15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
The guy has a thigh tattoo. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter, he sends me a picture that gets me way too hot and bothered so early in the morning. It’s been three days since he sent me that photo, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. How I didn’t notice a flipping thigh tattoo at the cabin I will never know.
We’ve been texting like teenagers since that first night I fell asleep texting him. We’ve sent each other multiple pictures since then, mostly him sending me pictures of his cat, Hagrid, yet I still find myself scrolling back to the top to look at the photos of his tattoos.
Sure, to look at his tattoos , the voice in the back of my head says. It’s not wrong, I’ve found myself more hot and bothered than ever in the last three days. I told myself my slip in the shower was a one time thing, and it has been. However, I can’t deny that he’s crossed my mind more than once since the last time I saw him.
“What’s got you blushing there, Han?” Lacey says from my left, bringing me back to the massage chair I’m sitting in and the lady currently taking care of the calluses under my feet.
“Must be a boy,” Rose, the nail technician, says.
“Must be Ian,” Ellie says from my other side.
“Must be,” Lacey says.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Was that a ‘yes’?” Lacey asks in a singsong voice.
“Fine, I was thinking about Ian and his damn tattoos,” I say in a huff.
“We love a man with tattoos,” Ellie’s nail tech says with a dreamy sigh.
“Got that right. I swear that’s the only reason I agreed to go on a date with JJ,” Ellie says. “You never told us how your date with Ian went by the way.”
“It wasn’t a date,” I say with an eye roll.
“Did he pick you up?” Ellie asks.
“Yes.”
“Is he the one who asked you to go?” Lacey asks.
“Yes.”
“Did you eat food together?” Rose asks.
“Yes,” I answer a third time.
“Then it was a date!” All three speak at the same time.
“Guys, it was not a date,” I reiterate.
“Fine, believe what you want to believe,” Lacey says, full of sass.
“Have you talked to him since?” Ellie probes.
“Yes, we’ve actually talked every day since . . . well, texted,” I answer, looking down at my toes that are currently being painted a soft lavender color.
“Every day?” Lacey asks.
“Yes, every day. Thanks for giving him my number by the way,” I say, looking over at her.
“You’re welcome, I’ll take my payment by way of you naming your first child Lacey—Lacey Morrison. Has a good ring to it.”
“Oh my God, we’re not even dating! He’s just helping me get some stuff crossed off my Bucket List,” I say without thinking, and before I know it both Ellie and Lacey are squealing and asking me if his dick matches his big-dick energy.
“He’s helping me get a tattoo,” I say, exasperated.
“But I’m sure he wants to help out with the rest,” Ellie says with a wink.
“Yeah, we all saw him staring at your ass at the bar,” Lacey adds.
“He was not staring at my ass,” I say, looking at Lacey. “And he doesn’t know about the spicy stuff on my list. I only told him the boring stuff.”
“He was staring,” Ellie adds.
“Honestly, guys, he’s just being polite since I’m Levi’s roommate.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to think,” Lacey throws out, “Aren’t you hanging out with him again this afternoon?”
“Kind of,” I say, feeling myself blush again. Jesus, why can’t I stop blushing when talking or thinking of this guy? I’ve never been a blusher. I’ve never really been shy or even really cared about what others think, but this guy makes me feel like a teenager with her first crush. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so giddy. “We’re grabbing coffee and then going to meet with his tattoo artist.”
“He’s buying you more food?” Rose asks.
“No, coffee.”
“Coffee is the most sacred food group,” she answers matter-of-factly. “He’s buying you food, it’s a date,” she says in a no-nonsense tone.
“It’s not a date,” I say, repeating myself. I don’t want it to be a date. I need to settle into myself before I start dating again.
After getting mani-pedis with Ellie and Lacey, I walk the few blocks from the nail salon to the coffee house where I’m supposed to meet Ian.
The minute I walk in I spot him. He’s sitting in a back corner wearing a tight black t-shirt and a backwards hat. A thigh tattoo and a backwards hat.
Looking up, I thank the lord that he did not grant me a dick, because this would be awkward. Good God, this guy just pushes all my buttons. Maybe Lacey was right and I need to get laid. Or maybe I just need a new and improved B.O.B. Yes, that’s what I’ll do tonight, shop for a new B.O.B. That way I know for sure I’ll leave the bed satisfied. B.O.B. never lets his girl down—always polite and makes sure I finish first. With a plan firmly in place for later when I get home, I make my way over to where he’s sitting.
You know it’s his touch you’ll be thinking about the entire time, might as well get the real thing , the little devil on my shoulder says.
