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“I drew them, but I didn’t tattoo them on. Come on.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he insists as he pulls my legs over and his up so they’re straight on the bench. I wind up straddling him, giving me a great view of the tattoo. “I trust you,” he says before he hands me the gun, and I steel myself to actually do this. Clearly, he’s a determined guy.
“Fine. But no moaning when I mess up.”
“I just want you to do a couple of token lines. If your hand is steady enough, you can do the whole outline.” I nod and he starts the gun up. It’s not as hard as I was expecting, especially with Ezra there coaching me through. Not that it looks anywhere near as good as his work, but the few lines I complete are okay.
“Right, that’s it,” Ezra says. “I think we’re pushing our luck now. We’re at the part where someone needs to take over.” He takes the gun from me, switching it off and placing it back on the trolley. “You did great.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t give me blood poisoning, which for your first time straight onto skin is impressive.” I gape at him, trying to decide if he’s joking or not.
“That was a possibility?!”
“Come on,” he says, lifting me down instead of answering and standing up with me. “I’ll clean this, and then we can eat and you can let me sketch your design.”
And that’s what we do. It’s surprisingly easy to let Ezra into my thoughts, and as he shows me different versions of my very first tattoo design, I marvel at how easily he slips into my headandmy heart.
