"Just saying."
"Co-owner's girlfriend helped decorate it."
"Oh. Is he here?"
"Not right now. I'm sure he's with her."
"You don't approve?"
"Nah. They're happy. It's good for them. Just—"
"Not for you?"
"Something like that." He curves the gun over the last letter then turns it off. His eyes meet mine as he moves backward. "There. Done."
There. Done.
I watch him pull off the stencil.
He takes me to the mirror. Marvels at my ink with me.
It's perfect.
You are not your mistakes.
"Come on." His fingers curl around my wrist. "I have to clean you up."
I'm buzzing. From the adrenaline and from his touch.
I follow him to the chair.
Watch him rub some ointment over the ink then wrap it in plastic.
We move to the counter. I pay with my credit card. Sign for a generous tip.
Stare at the new ink.
This is really on my skin.
It's really happening.
And he's there, next to me, offering me something. A tube of that same ointment.
"I'm guessing you did your research, but in case you didn't, wash it well tonight. Then use this. Same thing for a few days. Don't wrap it or bandage it. And no swimming for two weeks." He hands over the tube.
I nod. "Thanks."
"You still want that coffee?"
I press my lips together. Pull my backpack from the floor. "Yeah."
"I have an hour until my next appointment." His eyes meet mine. "You want some company?"
Chapter Six
Iris
It's a simple question, but it feels profound.