12. Dominic
CHAPTER 12
Dominic
THE VIRGIN’S DISCOUNT
17 YEARS OLD
“ I ’m warning you now, it’s going to hurt like a bitch,” Ray says, holding the tattoo gun like it’s a loaded pistol. “Are you a bitch, Dom?”
Ellie snorts, trying to stifle her giggle, but it spills out anyway. She’s perched on a stool a few feet away, flipping through a binder stuffed with Polaroids of Ray’s work. “Oh, he’s definitely a bitch,” she teases without looking up.
I roll my eyes, leaning back in the chair like I’m completely unbothered. “Just stick me, asshole.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ray laughs to himself.
He loves to give me shit. It’s only my second tattoo, but he was even worse during the first one.
The needle touches my skin, and fuck, does it sting like hell, but I keep my face neutral. Out of the corner of my eye, Ellie’s watching, clearly waiting for me to flinch. No way am I flinching in front of my girl.
When she sees that I won’t be bursting into tears anytime soon, she returns her focus back to the Polaroids .
To distract myself from the pain, I stare unabashedly at her. Her long legs are on display in the red cheerleading uniform she wore today for Senior Day, one of the rare times she wears bright colors. It might be my last time seeing her in it, so I commit the picture to memory. I know she can feel my stare because her creamy skin starts to turn pink, a slight flush overtaking her face.
“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Her eyes slide to mine, her blush darkening. “Feeling inspired to get one yourself?”
She’s not the type to get a tattoo. She’ll do other reckless shit, but nothing permanent. I’m kind of the opposite, more of a rule follower, and this is my rebellious outlet.
Arching a brow, she casts me a flat look. “Not a chance. My body’s a church…or whatever the saying is.”
Ray snorts. “Temple. The saying is ‘my body is a temple.’”
We both turn to look at him, blinking in unison.
“What?” he says, pausing to look between us. “I grew up Mormon.”
Ellie and I exchange a glance before looking back at Ray. At his wild hair spilling past his shoulders, tattoos covering nearly every inch of visible skin, and a leather cut hanging on the wall behind him, proudly displaying the patch of his motorcycle club. Nothing about him screams Mormon.
He notices our expressions and bursts out laughing. “No longer practicing, of course.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Ellie says under her breath, shaking her head as she flips the page.
As Ray works, I clench my jaw so tightly, I expect it to throb for the next few days. We’re only doing the outlining of the skull today, which means it’ll be a short session. Shading will be another session.
“Just about done,” Ray announces.
Ellie walks over to inspect his handiwork, leaning in close to get a better look .
“So, does the missus approve?” Ray asks, smirking.
Her smile turns shy as her eyes dart to mine, locking there. Ray knows we’re not even out of high school yet, nowhere near married, but I can see it—the way she likes being called mine. My wife.
And that’s the plan. Someday.
She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s alright.”
I shake my head, laughing. She knows it’s good but has to be a little brat about it.
Ray looks at her with narrowed, amused eyes. “This is my last appointment for the day. You sure you don’t want a little something? Most girls your age like butterflies. I’ll even give you the virgin’s discount.”
Her face flames bright red, misunderstanding him. She thinks he’s calling her a virgin, when really he means tattoo virgin.
“He means tattoos, querida mía,” I tell her quietly and her shoulders drop in relief.
“I don’t really like butterflies.” Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, clearly wanting to say no, but not wanting to be rude either.
“Don’t waste your time,” I tell him, grinning. “She’ll never get a tattoo.”
Ellie’s head snaps up, her competitive streak igniting in an instant. “Excuse me?”
I smile, already knowing I’ve pushed her buttons. “You heard me. You’d never actually do it. You hate pain. You can barely stand a flu shot. Besides, you change your mind every five minutes. There’s nothing you love enough that you could stand being permanently on your body.”
Her lips lift, eyes disarming me as they narrow. “I guess the only thing I love permanently is you.”
For a second, I’m stunned, her words catching me off guard. She’s smiling, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, like she’s daring me to say something.
Ray lets out a low whistle, enjoying the entertainment. “Damn, kid. She’s good. A little cheesy, but I like it.”
Ellie steps closer, her chin lifted in that stubborn, confident way she gets when she’s ready to prove someone wrong.
“You think I won’t do it? Fine. Let’s go, Ray. I’ll get Dominic tattooed on my wrist right now.”
Shit.
That is not where I was going with the teasing. I was thinking a flower, not my fucking name. “Ellie, you don’t have to?—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t backpedal now. You wanted to say I’d never do it, so let’s see if you’re right.”
Ray laughs a deep rumble, already reaching for his tools. “Alright, I’m in. Sit your little ass down, sweetheart.”
She hops onto the chair with an air of nonchalance, though I know her well enough to see the slight tremor in her hands.
Panic rises within me. “Ellie, it’s permanent. You don’t have to do this to prove a point.”
