Chapter 14 #2
Rick never pushes the conversation but adds his little hums and haws where needed.
When conversion shifts toward family however, I notice Celeste stiffens slightly and quickly changes the topic.
It’s not the first time she hasn’t wanted to talk about family.
Frankly, it’s none of my business. I don’t like talking about it either because my family history is a quick and depressing story that no one wants to hear.
Who am I to judge Celeste for also not wanting to talk about it?
The only difference is that I found a new family, here at the parlour.
Between Rick and Vic’s mentoring and taking me in, and Nadine and Olly treating me like a little brother, I have all the familial love I can ask for.
“Annddd, she’s done. I’ll put the second skin on it once you have a look,” Rick gruffs out. “Take your time, go slow. Dom, go get her some more water, would you?”
Rick looks to me like I should have already had it in hand.
I grab a bottle from the mini fridge as Celeste sits up, rolling her shoulders out and cracking her neck.
I twist off the cap and hand it to her. She takes a few small sips and nods at me to help her hop off the chair.
I hold her hand all the way to the floor-length mirror on the other side of the open parlour room.
She takes a deep breath and turns, looking over her shoulder with the tattoo, her dress strap pulled down and tucked inside.
I barely even register what her finished tattoo looks like because the glow of happiness radiating from her smile fixes me to the spot. My heart pounds in my chest because that smile, so true and authentic, is the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.
“What do you think?” Celeste’s voice is barely above a whisper. I direct my focus to her shoulder and smile back.
It’s stunning. Intricate black and white lines weave together to create a clock tower with small flying figures dotting the sky behind it.
Illustrated below the tower are two sunflowers, and just below those are scrabble tiles that spell out “sunshine.” If someone had told me they wanted all those things in one tattoo I’d never be able to envision it, but Rick pulled it off.
The artistry and cohesiveness of all the parts of this tattoo are a true show of talent.
I clear my throat and look into her awaiting eyes, “It’s beautiful, Celeste.” Her smile deepens, warming her features. I turn, breaking our connection, “You did amazing work Rick, as per usual.” I tip an imaginary hat to him.
“That fine line work is going to age like a two thousand and eight Chantilly Merlot,” Olly adds with a nod of approval, then noticing our confused faces asks, “What? That’s a fine wine.
Get it? Fine line, fine wi—never mind.” He turns waving a hand at us, rolling his eyes and muttering something about “uncultured swine” before turning back to his own sketches.
After covering the tattoo delicately and walking Celeste through the aftercare, Rick sends her upfront to the cash register where Vic is waiting.
I go to follow but Rick holds my shoulder, “You make sure she’s all cared for, m’kay kid.”
I laugh a little, “Of course. But she’s a big girl, she can take care of her tattoo.” I give him a playful grin, one he doesn’t return.
“No, I mean take care of her.” He lets go of my arm and begins to clean up the station. “She is special and not just in her own right, but it’s obvious she’s special to you. Which means you’re probably special to her. So don’t fuck it up.” He narrows his eyes at me.
“Rick, we’re just…” I glance quickly to see if Celeste has heard any of this.
“Friends? Ha. You keep telling yourself that, but I’ve seen newlyweds with less affection for each other. Just be careful, of both your hearts.”
I’m a little shell shocked by Rick’s sentiment, I know he cares but I think this is the most heart-to-heart conversation we’ve ever had. I give him a curt nod and head to the front of the shop to meet Celeste, who to my relief has not heard a word of Rick’s little overshare.
“Hey, I’m all done with my bill.” She turns to me, looking a little drained.
“Great. I know we had snacks, but are you hungry at all?” I ask.
“Starved. A little woozy actually. Although…” Celeste raises her arms a little awkwardly from her body, “I’ll be totally honest with you right now, I’m very sweaty after that.” She gives a little embarrassed chuckle.
I bite into my bottom lip and hold in my laugh.
“So no fancy restaurants, then. It’s from all the adrenaline during the tattoo, totally normal.
If you’re a little woozy though, let’s just go to my place since we’re so close.
” I gesture toward the door beside the shop entrance that leads to my apartment, “Would you be comfortable with that?”
