Page 56 of When Fate Breaks
“Sure,” Carlos replies, raising a brow.
“Great,” Blake says, dropping my hand and walking over to Carlos’s table, picking up the sketchpad laying on it. He quickly scribbles something down, showing it to Carlos and blocking my view with the notebook as he whispers to him, pointing back to the page to confirm details of whatever is about to be permanently inked onto my skin. The longer their conversation goes on, the more nervous I get.
“Um, you saidsmalldidn’t you?” I ask hesitantly. “It’s like you’re planning a mural over there.”
“Yes, small,” Blake confirms. “Stop stressing and tell Mike what I’m getting.”
“Oh,” I blurt. I was so focused on the fact that Blake is about to pick something that’s going to be drawn on my body for the rest of my life that I completely forgot I would be doing the same for him. How am I supposed to do that?
“I– What do you want?” I ask Blake.
“Nope, not how the game works,” Blake says.
“This is a game now?”
“Just pick something,” Blake says, ignoring my question. “I trust you.”
“That makes one of us,” I gulp. “I mean, this is a lot of pressure. How do I–”
“Evangeline.” He locks eyes with my over top of the sketch pad. “Stop overthinking it. Just pick the first thing that comes to your mind.”
I blow an anxious breath out of my nose. “Okay,” I say, turning to Mike. I do as Blake says and whisper the first thing I think of to him.
“Easy enough,” Mike confirms.
A few minutes later, Blake and I are both sitting in chairs facing each other, our respective small stencils ready to go.
“So, where are we putting these?” Mike asks. Blake looks at me, giving me a nod telling me he wants me to choose.
“Oh, um…” I lift up my arms, glancing over my body, trying to think of a spot that could easily be hidden the majority of the time but also would look good with a tattoo on it. I twist my right arm to the side, zeroing in on a spot on my upper inner bicep. Literally any short sleeve shirt would cover that, and, even without sleeves, that spot would so rarely be on display unless my arm was straight in the air. “How about here?” I ask, pointing to it.
“Works for me,” Blake agrees.
Carlos and Mike clean the same small area on both of us. “Alright, good to go. You ready?” Carlos asks me. I nod, biting my lip as the tattoo machine starts up.
“No peeking,” Blake says as Mike starts his machine as well.
“You either,” I shoot back.
* * *
Five minutesand a few cat-scratch-like pains later, Blake and I are standing in front of a mirror and I’m questioning my life choices.
“We really just did that, didn’t we?” I ask.
“We did,” Blake grins.
“How much do you think tattoo removal costs?”
“You haven’t even looked at it yet.”
“Ugh, I know. I just feel like I should be prepared. Who knows what you did to me.”
Blake’s head tilts, his eyes softening. “You think I’d purposely put something you’d hate permanently on your body?”
“Not necessarily something I’d hate. Just something you’d get a kick out of? Like a skull and crossbones with crossed tools instead of bones because of the hardware store? Or a piece of pineapple pizza with an X through it? I don’t know–”
Blake’s mouth hanging open causes me to pause. “How… Did you peek?” he whispers.
