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It’s twenty minutes or so by the time he comes back out, and I watch as he re-enters the room with a stencil that he shows me to make sure I approve. I do, and the excitement of getting a tattoo starts to settle in as he places it against my neck and pushes a lever on the chair that turns it into a flat surface instead.
“Get comfortable, though it shouldn’t take me longer than a couple of hours,” Arlo assures me, in a voice so happy he’s practicallyhumming. I do so, one leg falling off the far side of the tattoo chair, and I let out a sigh to calm my heart that pounds in my throat.
Arlo sweeps his fingers down the back of my neck, trailing over my spine, and I’m glad I remembered to put my hair in a high, tight bun to keep it out of this way.
“You okay?” he asks, in a voice that’s too husky and low to beprofessional. Though, I’m probably just imagining things since looking at Arlo is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do while I have the chance.
Maybe I’ll have to come back for another tattoo.Soon. If only so I can look at him and watch the way his face twists in emotions that confuse me a little and keep me guessing.
“I’m okay,” I reply, my own words a little breathless.
“I’m going to start, all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me if you need me to stop for any reason,” he adds, his fingers again curving and stroking over the skin he’s put the stencil on. He’s wearing gloves, and I can’t help but wish hewasn’tif he’s going to do this. The latex snags and feels vaguely uncomfortable on my skin. I’d rather have justhimtouching me.
Though, I quickly chase that thought away because I’m starting to get the feeling that he and Ezra are an item. I also hope he’s not smudging his own stencil, though I suppose if he were, he’d redo it.
The tattoo gun buzzes, and my shoulders tighten just a little bit, my instincts knowing that this is about to hurt, even though it’s nothing that I can’t handle.
“Relax,” Arlo purrs, his voice just barely louder than the gun. Is he like this with everyone, I wonder? Or just people who walk in and let him design a tattoo of his choosing with little input from the client?
Either way, his hand on my shoulder makes me relax my muscles, and when I drop more comfortably back to the table, the gun is at the back of my neck, and the slight bee-sting pain follows seconds after.
I can handle this. I let out a breath, my bodyactuallyrelaxing once I realize, again, that this is something I can deal with. It always takes a minute, just a split second, for me to remember that the pain isn’t that bad and that I can absolutely make it through this with ease.
Arlo doesn’t talk, and I don’t either. I’m too focused on the way it feels, and I’m too busy hoping my body kicks in with that numb feeling I get a few minutes into a tattoo that lasts until I’m fidgeting and wanting it to be finished so that I can go home, eat tacos, and sleep.
Though tonight, I might add a movie into that, and I’d rather eat tacos while watching something gory than just eating tacos and watching somethingnotgory. Call it a phase, I suppose. But horror movies and scary shit will probably always be the phase I’m stuck in. Along with decorating my apartment and dressing like it’s Halloween the whole year long.
“I should get a Ouija board tattoo,” I say without thinking, eyes closed against the cool vinyl of the bench under me.
“Oh yeah?” His voice is still that quiet, almost husky sound. And it’s still barely audible over the sound of the tattoo gun. I don’t know where happy, cheerful Arlo from the front counter went, but this new one is making my stomach twist and making me question my life choices. “Where? I’ve always wanted to do a full Ouija board on a pretty girl’s chest or stomach.”
That’s definitely a compliment, I think, though I’m not surewhy. Is henotwith Ezra, who I definitely got the vibe ofboyfriendfrom?
Before I can answer, a door slams, and footsteps get closer and closer until they’re in the room with us.
“We gotrealfood,” a soft, masculine voice announces with a laugh. I recognize it and assume that Ezra’s come back into the shop.
Arlo hums softly and presses a hand to the base of my neck before pulling back and turning off the gun. “You’re loud,” he informs the brunette who’s walked into the room, and I turn my head just enough that I can peek up from the cage of my arms to see that it is, in fact, Ezra standing right behind him.
But he’s looking atme. He grins widely and waves like I’m not two feet away. “Do you remember me?” he asks. “From the game store the other day?”
“The one who wants to kill all the stupid people?” I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to forget.”
Another man strolls in, a scoff ready on his lips and his black hair pulled back into a messy, loose ponytail. He shrugs off his jacket and lets it fall to one of the half walls of the other cubicle, and I can see that his arms are covered in tattoos, as yet more crawl up his throat.
When he turns to look at me, my stomach twists at the curve of a smirk on his lips and the way his eyes flick over me. “What did you end up doing for her?” he asks, walking over to peer at the back of my neck. “Isee.” There’s some hint of amusement in his words, though I’m not sure at what, and suddenly I can’t help but feel a little defensive of my newly-started raven and flower tattoo.
“She likes floral stuff.” Arlo’s own voice is slightly defensive and not nearly as affectionate as he had been with me. “I thought it would give it a little softness.”
“Because that’s what it’s missing,” the man still sounds strangely entertained, and when he meets my eyes, his smirk turns almost friendly. “I’m Ashe,” he tells me. “Theheadtattoo artist ofInkubus.”
“Sure you are,” Arlo laughs quietly. He runs his fingers down my neck and adds, “Can I start again?”
“We’ll be quiet,” Ezra promises, collapsing on one of the black sofas.
