Page 54 of Why Not Us?

“Of course,” Sam says.

“It’s just, when I was talking, I was distracted from what you’re doing.”

“No problem. What do you want to talk about?”

But I can’t think of anything. I’ve lost the train of thought and all I can do is feel the tattoo machine dragging against my skin.

“What did you think about the Stick and Puck I took you to a few weeks ago?” Nate asks, his voice low and even.

I catch his eye and take a slow breath. We start a conversation about all the things we’ve been doing lately, what I’ve liked about them and what I haven’t. Honestly, there’s not much I haven’t liked.

“That’s it,” Sam says, suddenly.

I blink and look at her. “That’s it?”

She nods. “You’re all done. Let me wipe it down.”

When she’s finished, I go to the mirror again, staring at the ink. Beautiful pink roses, with delicate green leaves and sharp thorns decorate my skin. I absolutely love it.

Until I remember what my plans are for the rest of the evening.

“Oh my god,” I say, eyes widening. “I have a tattoo.”

Sam snorts. “That was kind of the point here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. But I have to go to my parents’ house tonight. They’re going to see this.”

“And?” Nate asks.

I can’t catch my breath and feel cold all over, except for my shoulder which is burning. “They hate tattoos. They hate all body modifications. Even Calista doesn’t have anything. Or if she does, she keeps it hidden.”

“But you have a belly button piercing,” he says.

“Which they’ve never seen. Nor will they. But this? I can’t hide this from them. Not forever.”

Nate turns me, gripping both my arms at the elbow. “Adalie. Doyoulike the tattoo?”

I nod. “I love it.”

“That’s all that matters. Fuck what your parents think.”

I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t understand, it’s not that simple. Then I close it, because maybe itisthat simple. Isn’t that the point of this whole exercise? To get out of my comfort zone? To show people I’m not the pushover they think I am?

Sam covers the tattoo with a clear adhesive bandage and explains some aftercare instructions, then walks us to the front where Syn is waiting at the counter along with Taylor’s friend Zach who is another artist at the shop. It’s apparently family-owned and run by Syn and Zach’s dad, the artist who did the sleeve with the bolder line work on Nate’s other arm.

Syn and Zach tell me how pretty my tattoo is and how it flows so nicely on my body. Sam lets me know that if I want any touch ups, to call in a few weeks after it’s healed, and she’ll get me in.

I pay and Nate helps me into the leather jacket, settling it carefully on my bandaged shoulder. We say goodbye and go outside to his bike.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I say. “If you’d asked me at the beginning of this year, I would have said I’d never get a tattoo.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks, handing me the helmet.

“No. I just know my family are going to be on me about it. My parents hate tattoos. They think… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“You want me to come with you tonight?” he asks without any hesitation. “Be your back up?”

I blink, startled by the offer, then smile as a wave of relief washes through me and butterflies take flight in my belly. “You’d do that?”

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