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“Can I get my friend to write it down?” I asked. I had heard of people getting tattoos in a person’s handwriting and I knew Avery’s handwriting was nicer than any of these fonts.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed a pen and paper, leaving Trace and I alone.
“The fonts are kind of sucky,” he commented.
Justin returned in no time, holding up the piece of paper for my inspection. “Perfect,” I replied, and he went to work transferring the word onto another type of paper.
“What are you getting?” I asked Trace.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he chuckled.
“I told you what I was getting!” I cried.
“You’re just going to have to wait and see,” he smiled. “Patience.”
“Ready?” Justin asked suddenly.
I sat back in the chair. “Yep,” I held out my arm for him to place the word on my skin.
“Is this where you want it?” He asked, before pressing it in.
I looked in the mirror and instructed him to move it a little bit. “Perfect,” I told him.
“What color ink do you want?” He asked, putting on gloves.
“Black,” I answered.
I took a deep breath as he got everything ready.
“Ready?” He asked again, holding the tattoo gun in one hand, and sliding a stool over.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, and felt Trace’s hand grip mine.
“Look at me,” Trace commanded, “it’ll be over before you know it.”
I nodded at Justin to start and then locked my eyes on Trace. He distracted me by talking about random things, and at one point, he started kissing me, which Justin scolded us for, because I started wiggling.
“Done,” Justin announced, laying the gun down on a table. “Want to see?”
“Of course,” I replied giddily. I stood up and he closed the door, revealing a floor length mirror. I held my arm up and couldn’t help the goofy smile that formed on my face. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
The tattoo was small and simple, but I loved it. It was perfect for me and the meaning behind it was what mattered. All I was doing, was trying to live my life, and this tattoo would remind me of that every day.
live
I knew that I couldn’t have picked anything more important to put on my body.
When I finished looking at it, Justin rubbed some kind of ointment over it, and taped a bandage around it, going over the rules for keeping it clean.
He finished and I turned around to see Trace removing his standard plaid shirt and then yanking off his white t-shirt by hooking his thumbs into the back collar.
His back muscles rippled and flexed, causing my heart to stutter.
Unlike the last time I saw him shirtless, I forced myself not to get distracted.
I noticed that there was a fleur de lis tattoo between his shoulders. Low enough that it didn’t peek out of his shirts, and small, maybe only three inches. There was also some kind of script on top of his shoulder but I couldn’t read what it said from where I stood.
“What are you getting today?” Justin asked, disinfecting the equipment.