He’s not wrong. I’ve never been sex obsessed, or boy obsessed; always preferred to be level-headed when it came to boys. Always tried to make the best choice, and not be ruled by my hormones. And look where that got you, the voice continues. Maybe I should switch things up and think with my hormones instead of my head.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I decide to just enjoy my afternoon with him and let what happens happen.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I say, pulling his attention away from his phone and taking a seat across from him.
With a smile he looks at me. “Just long enough to order you your favorite iced coffee and to take the liberty of ordering you my favorite pastry: the almond croissant,” he says with a flourish.
“Thank you, “ I say with a blush as I sit down. “I’ve never had an almond croissant.”
“Well then, you’ve been missing out!” he says, taking a bite of his own. “Fair warning though, they are messy,” he continues after taking a crumbling bite.
Taking a bite, making sure I don’t get crumbs or almond shavings all over myself, I can’t stop the moan that slips out of my mouth, making my cheeks heat up once again.
Doesn’t matter what this guy does, he has me blushing like a sixteen-year-old girl with her first crush.
“I’ve clearly been missing out,” I say once I’m half done with the pastry.
“I know right! I discovered these during my one and only hockey season away from Calgary,” he says between bites.
“Where did you play?”
“I played half a season in the QHL, out in Moncton, New Brunswick. The billet family I lived with used to take me to a small pastry shop at least once a week. It’s where my love affair with these things started,” he says as he pops the last piece of the pastry in his mouth, making even that look hot as sin.
Shaking my head, I sip my latte and take in the coffee shop. It would be the perfect place to come write. Dim lighting, exposed ceiling, soft instrumental music playing in the background, along with the whirl of the espresso machines. The brown, neutral tones and lush green plants scattered around the rough tables and leather seats are just as inviting as the smell of fresh coffee that hangs in the air. The perfect place for the perfect meet cute in my book . . .
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Ian asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Turning my attention back to him, I say, “Sorry, I’m being rude. Just stuck in my mind, thinking about my book.”
“What about your book?” he asks as he leans back into his chair sipping his coffee.
“Nothing important.”
“Come on. You’ve been working on it nonstop, tell me what you’re thinking about,” he responds as he continues looking at me. “Unless you don’t want to. That's fine too.”
“It’s not that, I just don’t want to bore you,” I answer, looking down at my hands that are wrapped around the plastic cup of my latte. Lucas never wanted to hear what I was working on.
“You won’t bore me, I promise,” he says, tapping his pinky against mine that’s tightly wrapped around my cup.
“Fine. I was just thinking that I should come write here some day, and that I need to change my meetcute from the park to this coffee shop,” I say as I continue to look around, mentally taking notes of the place.
Before he can answer, his phone vibrates on the table. “And that would be our cue to make our way over to the tattoo parlour. Unless you want to keep scoping out the place.”
“No, we can go. But I am definitely gonna come write here sometime.”
“Let me know when, and I might come join you,” he says as we stand up, placing a hand on my lower back, giving me a small shiver, as we make our way to the front door.
“You just want an excuse to get your hands on one of those croissants,” I say with a smirk as I walk by him through the door he’s holding open for me.
“You got me there,” he says with a deep laugh as he guides me to cross the street, where he opens the door directly in front of the coffee shop and up a flight of stairs. “But I do enjoy a good book.”
Once we arrive at our destination, I’m taken aback. This is not what I thought a tattoo parlor was supposed to look like. The walls are pink, there are plants everywhere, and Taylor Swift playing in the background. A large aquarium near the front of the studio with multiple tropical fish darting around catches my eye. And in front of it, a girl about my age with bright pink hair sits at the desk drawing on what I’m assuming is an iPad.
The minute she spots us she’s walking around the desk to give Ian a hug. “Ian!” she says as he lifts her off her feet, instantly filling me with jealousy. While I shouldn’t be jealous, I can’t be jealous. We’re just friends. I’m six years older than him. I’m barely divorced.
“And you must be Hannah,” the short, pinked-haired girl says, turning towards me and pulling me into a hug. “It’s so nice to meet you!”
Before I can ask her her name, she’s screaming, “Vivi! Vivi, come here! Ian and his girlfriend are here!”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth as I try to follow the pink-haired woman who remains nameless. Instead of introducing herself she just throws her head back and laughs.
Laughing, Ian takes me out of my misery and says, “Hannah, this is Clara. And that,” he says, pointing to the dark-haired woman joining us from behind the aquarium, “is Vivi, Clara’s wife. These two have been tattooing me since forever. They’re the only ones I trust with a tattoo gun.”
