Page 5 of Strelitzias in Spring

My mom went through anOutlanderphase, and I heard the words “Sassenach” and “lass” too many times to count. At one point, she even played the audiobooks on repeat while cooking dinner. It was a weird year.

I’m staring at the Highlander’s profile, presumably CeCe’s cousin, when he shifts his gaze to me, and I’m greeted by shining green eyes, a sharp jawline with a dimpled chin, and a nose that has definitely been broken more than once. In a word, he’s stunning. Breathtaking, intense, and intimidating would also work. My body shivers under his stare, and I feel my nipples pebble against my thick sweatshirt. I’m not cold—the heat in this building is on full blast, and I’m in a sherpa—I’m attracted to him and the cool reception he gave us.

“Are you cold?” he asks, breaking me out of my trance.

I flush, mortified that he saw my full-body reaction to his presence.

“Ah, no. I’m okay,” I whisper, averting my eyes. I can feel his gaze linger on me like he’s not quite sure what to make of my presence. Unlike Ava and CeCe, who have known each other since childhood, I’m naturally quieter and more introverted. When I first met my two friends, I was shocked to find myself nearly begging for their company and inviting them to my home. I was even more surprised to find that they didn’t judge me for my studies, my fucked-up family situation, or the omnipresent self-doubt I harbor.

The weight of his eyes leaves me, and I take a deep breath, sucking in as much oxygen as my lungs can handle. Ava gives me a confused stare, but I just shake my head, willing her not to open her mouth.

“Okay, Wolfie,” CeCe begins, excitement in her tone. When CeCe came to my apartment earlier this evening to meet for a girls’ dinner with Ava, she collapsed into my arms as soon as I opened my door and told us about her loss; I felt guilt seep into my bones that the altercation with Devin and Dylan somehow contributed to her miscarriage. But her tears have dried, and the melancholy is missing from her voice. “I’m going to go first, then Ava. Serena is still on the fence about getting a tattoo, so we’ll give her enough time to decide if she wants one, okay?”

I look at Wolf’s face to see him raise one perfectly groomed red eyebrow. “What are you, my scheduler? Aubrey will kill you if you try taking her job.”

“If it means she has to deal with your grumpy ass, then she can have it,” Aubrey calls out from her seat by the desk.

CeCe turns to Aubrey, smiles, and offers a wink before turning back to Wolf. “Don’t be a pain in my ass, Wolfie.” Without any more preamble, CeCe walks past her cousin and through the first door on the left, as though she’s been here a thousand times and knows her way around the shop.

“After you, Celeste,” Wolf grumbles, trailing behind her.

“Okay, my little petunia, what are you thinking about getting?” Ava asks beside me, stealing my attention.

“Petunia? When have you ever called me that?” I ask, and she just shrugs. Rolling my eyes, I continue, “I’m not entirely sure if I’m getting one.”

“Liar, liar. You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want a tattoo, so give it up, Rena.”

“That’s not true; maybe I just wanted to hang out with you and CeCe. It’s been a while since we have all been together.”

“Well, you’re here now, so you may as well participate, right? It’s like, we’re all bungee jumping, so you should, too.”

I narrow my eyes at her, squinting at the rationale. “So you’re saying that if you and Celeste jumped off a cliff, I should follow because you’re both doing it? Ava, you’re describing peer pressure but putting a pretty bow on it and disguising it as friendship.”

“Anyway,” she scoffs, ignoring my response. “What are you getting?”

I sigh, giving up the pretense that I’m not seriously considering a tattoo. “I have a few ideas, but I want to speak to him”—I tilt my head in the direction of Wolf’s station—“before I commit.”

“You mean Wolf?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks heat at the mention of his name. Like a seasoned detective, Ava sniffs out my attraction and raises a brow. “Little Rena, do you think Wolf is hot?” she asks, nearly yelling the words.

“Shhh,” I hiss. “Lower your damn voice, Ava.”

“Oh my God, you do.”

I sigh, glancing up to make sure Aubrey isn’t paying attention to us before I respond. “He looks like Sam Heughan, just with tattoos and more muscles.” Ava’s brow furrows, confused by my response. “Jamie Fraser from theOutlanderseries.”

Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops. “Holy shit, he does. I can’t believe I never saw that before.”

I nod and look down, throwing myself into the act of looking through the book Aubrey gave me. The front of the book holds basic drawings and stencils, art that can be placed over and over again and hold a different meaning for each client. Though the images are beautiful, if not simple, I’m struck by the delicate script samples. The deeper I dive into the book, the more intricate and complex the artwork becomes. Gone are the generic roses and banner hearts, and in their place are full-body tattoos and intricate designs that serve as inspiration rather than stencils. My eyes gravitate toward a large man, face cut off, with a massive back tattoo that disappears into boxers before re-emerging on his legs. Though the tattoo holds no color, the artistry is so impressive that it looks as though the dragon, warriors, and flowers are going to climb off this man’s skin. The images on the back of the legs complement the scene on the man’s back, as it’s just a beautiful continuation of cherry blossoms and koi fish.

Ava looks over my shoulder, peering at the image. “Oh, that’s Wolf’s work. He competed for Tattoo of the Year in a competition a few years ago and used that piece to enter.”

“Wow,” I reply, not sure what else to say. His talent is undeniable.

“I know. Okay, I’m going to go check on C and see how she’s doing back there. Our girl may act tough, but she’s a little marshmallow,” Ava offers before standing up and walking to the back of the shop. I mull over her words; I don’t think anyone besides Ava would describe Celeste as a marshmallow. I roll my eyes, secretly thankful for Ava’s absence so that I can finally think and observe the tattoos in peace.

Though the illustrations and drawings are stunning, I keep flipping back to the samples of handwriting on the front of the album. Like a divine epiphany, I suddenly know what I want permanently inked on my body.

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