Page 56 of Flash

“I don’t have an Instagram.” He frowns.

“No, but the shop does, and they always credit you on the tattoos you’ve done.”

I almost laugh. I’m not sure if he’s being humble or if he really doesn’t have a big head about how talented he is.

“Huh. Tattooing has been my passion almost as long as I can remember. I bought this old tattoo machine from a pawn shop when I was sixteen and started giving myself some very questionable tattoos. I was lucky I never got an infection.” He laughs. “Piston and I would be down in my parents’ basement, smoking weed and giving each other the shittiest tattoos you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” I look him up and down, thinking about every inch of his skin I’ve spent weeks exploring at this point. “I haven’t seen any shitty tattoos.”

“They’re all covered up now.” He holds his arm up closer to my face, pointing to a spot on his forearm. “If you look hard enough, there’s still the ghost of those shitty line tattoos.”

I squint, but I can’t see anything other than the gorgeous ink that’s there now. I’ll have to take his word for it. I shudder at the thought of the two of them fucking around with a tattoo machine like that as teenagers.

“I can’t imagine being that brave.”

“Brave or stupid?” he says with a chuckle.

“Good point.” I snort. “I’ve wandered into a few tattoo shops over the years and almost got a little flower done, but I always ended up chickening out. It felt so permanent, you know?”

“Yeah, permanent is kind of the idea.” He smirks. “What kind of flower?”

“I’m not sure. I always just looked at the poster things that were hanging on the wall, which just have roses on them usually.” I gesture at the boards hanging on the far wall, filled with the same standard designs that seem to hang in every tattoo shop in the world—at least, the few I’ve been in.

“Nah, you don’t want flash.” Arrow shakes his head.

“Flash?”

“Flash, like premade,” he explains. “It’s fine for eighteen-year-olds who just want something to piss off their parents, but it’s quick and dirty, you know? It’s impersonal. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I look over at him, studying his expression with a warm feeling spreading through my gut. Why does it feel like we’re talking about more than tattoos all of a sudden?

“Okay, so if you don’t think quick, dirty, and impersonal are for me, then what is?” I take the bait.

Arrow straightens up, putting one hand on the railing and angling his body towards me. He puts his free hand on the side of my neck and drags his thumb absently along the edge of my jaw, looking into my eyes with a soft expression.

“Something special.” His words are husky, sending a happy shiver through me. “Something meaningful that you’ll be happy with for the rest of your life.”

My mouth goes dry, but I can feel my smile getting even bigger. I lean into him, putting my hand on his chest so I can feel the rapid thunder of his heart and the warmth of his skin.

“See, that’s what’s always held me back, I think. It didn’t feel like something like that existed…” I lick my lips. “Until recently.”

He dips his face closer to mine, brushing our noses together.

“Lewis,” he murmurs my name gruffly.

“Yes?” I whisper.

“Will you let me give you a tattoo?”

It’s not a proposal, obviously, but I swear to god my body reacts like it is. My fingers go numb and a giddy feeling bubbles up in my chest.

“Yes,” I answer with a laugh.

ARROW

I started running through design ideas the second he mentioned wanting a flower tattoo. I’ve done more than a few in the past, so I mentally flip through a variety of tiny flowers, from simple line work to watercolor daisies. I have the piece I just finished today too, a whole vibrant sleeve of wildflowers. It would be easy enough to isolate just one of those flowers and do a smaller version of it.

“Can I show you some drawings I have?”

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