She ignores me. “Just make it small,” she tells Ray, holding out her wrist. “And pretty. I want it in script.”
How the hell did she go from not wanting a tattoo, to now knowing exactly where she wants it and how she wants it to look?
I stand there, dumfounded, watching as Ray gets to work. He traces it out first, confirming she likes the size and script style. Any minute now, she’s going to back out. No way is she actually going to follow through.
We’re not even eighteen yet, but Ray isn’t the most law-abiding citizen. If she actually does it, her parents are going to lose it .
“Seriously, Ellie, don’t do this. It’s not like you’re going to be able to hide it easily. I believe you, let’s just go.”
She looks up at me with raised brows. “Nope. I’m doing it.”
I can tell by her tone that she’s set on it, and arguing with her won’t get me anywhere.
Holy shit. Jack is going to kill me. I rub the back of my neck, already feeling the ghost of his hands around it, as a trickle of fear works its way down my spine. My chest simultaneously swells knowing my name will be on her skin. I didn’t think it was possible to be both terrified and turned on at once.
Ray starts in on the first letter and Ellie flinches as the needle touches her skin, her free hand gripping the arm of the chair, but she doesn’t say a word.
Wordlessly, I snag the seat nearby, scooting it until I’m next to her, grabbing her hand in mine. She instantly tightens her grip, letting out the pain the only way she can.
“You good?” I ask. I hate it when she’s hurting, even if it’s over something harmless.
She glares at me, pressing her lips together as she tries to tough it out. “I’m fine. Don’t even think about gloating.”
“Never,” I say, but the grin tugging at my lips gives me away.
My girl is getting my name tattooed on her.
I like the thought of my name on her skin. It’s almost barbaric how much I fucking like the thought of it. But I like something else even more—the idea that any asshole who thinks about hitting on her will see it and know she’s mine.
Ellie’s stubborn as hell, wild in a way that doesn’t ask for permission. She does what she wants, when she wants, and there’s no changing her mind once it’s made up. I’d never try to control her. But this is a possessiveness she’ll allow. And I’ll take it .
When Ray finishes, she lifts her wrist to inspect the delicate script of my name branded on her flawless skin. “Well?” Ray asks, wiping it down.
Ellie beams, holding it up for me to see. “Guess I’m the tattoo type after all.”
I shake my head, an erratic laugh tumbling out of me. “You’re full of surprises, Ellie girl.”
She shrugs, her chin dipping, pinning me in place with her pale eyes. “Your turn.”
“What?” I laugh. “You want me to get one too? Like a matching one?”
She gestures to the chair. “Only seems fair, don’t you think?”
Ray bursts out laughing. “I see what you did there, sweetheart. Smart girl.”
I sigh, but take a seat with zero hesitation. As if every tattoo I have—and every one I plan to get—isn’t already inspired by her. The roses etched on my forearm are her favorite flower, and the skull I had outlined today is a nod to the way she loves the dark and the beautiful—always dressed in black, listening to emo songs on repeat. She probably doesn’t even realize it, but she’s inked into my skin as much as she’s embedded in my bones. “Alright, fine. But if we’re doing this, I’m getting Elyse in the exact same spot. I’m doing your government name, Ellie girl.”
She smirks, looking far too pleased with herself. “Good choice, sounds more official.”
Once I’m settled, Ray gets to work, tracing quickly. As soon as the needle hits, the sting is sharp, but I barely notice. Out of the corner of my eye, Ellie watches intently, her face softening. She’s so beautiful, the way she takes everything in, the way her smile says so much, but only for me. I’ll gladly walk around with her name marking me like I’m the luckiest fucking guy to belong to her .
When it’s over, we stand side by side, wrists extended, her name inked on me and mine on her.
Ray shakes his head, chuckling as he cleans up. “You kids are either the dumbest or the most romantic people I’ve ever met.”
Ellie glances at me, her eyes shining with mischief. “We’ll go with romantic.”
I grin, pulling her wrist to my lips and press a kiss above the fresh tattoo. “Definitely romantic.”
When I go to pay Ray, I know for certain he’s undercharging me. My brows lift in question as he tells me the total.
“Just charging you for the skull. My cold, dead heart is throwing the names in for free.”
I’d argue, but I’m not exactly rolling in it. Instead, I make a mental note to make things right one day.
Ellie grabs onto my arm, dragging me out of the shop and onto the quiet, dark street toward my car. Her face is bright as she looks at me, a surge of adrenaline no doubt running through her. Fuck, I’m like a moth to a flame when she gets like this—powerless against the magnetic pull of her energy. I can’t wait for the day I never have to leave her side again. Until then, though, it’s late, almost her curfew, so I drive a little faster than normal, grinning like an idiot the whole drive there.
Getting the tattoos probably wasn’t the best idea, yet I can’t bring myself to regret it. It’s stupid, impulsive, and maybe a little reckless.
But it feels perfect. It feels like us.