I’m not sure why I’m suddenly nervous, waiting the few seconds it takes Celeste to answer, but I feel my heartbeat thumping in my chest and my mouth going a little dry in anticipation.
“Nevermind Hoot—” I start.
“No! I mean yes! That sounds great.” Celeste beams. “I’ve actually been dying to see where you do all your downtime brooding.” She giggles and grabs my hand. We say our thanks and goodbyes to this tattoo found family of mine and I lead her towards the stairs.
This isn’t the first time I’ve brought a girl to my apartment, but for some reason it feels more meaningful.
I actually care about what she thinks of my space.
I try to keep my composure steady while she continues holding my hand up the flight of stairs.
I shuffle around with the keys to open the door and then let her step inside.
Immediately I see my home through her perspective.
Black furniture, industrial piping on the ceiling, scruffy red brick walls, messy bookshelves.
Suddenly my slice of solace seems drab and dreary.
It has no colour. It’s so opposite of Celeste.
My cheeks heat in embarrassment as I try to quickly form any sort of explanation for my lack of interior design skills but she beats me to it, “Well, well, well. You like black, eh? Who woulda thunk.” She quirks an eyebrow at me.
I scrape my hand down the back of my neck, “I know it’s not your cup of tea, Hoot, but, you know…sor-sorry?”
Her eyebrows furrow together in question, “Sorry for? Dom, this is your space not mine.” She huffs a laugh and begins slowly walking the perimeter of my apartment, her hand trailing across my black velvet couch in front of the TV.
She stops at a small closet door her hand resting gently on its surface.
She looks towards me, eyebrows raised in question.
“Linen closet,” I answer. She nods in understanding and moves towards another door and I supply, “The washroom.” She nods again, a small smirk playing on her mouth.
Finally she gets to the last door in my space.
“My bedroom,” I say, my voice suddenly pitched lower.
My eyes track her every reaction, her hand stilling on the door frame as we look at each other, unsure of what comes next.
Every second that ticks between us, the tension builds.
The heat from my cheeks has drifted lower, my thoughts swaying towards what Celeste would look like in my bedroom.
What she would look like on my bed, between my sheets, how I got myself off thinking of that exact thing.
I clear my throat and swallow, desperate to keep my composure and my face neutral.
Celeste inhales quickly. “So, I hate to put you on the spot but I’m still all sweaty. Would it be weird if I showered?”
* * *
It’s weird. Everything is weird. Celeste is in my shower. Celeste is in my shower, humming. Celeste is in my shower humming, naked humming, in my shower. Wet. And so, so very naked.
Get it the fuck together, Dom.
I don’t know where to put myself so I’m awkwardly sitting on my couch.
I had set her up with some fresh towels, one of my sweaters, and a pair of too-short running shorts that I found in the back of my closet.
After reminding her that even though she has the second skin on her tattoo to try and not get it wet, she promptly shooed me out the door. That was almost ten minutes ago.
Why am I so goddamn nervous?
I run a hand down my face and sigh, because the woman you’re falling for is in your apartment, naked and humming.
I get up and move to the kitchen, putting on some calm instrumental jazz to try and drown out her melodic notes that feel like fingertips brushing across my already too hot skin. I manage to get a start on something for us to eat.
I begin chopping away at a head of lettuce and over the next ten minutes have pasta cooking and a Caesar salad thrown together for us.
Simple but hearty food. I get carried away with my craft until I hear the creak of the bathroom door.
I look up to see a plume of steam escape the bathroom, Celeste following in its wake.
She stands there, worrying her lip and running her hands down the sweater, my sweater.
“Thank you for the clothes, I should have brought my own. A dress was definitely not the right choice, so thank you.” She meets my eyes as she chews on her lower lip again.
Something primal and claiming preens in my chest at seeing her in my clothes.
Her smaller upper body is cocooned in my sweater but her curvy lower body fills out those running shorts better than anything my imagination could have come up with.
I swallow down the heat rising in my chest and my less than savoury appendage and force my gaze towards the food before answering.
“No problem at all, Hoot,” I say as she makes her way toward me, folding herself atop a bar stool at the kitchen island where I work. Her braid is a little frizzy from the shower but not soaked as it drapes over her shoulder.