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"Because it's a badass job. Because you run your own business, and deal with clients, and create designs. Because you're impressive."
"I'm not."
"You are," she says. "You impress me all the time. The way you ignored what your parents wanted for you. The way you went after your dreams. It takes courage. Not everyone is good at it."
"Is this about me or you?" I ask.
"It's about us," she says. "You're always so impressed with my mind and I love that about you. I do. But I wish you'd see your own skill there."
"My mind?"
"Your mind. Your job. Just you. If you have these other ambitions, great. I want to support you there. I want to see your new business kill it. But if it's about impressing some asshole with a master's degree, don't. Because nothing impresses those assholes."
"Nothing?"
She nods. "Maybe a Nobel Prize. But nothing short of that."
"They have one for tattoos yet?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Damn. There goes that."
She stands and moves toward me. "It is a sore spot for you." She shifts back to a serious tone. "Did I say something?"
No. It's not that. It's what she does. "You always date smart guys."
"Smart guys are the ones who want to date me," she says. "Besides, you're smart."
"I am?"
"In your way, yeah."
"But not in the conventional way?"
"And if I said I'm not pretty in the conventional way?" she asks.
"I'd tell you to snap a shot of your tits and put it on Reddit and we'll see how many dudes want to motorboat you."
"Oh my god, Dare, I'm trying to have a moment."
"I know."
She nods yeah, and I know you're afraid of this kind of honesty. "I love that you don't try to prove you're smarter than I am. So many guys do that. Especially in my film classes. If I recommend an American classic, they recommend an Italian classic. If I recommend a French new-wave film, they recommend a German film. Whatever it is, they have to prove they know more."
"All of them?"
"A lot of them. And it annoys me too. Why can't they acknowledge my contributions? My ideas? My mind?" She offers her hand. "But I can't let it get to me. Because they do that with everyone, about everything. Whatever it is, it's not enough."
I take her hand.
"And I don't want you to buy into that bullshit. Because you are enough." She pulls me closer. "Even if you make less money or work a less prestigious job or score lower on the SAT."
"You're gonna bring the SAT into this?"
"You improved your score fifty points by studying," she says. "I bet I could have got it up another fifty."
"So I'd be right in the middle of the bell curve."
"So?"
"So? Won't you get bored with me?" There it is. The full story. She's brilliant and I'm just not.
"Dare."
"You're used to hanging out with smart guys who have shit to say. Guys who stimulate your mind. I can't do that."
"You already do."
"I do?" I ask.
"Yeah, stupid." She wraps her arm around my waist. "Teasing you is my favorite stimulation."
"I don't mean that kind."
"Me either." She looks up at me. "The way you banter with me. The way we talk about movies. Yeah, I'm usually the one with more to say, but you have a different perspective, and I love that I get to hear it." She slips her hand under my t-shirt. "Do you want to do it? The tattoo thing?"
"I might."
She presses her palm against my skin.
"I don't know if I want to work at Inked Love forever."
"Really?"
"Don't tell Tricky. He'll miss me too much."
She nods he will. "Because you want to live in Irvine with me?"
"In a planned community?"
"With an outrageous H.O.A.," she says.
I can see it, actually, the two of us with a picket fence and a living room full of art films and neighbors who think we're a bad influence. We can be misfits there, together. "I don't want it now. But one day, I want more. I want to be able to go somewhere else, do something else."
"You want it for you?"
"Do you only want to look hot for you?"
"That's not the same," she says.
"Isn't it?"
She bites her lip. "Okay. There's a comparison. I want to look sexy because it makes me feel sexy. But I also want you to find me sexy. And my idea of sexy is shaped by the societal ideas around me. Okay, I see that. But I don't want to be a part of that."
"Bad news. You're sexy."
She doesn't take the bait. "I don't want to be a part of you feeling bad about your ambitions."
"You're not."
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Very."
"And you'll always make me feel sexy?"
"Of course." I press my lips to hers. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you now."
"It could."
"It could, yeah, but it doesn't." I pull back and take her hand. "We gotta do our couple shit first."
