“Keep telling me about your girl. What’s she like?”
What’s Blake like? “God, where do I start? She’s stubborn as all hell. Feisty. Funny.”
“Hot?”
“Of course.”
“Does she have tattoos?”
“A lot. That’s actually how we met.”
“So you’re saying there’s a chance?”
When I glance up at her face, she winks at me, clearly joking, before laying her head back down.
“Trust me, if anyone knew what was really running through my mind these days, nobody would want me right now.”
“Let me guess, it’s just constant images of her naked?”
“Not…all the time.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”
“I think a lot about what I could have done differently, and wonder if it would have made any difference.”
“If she’s as stubborn as you say she is, I kind of doubt it.”
“Possibly.”
“Have you tried a big, romantic gesture?”
“I’m pretty sure she’d rather eat her own foot than have someone perform a big, romantic gesture for her.”
“Hmmm, I see the predicament you’re in.” A moment of silence passes as I concentrate on the final details of my work. “I would kill for someone to do a big, romantic gesture for me…”
“Done.”
“What? Really?”
“Yep. Let me just wipe it here.” I put the green soap on my paper towel and wipe the rest of the loose ink off her skin. “Here...” I grab her hands and help her to a sitting position. “Take your time getting up, you’ve been horizontal for a while. When you feel ready, you can take a look in that mirror over there.”
“Whoa, head rush. “
“Take your time.”
While I wait for her, I slowly start to clean up my materials.
“Holy shit, this is so fucking cool.”
A wave of emotion hits me as those words echo in my brain, but in Blake’s voice. That’s exactly what she said when she took her first look at the tattoo I did for her.
Fuck, I miss her.
“Glad you like it.”
My back is to her, so she can’t see the tears welling up in my eyes. I’m so pathetic. Is it always going to feel like this? Will everything remind me of Blake like everyone once reminded me of Daisy?
It dawns on me that Blake is the first girl since Daisy that I’ve compared people to. People who never came close to making me feel what I felt for her. My chest tightens at the realization that I’m grieving the loss of Blake. Obviously, in a different way than I mourned Daisy after she died, but similar to how I mourned all of our lost potential every time she rejected me.
