Chapter Six
Altan
I stared in the mirror, my eyes glued to the new addition to my chest. My bear. My beautiful, beautiful bear. I couldn’t pinpoint any reason as to why, but it belonged there. It was as if my chest had been naked before Sothea permanently put him on my skin.
“It’s…it’s everything.” I reached up to trace the lines, but he placed his hand over mine and brought it down.
“You need to not touch it for a while.”
“Oh. So do I just let it be for a couple of days?” I could do that.
“Not quite.” He talked and talked about aftercare. I heard practically none of it. My mind was focused on his hand holding mine, still not letting go despite the danger of me touching my tattoo, gone. The warmth of his touch was everything.
“Do you have any questions?” He gave my hand a squeeze.
“What?”
“Do you have any questions about aftercare?”
“No, I think I’m good.” And by good, I meant I was going to have to look it up online because I’d retained absolutely none of it.
“I can give you some paperwork that explains it, along with some products you might want to try.”
“Thanks.”
Brent had come in, left a cup of coffee for me and one for Sothea, and made some excuse about needing to get back to the cat before skidooing out.
The cat didn’t need him, but I was glad he’d read the room so well.
There was something so personal about the tattoo experience. At least there had been for me.
Sothea put a bottle and jar along with some papers in a little plastic bag and handed it to me. The entire time, his sister-in-law sat there with a look on her face I couldn’t decipher. Was she amused? Maybe, but it felt like it went beyond that.
“I need to pay the rest.” I reached into my pocket to grab my wallet and could’ve sworn I heard a growl coming from Sothea. Except that didn’t make any sense. He was a person, not a bear. He couldn’t growl.
“You’re good. The fifty dollars was all of it,” Greta said. “Let me print your receipt.”
“Fifty dollars? The paperwork I signed said that was the deposit. And that the rest of the cost could be up to five hundred dollars before an additional consultation was needed.”
Another growl. What was that?
“Nope, definitely wasn’t for this one.” She typed away at the computer and reached into the desk before handing me a paper receipt. I didn’t know people still printed out receipts.
“I’ll walk him out.” Sothea’s hand touched the small of my back, and I wanted to lean into it to keep the connection going.
The tattoo parlor was getting more crowded now, and even if it wasn’t, he was a stranger.
Nothing more, no matter what the feelings stirring inside me said.
Maybe this was why people were covered in tattoos.
Maybe there was a dopamine hit like no other.
That was probably it. I needed not to read too much into this.
He walked me out, and it felt sort of date-like, an old-fashioned date at that. It shouldn’t have surprised me the way it did when he asked, “I was wondering if you’re free for dinner this week?”
My initial reaction was yes, yes, yes, all the yeses, every day if you want. But I had to keep those thoughts inside because my stupid, freaking coworker had decided to quit. “Um, I can’t. I’m going on a work trip. I’m giving some training. I won’t be here.”
“The week after?” At least he didn’t get turned off by me saying no initially like some alphaholes would be.
I held up two fingers.
“Two weeks?”
I nodded.
“Rain check, then?” Relief flooded me as he extended the invitation.
“That I can do.”
I unlocked my phone and handed it to him, and he did the same for me.
We both put our numbers in. I stared at his entry the entire way home.
In my contacts, he put himself in as Sothea Tattoo Guy with a little bear icon next to it, as if I could forget about my stunning new art piece, for that was what it was. Art.
Maybe it wouldn’t have felt so awful turning him down if I didn’t hate my job, or even liked it for that matter, but I did hate it.
Only, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wouldn’t matter what the reason was.
Not seeing him would be painful, and that didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that most of today had.
I wasn’t a guy who had one-night stands or ever dated somebody before I really knew them, but not leaning into his touch had been difficult. A one-night stand? No, that still wasn’t me, but maybe jumping in with both feet might be. Thanks to asshole Bob, I wouldn’t be able to find out.
I went home to find Brent there with Bunny Foo-Foo on his shoulder, wanting all the details.
I gave them to him, staying up way too late sharing every detail and answering all of his questions, which were plentiful, until it was time to go to bed or skip sleeping, thanks to my dark-and-early flight the next morning.
I got on my flight, put the phone in airplane mode, and leaned back, watching the random sitcoms they had available the entire flight. My mind kept wandering back to the day before, to the man that was somehow now invading every one of my thoughts.
I wasn’t one to play games, not when it came to dating, and I planned to message him when I landed, forming message after message in my head.
It didn’t matter if I was the omega or that we’d just met.
We exchanged numbers, which meant using them was on the table.
At least I kept telling myself that. I wanted to message before I took off, but if he was one of those people who kept his phone on at night, four in the morning wasn’t the best choice for a first reach out.
We landed at 11 a.m. local time. Turning off airplane mode, I saw he’d already left me a message and couldn’t get off the plane fast enough. For some reason, it felt too private for a cramped plane.
It wasn’t a simple Hi, how are ya. It was sweeter than that.
There were photos of three restaurants I had never heard of. The message, When I went on my walk this morning, I was scoping out places for our date, and these are three of my favorites. But if they’re too far from your house, then I’m open to suggestions.
I sent a message back telling him that I thought the Korean place looked really great and maybe we could try that.
And that’s how it began, our back-and-forth texting.
I’d tell him about my day; he’d tell me about his.
At first, that’s all it was, but by Wednesday, not seeing him was getting to me.
It made no sense. I didn’t really know the guy, but I had to talk to him.
Just as I was about to cave and make the first call, my phone rang.
Sothea. I looked down at his name and the little bear before answering. We spent hours on the phone that night, and not once was there a lull in the conversation.
The only other person I could talk like this to, without watching my words or being worried I was coming across poorly, was Brent, and he didn’t count because he was basically my brother. There was something about Sothea.
Please don’t let me mess it up. I think he’s a keeper.