Page 46 of Why Not Us?

He takes one of my hands in his, pulling it from where I’d been playing with my hair, twisting curls around my fingers. The touch of his skin against mine sends sparks through me and I find myself caught in those stormy grey eyes. The memory of when he’d put his hand into my hair at the barbecue, the intensity of that moment, makes me want to step closer. I want to kiss him again, the way we’d kissed on my birthday before everything got complicated, before I’d thought of all the reasons we shouldn’t be kissing each other.

“Hey, Nate,” someone says, breaking the moment.

He lets go of my hand and turns. I turn as well, finding a woman with long, icy blonde hair. She has a gorgeous, fine-line tattoo on her neck that looks like an elaborate necklace. I can’t see where else she might have tattoos because of her clothes.

“Sam. This is Adalie. She wants to talk to you about her first tattoo.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise. “First, huh? Cool. Have a seat. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I sit on one of the stools and take out my phone, finding the picture I’d shown Nate before. “I like this. I’d like something like it.”

She looks at the picture of the flowers on the woman’s shoulder, then looks critically at mine.

“Do you mind?” she asks, pointing.

I shift a glance at Nate, then pull the neckline of my dress down a bit. It’s my shoulder for crying out loud. Not like I’m undressing in front of him. Sam traces a finger on a line over my collarbone, around my shoulder to my back. “Around that area?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She grabs a piece of paper, the picture on my phone in front of her, and begins sketching. “You like these flowers? Or a different kind?”

“I don’t have a favourite flower, but I love roses,” I say. “For a tattoo, I like the symbolism of roses with thorns.”

She glances up at me with a smile. “I get it.” She rolls up a sleeve showing off a gorgeous rose tattoo. The flower itself is blood red, and it has a thorn with a drop of blood coming off it.

“Yes,” I say. “Except, I don’t think I want red roses. Maybe pink?”

“We can do pink. How many flowers?”

She sketches fast, much faster than I can. She asks occasional questions, and I answer them as best I can. While she’s working, my phone buzzes, telling me my brother, Elliot, is calling. I ignore it, saying I’ll call him back later when Sam offers to take a break if I want to answer.

In only a few minutes, Sam is done with the initial sketch.

“Let’s take a quick look at how this would fit,” she says, standing with the paper. She places it on my body, wrapping it around my shoulder. “This looks close. I’ll finish drawing it up and when you come in, we’ll do the finishing touches.”

I swallow hard. “When, um.” I clear my throat. “When do you think I’ll come in?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s go find Syn. She’ll get you booked.”

We return to the front. Syn is there, and she smiles at us. “Got everything you need?”

“Yep,” Sam says. “It’ll probably take three hours but book her for four, just in case.” Then she looks at me. “I gotta get some things set up for my next client. I’ll see you soon. And don’t worry. I’ll get you through your first tattoo. When I’m done, you’re gonna want ten more.”

I laugh. “There’s no way I cannot worry. But I’ll try. See you later.”

We get the appointment scheduled—Sam actually had a recent cancellation a few weeks from now—and Nate and I head back out to the parking lot.

“Are you coming with me?” I ask. “When I come back.”

“I thought I was,” he says. “It was my idea, after all.”

“Good. I mean. I could ask one of my friends, but you’re right. You dragged me into this. You need to come with me.”

He chuckles. I love making him laugh, even if it’s just a small one. “If I remember correctly, you draggedmeinto the wholeout of your comfort zonething. So this is all your fault.”

When we reach my car, he opens the door for me. “I guess that’s it for now,” I say.

“Unless you wanted to do something else.”

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