Page 19 of The Tattoo Artist

Catherine’s warning about how he was into more mature girls is sort of stopping me from thinking any further, what the hell would he want from me? A part of me knew that I should be more respectful of my parents’ wishes, but the rush and adrenaline were worth the temptation. With Cathy as my only other friend, I embraced my role as the ‘oddball’ at school, content with being unnoticed and avoiding unnecessary drama.

My focus was on getting through college without any hassles or torment.

But beyond Cathy, I found a special place in the hearts of Joey and Anna, his wife. They treat me like the grandchild they never had, and I cherished their relationship and the warmth they brought into my life. The love they showered upon me filled every piece of my heart, and I considered myself lucky to have such caring souls in my corner. I hop onto the bus, standing amidst the crowd, I held onto the pole.

A few stops later, I press the buzzer, signalling the driver to stop. Stepping off the bus, I could see the tattoo parlour ahead, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

Just a normal day.

I enter, the woman at the reception greets me with a soft smile. “Welcome, here for a tattoo?”

“I’m here to see Ares,” I reply.

She checked her computer, “name?”

But before I could say anything else, I heard Ares’ voice calling my name from behind. He signals for me to follow him, and I gladly oblige. I smile at the receptionist, who seems a bit tense, and trailed behind Ares as he led me into the same room as yesterday.

He closes the door behind us, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was still wearing the same shirt as before.

A teasing whisper escaped my lips, “you didn’t change your shirt?”

“I promised not to look at it, didn’t I?” Ares slips off his shirt and hands me a pen, I take it, setting my bag aside.

“I might take longer than two hours,” I warn, expecting some resistance.

“That’s fine,” he said, unfazed.

“Won’t your boss complain?”

“No. He won’t.”

With a flick of the pen, I place my hand on his body again, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my cold fingers.

“Fuck Alexandra, your hands are so cold,” he remarks, but I quickly withdrew them in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” I whisper, blushing slightly. “I warned you yesterday. I’m naturally cold-blooded.”

As I drew, my eyes caught sight of scars on his body, marking his past experiences. I graze my fingers over them, and he sucks in a breath.

“I just need to make sure it’s symmetrical,” I explain, my mind focused on the art in front of me.

Without thinking, I straddle him, sitting on his pelvis as I continue drawing. I lift my dress slightly, revealing more of my legs than I should have. His presence beneath me intensified the intimacy of the moment, but I didn’t let it distract me. I was determined to create something beautiful on his skin, to leave my mark in a way that felt uniquely ours.

I got closer to finishing, my hair fell around us like a curtain, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out. His finger gently pushes the strands behind my ear. This wasn’t just about a tattoo; it was about the connection we were forging, the trust we were building with every stroke of the pen.

He cares about what I think.

I don’t know why and neither does he, but it feels nice.

“I’m nearly done,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “just a few more strokes…and done,” I whisper, sitting up, but our bodies were still dangerously close. He mirrors my movements, sitting up as well, and now our faces were just inches apart.

His eyes, those eyes, seem to search my soul. They look at me like they had seen a part of me that no one else had ever witnessed.

The tension between us was electric, and I wondered if he felt the same intoxicating pull that I did. His eyes travels down to my lips, and I found myself biting onto the bottom of them, unable to resist the desire that simmered between us. It felt as if we were suspended in time, the world fading away.

His thumb gently grazes my bottom lip, pulling it from beneath my teeth.

Why would he kiss me?

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