“I don’t need to look at the books.”
His eyes bore into mine.
“I know exactly what to get.”
“Just breathe, okay? You’re doing great,” Haze says, and I make a mental list of all the reasons why I’m an idiot. Getting a tattoo is already a pretty painful experience as it is, but my dumb ass had to go and get one on the left side of my rib cage which ranks pretty high on the don’t get a tattoo here scale. Before we started, I asked Haze what getting his sleeve had felt like. He said it was like getting scratched by a cat a few times. He was right on.
Except that the cat is a tiger.
And a few times is forty-five years.
“How much longer?” I blink back tears.
“Almost done,” Jeff, the person who will possibly be responsible for botching my tattoo and ruining my life, says.
“Why won’t you tell me what you’re getting?” Haze stresses. I told him it concerned us, but insisted on meeting with the tattoo artist alone to share what I had in mind. I also insisted that Haze keeps his distance. I want him to see it when it’s done.
Yes, I’ve been crying like a baby for a few hours, but the good somehow outweighs the bad. I feel free, happy. In a way, I’m rebelling against my mother’s expectations. Finally letting go of my need for her approval.
“Winter, I swear if you’re getting my name tattooed…” Haze warns.
“What kind of idiot do you take me for, Adams?” I turn to Jeff. “Is that even a thing? Do people still do that? Getting someone’s name tattooed?”
The tattoo artist smiles. “Sadly, they do.”
A few more minutes of never-ending pain pass me by before Jeff washes away some of the excess ink on my skin and tells me he’s done. He tells me all about my tattoo aftercare and asks me if he can post the tattoo to his social media. I accept. He puts a filter on the picture in front of me, presses Post, and sends me the final result. Swaying from side to side, Haze can barely contain himself. Then comes the time for the big reveal.
When he sees the ink under my left breast, he exhales a shallow breath, swallowing feelings that escaped his grasp. Somehow, he’s not as flattered as I thought he would be. He seems… rather upset, actually. I tell myself that it’s just a lot to live up to. If he were to dump me, he’d have to live with the fact that I have a constant reminder of him on my body, but it’s my decision, and I stand by it.
He speaks after a while. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wanted to.” I glance down at the picture the tattoo artist sent me in awe. It’s everything I wanted it to be. A single meteor surrounded by stars as it free-falls. A wink to the meteor shower Haze and I saw on the night of our first kiss. Actually, th
e meteor shower we missed because we were making out, but let’s not get technical.
That night on the beach is the moment that fucked it all up for us. The moment we knew we were screwed. Or at least, I did. Because that’s when I realized that I was falling for the one guy I shouldn’t.
Hard.
Some moments are so precious, some memories so important, that you want them to be more than a part of your story. You want them to be a part of you.
Forever.
And that’s what Haze is.
Just like the ink on my skin…
We’re forever.
Even if I lost him, even if we fell so far from each other that we couldn’t fall back, I’d always have a piece of our story. A story nothing, not even time, could wipe away. He hooks his hand around the back of my neck and crashes his mouth to mine, but somehow, this kiss feels like a promise. Like our lips made a deal. They say birthdays represent moving forward, growing up and welcoming the future.
Mine’s different.
Mine’s a trip down memory lane.
And it’s the most beautiful trip I’ve ever taken.
When I check the time on my phone, I realize that, while I’ve waited a long time for my birthday, time sure didn’t wait for me. It’s already past five and we’re mere hours away from the dinner party Haze organized.