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A throat clears, Noah lets go, and it’s time for my tattoo. Jay directs me to lie on a cushioned table-like piece of furniture. I unhook my bra, move part of it out of the way, and lift my shirt. Noah sits in a chair by my head. I focus my eyes on his brown ones while Jay starts preparing me.
“Black ink, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you nervous?” he asks as he cleans the area of skin.
“Of course. It’s going to hurt.”
He laughs at me much like Noah did. “With what you’re getting, there will barely be any pain.” He stops to lift his elbow. “I mean, it’ll be a few minutes compared to hours like mine. But if you need a minute, just let me know.”
“Okay.”
“How’s that look?”
I glance down to see a purple outline of Noah’s name. It seems fine to me, but I make Noah check, too. The look on his face is priceless. This is even better than I thought it would be. I wonder if that’s how I look when I see his. This might just top my short list of good decisions this year.
“Looks great,” Noah finally says. He sits down, kisses me again, and pulls away with a grin. “Love you.”
“Love you more,” I mutter with a wince as a buzzing sound fills the air. I officially have no clue how I stood by and watched Noah do this. My jaw clenches at the first sign of pain.
“Relax, Mere,” Noah quietly orders.
“I am,” I grit.
He laughs. “I didn’t know you were such a baby.”
“I’d rather injure my shoulder again.” Okay, it’s not that bad, but it’s not enjoyable either.
“Hey,” Jay starts, getting our attention. “Can I get a pic of you before y’all leave?”
“Absolutely,” Noah replies.
“Can you finish the tattoo before fangirling over my boyfriend?” I ask in a sugar-coated tone.
Jay laughs. “I like her,” he tells Noah.
“Me too.” Noah squeezes my hand. “And Mere, it’s fiancé, yeah?”
That gets me to smile. “Right back at ya. You called me your girlfriend just a few minutes ago.”
“She’s got you there,” Jay laughs.
Noah just shakes his head, but it’s with a smile. A few minutes later, the tattoo is done, Jay tells me what I need to do to care for it as it heals, and then he gets his picture. Noah also signs a Rebels poster hanging in the lobby.
Just like I thought, Noah drags me to the bedroom when we get home for possibly the best sex ever. Life is better than good. If I could find a word to adequately live up to just how good, I’d use it, but I’m not sure a word exists that could measure up.
Do you know what it took for Noah to download Instagram and make a post?
Me getting a tattoo.
When he came back from New York, where they lost 2-0, he wanted to take a picture of me. He told me, “Lift your shirt and smile.” So, I did. I had to tell him how to tag me and we didn’t even discuss hashtags because when I merely mentioned it, he was confused. He posted it with the caption of, “Her name has been on my chest since I was eighteen. Never expected she’d do the same. Love my fiancée.” I told him how he could add a heart, too, so he put that at the end.
That picture has gotten more likes than any of his others. I had to tell him how to turn the notifications off because he started cussing when his phone kept showing notifications at the top. I don’t know if he’ll keep it up, but if he never posts again, we still made progress. I also warned him about comments. People sometimes feel the need to share their opinion, especially when they don’t know your life, and it’s often best to not even look.
“How did it feel to get a tattoo?” Kira asks me as we work on her shots closer to the net after practice.
“Are you stalking us on Instagram?”