“Always the sweet talker,” Vivi says as she comes around and gives Ian a kiss on the cheek and extends her hand towards me.
“Hi, Hannah, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too; both of you,” I say giving them both a small smile.
“I doubt that,” Clara says, “You were giving me some serious side eye when Ian gave me a hug,” she continues, with a twinkle in her eye, making me blush and look at the floor at being called out for being jealous.
“Clara!” Vivi says, “You’ll have to excuse my wife,” she continues as she wraps an arm around her. “She has no filter. Now, how about you follow us through the back so we can talk about what you want to get tattooed, while Clara here makes herself useful and gets us all some water.”
Draping his arm around my shoulder, Ian stops me from following them right away, and whispers close to my ear so only I can hear, “No need to be jealous, Pretty Girl, I’ve only got eyes for you.”
Before I can stop it, a shiver runs down my back, making him pull me a little tighter before we make our way to the back, where a black leather bed waits for me, making me stop in my tracks a little.
“You good?” Ian whispers against the top of my head.
“Yeah, I just never thought I would actually be getting a tattoo,” I say, hearing the excitement in my voice.
Chuckling, Ian asks, “Why not?”
Before I can think twice, I answer. “Because Lucas wouldn’t let me.”
Ian stiffens besides me. “He wouldn’t let you?” he asks, to clarify.
Shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot, I cross my arms and look down at my feet and let the word vomit come out. “He said tattoos were slutty—dirty—like putting a bumper sticker on a Mercedes. That no wife of his was gonna go around with a tattoo.”
Before Ian can respond Clara says, “Please tell me that this douche canoe is now long gone?”
“Yes. Ex-husband,” I say quietly.
“Well thank the damn lord! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to learn that someone is divorced.” Spinning on her stool to face Vivi she says “Don’t even think of apologizing for me, you know I’m right.” Making me giggle at their antics she spins back to look at me and taps the black bed. “See, she’s laughing,” Clara insists with a look over her shoulder to Vivi. Patting the bed again she says, “Now, come sit that pretty little butt of yours up here so I can show you what I drew up for you.”
Turning towards the small desk along the wall, she puts her hair in a bright purple hair clip and grabs a pair of light blue glasses to plop onto her nose.
“Alrighty,” she says excitedly as she opens up an iPad, “from what Ian sent me and told me, you want something very feminine with some flowers, maybe the outline of a body part, and some greenery, correct?”
“Yes, something fairly dainty.” I look up at Ian, hoping he can sense my nervousness and move closer to me. He quickly picks up on the concern in my voice and the furrow in my brow and comes to stand right beside me as Clara turns the iPad towards me. “This is what I have for you, although they can all be modified to flow with your body—how big you want it, and where you want it.” Taking the iPad from her hands I flip through the drawings she’s created. They’re gorgeous. I can see why Ian comes here. As I flip through, I land on a small bouquet of wildflowers with fallen petals and new blooms that haven’t opened yet. For some reason it speaks to me. It gives me hope that like these fallen petals I can let go of old wounds that are weighing me down. That I, too, can keep growing.
“I like that one,” Ian says from beside me.
“Me too!” Clara says with a squeak. “I has hoping you’d choose that one!'' Then she starts talking a mile a minute. “I was thinking you could get it inside your upper arm, or even your lower arm, or your ribs, or if you want to be adventurous, your sternum, but that’s gonna hurt. Like a bitch, I might add. Vivi did mine a few years ago and I think it hurt more than birthing our monster-sized daughter’s head. So yeah, maybe not sternum, not that you don’t look like one tough bitch because we all are, but like maybe not for your first tattoo.”
Unable to stop myself, I start laughing, followed by Ian which instantly makes me relax. Vivi says, “Clara, babe, you need to breathe. Let the woman talk.”
“Yes, you’re right. I should be asking you what you want,” she calmly says, sitting up straighter on her stool, going from overly excited to overly professional.
“I like the idea of my arm, or maybe between my shoulder blades-slash-neck area?” I say nervously, looking at Ian. “What do you think? You have more tattoos than I even know of.”
“Your back is a good idea. Doesn’t hurt as much as the inner arm, and you could get it done a bit bigger to get more of the details in there. Plus, maybe add a butterfly,” he says, pointing above the flowers.“Since you said you loved butterflies when I showed you the tattoo I have for Sadie.”
