poked today?”
Oliver presses his lips together thoughtfully, then peers at his reflection in the visor mirror. “Fuck it. I’m in.”
“Slay!” I shout, holding out my fist for him to bump.
“Slay!” Oliver echoes, bumping his fist to mine.
The tattoo shop is in an unassuming building in the middle of a strip mall. The business name, “Ink About It Tattoo Studio,” is displayed over the entrance, along with a few neon signs advertising that they also offer piercings. Inside, the walls are painted black but covered in framed photos and art pieces. It smells like a strange mix of incense and cleaning supplies, but it’s surprisingly not off-putting. There are a handful of other customers in the lobby, some actively speaking to a heavy-set bald man covered in tattoos behind the front desk, and others waiting on couches against the wall.
As for my “spontaneous decision,” I will admit I spent about an hour poring over Google reviews and Instagram accountsto find this place. It had the highest ratings for cleanliness, customer service, and helpfulness within the Atlanta perimeter.
“Welcome in!” the bald man calls to us from behind the desk. “Someone will be right with you!”
“Psst, Jude,” Oliver beckons me and tilts his head toward a flier on the wall. I come closer to read it:“Couple Piercings BOGO - Pay full price for one piercing, get a second piercing half off!”
Brows raised, I glance at Oliver inquisitively. “Couple’s Piercings?” I whisper.
Oliver shrugs. “A deal is a deal.”
I consider it. We could probably pass for a couple. I mean, would anyone even ask?
“Only if you’re comfortable,” Oliver adds, just as an employee with fiery red hair and half a dozen facial piercings approaches us.
“Hi, welcome to Ink About It,” she says with a friendly smile, her crystal dimple piercings catching the light. “I’m Bree! How can I help you today?”
I blank, anxiety wiping my mind completely. What the fuck am I doing here? This is stupid and reckless. I should leave.
