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And why am I getting it done twice?
“Are you really going through with this?” Seth asks as the artist presses the design onto my skin.
I flutter my eyelashes back at him. “Worried for me, Garcia?”
Seth scoffs but doesn’t say anything.
“Alright, do you need a minute?” the artist asks.
I shake my head. “Ready whenever you are.”
Before the needle connects with my skin, I hear something like vibrating or buzzing. I hold myself still, waiting for the prick. My hands grip the edge as I feel the burn ripping through my skin. Yep. Just how I imagined it to be.
Seth smirks. “Not too late to stop now, Goode. I’m sure a line or two won’t be all that noticeable.”
I smirk bitterly back at him. “Nah, it’s not that bad, man.” I wink at him, and his scowl dissipates into wide-eyed irritation. “I expect you to go next.”
“Is he really doing it?” I hear Mike ask from the back. He pushes through the crowd, getting close enough to see, but far enough from the artist so as not to bother him. “Wow,” he breathes. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing it.”
My parents are going to kill me.
However, I’m twenty-one, almost twenty-two years old. I’m not a child anymore. And two ankle tattoos should be easy to hide at family gatherings, right?
“So, how long should this take again?” Seth asks in a sing-song tone while turning to the artist.
The artist lifts the needle away from me, and I watch as he takes a clean towel and wipes the blood away. He shrugs. “About an hour and a half each side. Lucy will be in soon, so she can handle the other guy.”
Seth claps a hand on Mike’s shoulder, making him jump. “Did you hear that, Mikey? Lucy will be in soon.”
I see Mike shudder and hold back a chuckle. Seth was right. Mike is definitely not going through with it. I suppose I should have pinned him down, as was previously discussed, but I didn’t have the heart to treat the dude so coldly.
Besides, I’m getting this tattoo more for myself than to actually prove something. For today marks the beginning of my Olympic training.
“You know what,” says Mike while looking at his empty wrist as if there’s a watch there, “it’s getting late. Maybe we go to Matt’s party after Alex finishes up here.”
Seth’s grasp on Mike’s shoulder tightens. “Are you saying you’re not getting a tattoo, Mikey?”
Mike scowls. “I’m not getting a tattoo tonight. I’ll get one later.”
Seth sighs and shakes his head before turning to the Sophomores. “And what about you idiots. Are you getting the wing tattoos?”
They glance at each other before shaking their heads in unison.
“Came here just to watch,” says one.
“Wanted to see what the fuss was all about,” says the other.
Seth swivels back to me, sticking out his bottom lip in a mocking pout. “Aw, too bad, Goode. Looks like you’ll be the only idiot on the team with wing tats. Guess you should have thought it through a bit more.”
“What are you talking about?” Mike asks incredulously. He waves a hand at my foot. “That looks fucking amazing. You’re going to be the coolest bro on the team.”
The Sophomores nod vigorously in agreement. “So cool.”
Seth’s jaw clenches, and I can see he’s having difficulty holding in his irritation.
“Why don’t you get one?” Mike asks. “If it looks cool on Alex, it should look the same on you.”
Seth takes a step back, his hands fisting. I can practically see the hair on the back of his neck rising with fear. “M-me?” he asks while pointing to himself.
