Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
My shoulder aches under the weight of my backpack, but it’s not the only thing hurting right now as I step out of the subway station and head to NYPD headquarters.
I’m twenty-two today, but no one remembered. Not that I expected anyone to, but even Chiara didn’t say anything to me today.
That stung.
We had breakfast together like every morning, and she simply forgot. I try not to take it personally. She’s a teenager with other stuff on her mind.
Everything I do is for her…
… and she can’t even…
I take a deep breath, and I push the thought aside.
I can’t dwell on that.
Getting through classes was hard enough, and I still have my internship now. But after that, I’ve got my tattoo appointment. I smile to myself. At least that’s something no one can take away from me.
It’s only my fifth day here, but to my surprise, I already know the way to Sophia’s office and quickly join her in running the tests she is doing.
A couple hours in, we get a result that surprises me.
“See, this is what I suspected,” she says. “It’s definitely not your everyday drug.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” I say.
“Neither have I, but finding out what this is all about is going to be so much fun.” She grins at me, and I can’t help but grin back. “Did you just smile at me?” She laughs. “Oh wow.”
“I do smile… sometimes,” I mutter.
“Sure, I just haven’t seen it before. But Mr. Sexy Toxicology is making all the STEM girls smile.” She winks at me.
“Okay, that was just weird,” I say, trying to suppress a laugh.
“And that surprises who?” she giggles.
“Did you have too much tea today, Sophia?” I ask, only half serious.
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as too much when it comes to tea,” she says.
We continue our testing, and an hour later, Josh and Clay enter the office.
“Hey, you two,” Josh greets us with a smile. “Working hard?”
Clay walks over to my desk, standing behind me and peering over my shoulder at my screen.
“Ooh… this looks cool. What are you working on?” he asks, leaning in so his head is next to mine.
“I neither have the time nor the crayons to explain it to you,” I say.
He laughs, clutching his heart and giving me an exaggerated, pained expression. “That was cold, Karen.”
Any other day, my mask would remain firmly in place, but with my emotions all over the place, I can’t save myself from the smirk that forms.
“Oh my God,” Clay says, leaning into my space again. “Did you just smile at me? Josh, I can die in peace now. Karen just smiled at me,” he declares.
Sophia says, “It’s the day, not you.”
My head turns so fast in her direction. “What do you mean?”
“You smiled at me earlier too. It’s not him. It’s the day. Today is not a good day for your resting bitch face,” she says.
I huff. “I don’t have a resting bitch face. I’m just a bitch that needs some rest,” I snark, starting to massage my temple but wincing as I touch the cut.
I had forgotten about it.
Clay looks at me critically while Josh chuckles. “I can’t even tell if you’re trying to be funny or not.” I shoot him a glare. “Maybe not,” he grins.
“Do you need to get that checked?” Clay asks, pointing at my temple.
“Not that again, Clay. It’s nothing. Let it go.” I sigh.
“You have a headache and a cut. If the cut comes from a hit on your head, it could be a mild concussion,” he ponders.
“You wouldn’t know the difference between a headache and an idea.” I huff, hoping to deflect his watchful stare.
“Ready to go eat?” Josh asks Sophia, effectively defusing our bickering. But when she nods, he turns his gaze back to me, raising an eyebrow.
“Can’t. I have—” I begin before being interrupted.
“Another hot date today? By the way, how was the one yesterday?” Clay asks, looking amused. “You still owe me all the tea.”
“Yes, another hot date. And the one yesterday ended with him in bed, so I’d say it worked out exactly as planned,” I quip, my tone dry.
Clay’s eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, I don’t know if you’re fucking with me.”
“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” I say. I swiftly pack my backpack and stand. “I have to go to make it in time.”
“Have a nice weekend,” Sophia says.
The door dings as I enter Darkened Dermis, and my pulse races. Xander stands behind the register, bent over his tablet, looking like the Viking god he is. He’s dressed in all black, but this time, there is no beanie, and I can see his long, dark blond hair swiped up into a man bun.
My breath catches when he looks up, and his gray eyes meet mine. “Hey, Carolina. Good to see you,” he says, straightening and emphasizing our dramatic height difference.
“Hey,” I say, trying to contain the nerves threatening to shake me.
He hands his tablet to me and says, “Please fill out this form real quick before we get started.”
I do so, the task helping me calm down a bit. By the time I’m done, my hand is less shaky than when I started.
“Ready?” he asks when I hand the tablet back to him, and I nod.
