Page 6 of Sins and Secrets

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jade, go take some measurements. Anything else?” The exasperation in his voice is palpable.

I bite my lower lip as Jade opens some drawers. “Um, it's probably not worth mentioning…”

Jade pauses, her hand hovering in the space between the counter and the desk. “If you're not sure, you should say it.”

My thumb tries to crack my knuckles but it’s silent, as always. A nervous habit. I suddenly became very interested in a balled up gum wrapper on the floor and push it around with my toes. “Um, last time I passed out a couple of times during the session. Or, at least, that’s what I was told. I don’t remember because when I stood, I blacked out and hit my head on the chair,” I mumble under my breath, shrugging. Almost as an afterthought, I add, “I got a small concussion.”

Lukas has moved from pinching his nose to full on scrubbing his face. “Jesus Christ. And you don't know where you got that abomination or who gave it to you?”

“Nope.” It was a drunken night in a college town. Boston, maybe? I can’t recall. But I still feel the soul burning betrayal of letting someone else’s ink mark my skin. I had promised Lukas he could give me my first tattoo. Five years later, he’s left cleaning up the mess of some hack that I didn’t even bother to learn the name of.

Lukas switches from rubbing his face to pulling the hair out of the back of his head. He turns away and slams the office door. Again.

Jade walks around the counter and leads me to the snack station. She points to three pitchers with various fruit infusions. “Drink some water, eat a snack, and we'll take good care of you.”

“Thanks. This isn't exactly my proudest moment.” I pour some strawberry water into a paper cup and chug it down like it can wash away the last fifteen minutes.

Jade pats me on the shoulder. “You're not alone. Everyone fucks up. At least it’s fixable.”

I’m not used to having someone comfort me, not like this. I never have emotional glitter bomb explosions. I’m the emotional cleanup crew. “How long does it take to get your hair like that?”

She twirls a curl around her finger. “Way too long.”

Well I guess I know one benefit to my hair… free time.

While we chat, Jade takes the measures of my mistake and walks it back to the office. A few minutes later, Lukas emerges looking way more composed than I feel. How does he do that so fast?

“Ok, here are a few basic ideas, pick what you want. All of them are pretty much the same amount of work. We’ll do two sessions. I’m not putting your body under any more stress than it needs to be. You need to schedule them two to three weeks apart. It should be healed by the wedding.”

He places the pictures on the counter. The first is a series of roses, very traditional. The second is a highly stylized ivy with a bouquet of flowers. But the last picture makes me gasp. It’s a hydrangea. Nana had one in the front yard and it bloomed in the summer. The pink and purple puffs were like pom poms cheering on the change of the season. I used to love summers—no school, a week with Angie at her parents’ beach house. And Lukas. “This one!”

He sighs. “I knew you were going to pick that one. The sessions will probably be closer to three hours.”

“But you said it was all the same amount of work. I don't want to inconvenience you.”

He shakes his head. “If this is the one you want, then it’s what you're getting. We'll get you prepped for your first session now.”

Annoyance wafts off of him like a fresh splash of cologne. I could always hear his emotions without him saying a word. It was in the way he breathed, flexed his fingers, or the cracks when he moved his neck from side to side. I’m fluent in his body language.

“Jade, can you prep her?”

Ten minutes later, I’m face down on a table, trying to get comfortable. And then it dawns on me, my ass will be on full display. Awesome. As if this wasn't already the most humiliating moment of my life. I will straight up die if a fart sneaks out.

He rolls on his chair to the front of the table. “You're shaking.”

“It's cold.”

“Waverly, you don't need to do this.”

I want to hide, and bury my face under a blanket of my hair. “No, I can't let Angie down. The dresses are already ordered. It has to be now.”

His gloved fingers push back my protective follicle blanket and his features soften. “You could’ve gotten this done by any artist. Why did you come to me?”

I should tell him I needed to see him before the wedding and get this awkwardness out of my system. Or make a joke about wanting to check out the shop in real life instead of stalking it on Instagram. It doesn’t matter, because before I can decide which tactic to use, the truth slips out. “I always felt guilty I let someone else tattoo me.”

He makes an angry huffing sound. “Now I have to fix someone else’s mistake.” His voice is cold. His fingers move down my spine until they hit the exposed skin on my back, his canvas. He presses firmly, securing me. He becomes my whole world, his face filling my vision, his hand the only warmth and safety I’m aware of. “I'll never hurt you, but you have to tell me the truth. No lies.”

“Honesty is my best trait.” I flash him a smile, but it’s not returned.

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