He gestures for me to come around the register and leads me to the back, where the tattoo stool is located. On a short metal table, various sizes of stencils of my tattoo design are laid out.
I look them over, then back up at Xander, my eyes wide. “Oh my God,” I say, looking back down again. “It’s amazing. Wow.”
“Happy you like it. Let me see which size fits best,” he says, and I pull up my sleeve, baring my forearm. He holds the different sizes against the designated spot before deciding on one.
Xander puts the design just below the fold of my arm. “That will look pretty good,” he remarks as he removes the paper. “Take a look in the mirror. I think the placement is perfect, but we can adjust it if you disagree.”
I stand in front of the mirror and examine my arm. It’s exactly how I imagined it, and I nod. “It’s perfect.”
He points to the tattoo chair, and I sit, struggling a bit because it’s so high.
He prepares the black ink and the tattoo needle. “Your first tattoo?” I nod. “It’s interesting. I’ve tattooed a few of these before, but never with this wording.”
I gaze into his beautiful, big eyes and ask, “What do you mean?”
“Usually, people want it to say, ‘Memento Mori.’ ”
I smile. “Do you know what it means?”
He pulls off his black gloves and gets fresh ones from the table beside him. “Memento Mori, ‘Remember that you must die.’ ”
I nod. “My dad always told my sister and me that. He said we should appreciate the good things in life because our time here is limited.”
Xander tests the tattoo machine by pressing the pedal a few times, the buzzing sound making me shiver.
“So why didn’t you choose that phrase?”
My heart aches, and I speak softly, gazing down at the stencil on my arm. “The dead crow stands for that part, but after my dad lectured us, my mother always said that ‘Memento Vivere’ is much more important.”
He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Remember to live,” I whisper.
His expression softens, and his entire face seems to change. “I actually prefer your version more,” he says, moving his chair closer to me.
He reaches for my arm, but I’m so lost in my thoughts that I instinctively flinch away from his touch.
His eyebrows furrow once more. “May I?” he asks.
I hastily nod and offer my arm to him. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
He dips the needle into the ink and prepares to start the tattoo.
“I’ll make a quick line so you can get a sense of how it feels and what to expect.
If it becomes too painful, please let me know before you start twitching.
” His eyebrows raise, and if he was smiling, I would think he’s teasing me, but his serious demeanor makes it hard to tell.
So, I just nod. “Okay.”
The tattoo machine begins to buzz, and he lowers the needle onto my skin. It stings a bit, but it’s not very painful. I’ve endured much worse. I take a deep breath.
Pain won’t be an issue.
“You okay?” he asks, wiping my forearm with a cloth and looking up at me.
“Piece of cake,” I say honestly.
I notice a slight upward curl on the left side of his mouth.
After two hours of him working and me quietly watching, he finishes. No words were exchanged except for him occasionally asking if I was doing okay.
He wipes the fresh ink with a cloth, applying a jelly-like substance using a wooden stick. “Go take a look in the mirror before we wrap it up,” he directs, and I rise from the chair.
As my feet touch the floor, I wobble a bit from sitting for so long. He quickly grabs my upper arm to steady me.
“Easy, there,” he says, his large hands making my not-so-small arm appear tiny.
“Thanks,” I say, gently pulling away from his grasp. I stand in front of the mirror, and a smile spreads across my face. “It’s perfect,” I whisper. Tears well up in my eyes, causing my vision to blur slightly. I take a deep breath and turn to him. “Thank you so much. I absolutely love it.”
He nods and begins to retrieve Saran Wrap and tape to wrap my arm when the door to the shop opens with a ding.
I’m admiring my new tattoo in the mirror when a deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “You done, babe? Sorry, I’m a bit early.”
I freeze. I recognize that voice. I turn around and find Clay at the reception desk. Xander sets down his tools and walks over to him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. My mind feels like it’s about to explode.
The odds of Clay being with my tattoo artist are beyond belief, and witnessing those two tall, muscular, tattooed, hot men kissing is undeniably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but question my own sexuality.
I need to stop staring.
“We’re just finishing up. I’ll take some pictures, wrap her up, and then we can leave,” Xander says as he returns to the table, and I stand beside him.
I gaze up at Clay and see the moment it hits him. “Hey, Karen,” he smirks.
I don’t say anything, looking back down at my arm.
“Her name is Carolina,” Xander grumbles while taking pictures of my arm, holding it outstretched, his grip on my wrist gentle.