“Ooo that’s a good idea!” I agree. I’ve always loved butterflies. Summer’s mom used to always say we were sunshine and butterflies mixed with a little hurricane as kids. I hand the iPad back to Clara, asking her if she could add a small butterfly.
Taking this time to look around more, I catch Vivi looking at Ian’s hand on the back of my neck. I hadn’t even realized it was there until I caught her looking at us, making me blush. I’m usually hyperaware of people touching me, not wanting their touch for anything more than what is necessary, or for a fleeting moment. Not to mention, I’m not necessarily fully comfortable with someone touching me in the first place. But with Ian, it doesn’t make me pause. She meets my gaze, sees my blush, and sends me a warm smile and a wink.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I hear Ian say. “That’s gonna look sick as fuck.”
“You know it, hockey boy!” Clara says, turning towards me. “All right, here it is, do you like it?” she asks, almost nervously.
Taking the iPad from her I see that not only did she add a couple butterflies, flying around, but she added some details, too. She added some greenery and a few daisies, my favorite flower.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. “How did you know to add daisies? I didn’t even think of that.”
“Ian here pointed out that it was your favorite.” She looks down at the screen, while I turn towards Ian who has a small blush across his cheeks. “Now, how about you get that shirt off and I’ll print a few sizes to see what would look best,” Clara says, standing up.
“My shirt?” I ask nervously.
“Yeah silly, how do you expect me to tattoo your back with a shirt on?” she says as she leaves the room.
Shit, shit, shit. How did I not think about this? I haven’t done laundry in forever. I was waiting for Levi to leave next week before washing my bras so I could hang them around to dry. The only one I had left this morning was the bra I don’t wear, the one that is almost completely see through. Shit. Maybe I can switch back to my arm. Yeah, I’ll just tell her I changed my mind and I want the tattoo inside my upper arm.
“Pretty Girl, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Ian asks, taking Clara’s stool and rolling closer to me, looking me in the eyes. “No need to be nervous,” he says calmly, putting his hands on my knees.
Blushing, not only because I’m literally wearing the sexiest bra I own, a cute little black number in all lace, where in the right light, like these bright fluorescent lights, you can clearly see my nipples, but because he has his hands on my knees while he rubs his thumbs in circles on the inside of my thigh. It’s getting hot in here.
“We can leave if you want. You don’t have to get a tattoo.” Ian meets my eyes again.
“No, I want to get it. Just . . .” I start, but trail off, feeling my face burn up.
“Just, what?” he asks.
“I haven’t done laundry in forever. I was waiting for Levi to leave on Saturday before washing, my umm . . . my unmentionables, so the one I’m wearing right now isn’t very a . . . Well, it’s not very people friendly, let’s say . . .”
Looking up once I’m done with my rambling, my eyes lock with Ian’s. His eyes are stormy, exactly as they were the night I met him. As he moves his hands from my knees to the bed, caging me in and getting closer, he locks my knees between his thighs and says, “Pretty Girl, are you trying to tell me you’re wearing lingerie under this band tee?”
“Maybe,” I say, feeling bolder with the look he’s giving me. Letting out a breath he pushes away.
“I can go wait in the front if you want, if it makes you more comfortable.”
Before he can get too far, I grab his arm. “No, stay, maybe just turn around until I’m situated on the chair?” I ask shyly. I don’t know why I said that, as if I don’t want to get naked with him.
“Sure, Pretty Girl.” With an exhale and a smile he reigns in his lust better than I ever could.
“Alrighty, I have three sizes printed out,” Clara says rejoining us. “Why are you still wearing a shirt?”
“I, a . . . I was waiting for you,” I stutter.
“Well, I’m here now. Turn around and take it off so I can get started on this!” she says excitedly.
Turning around to give her my back, I don’t notice the mirror in front of me as I grip the bottom of my baggy t-shirt to remove it.
“Fuck,” I hear Ian shutter behind me, making eye contact with him in the mirror.
“You okay there, Ian?” Vivi asks with a smile in her voice. I forgot she was still in the room with us.
Not answering he just gives her a look that could kill, then turns back to meet my eyes in the mirror.
“Look at all that virgin skin! This is so exciting!” Clara almost screams, breaking the spell and making me turn around with my T-shirt held in front of me.
“Turn back around, let me get a look to see where it would look best. We said around here, right?” she asks, placing her fingers on my back between my upper shoulder blades. “Do you mind if I unhook your bra, it’ll be in the way, and I don’t want to get ink on it.”
“Yeah, around there, and yes you can,” I answer, feeling the nerves get back into my body.
“The mid-sized one I printed out will be perfect I think. Let me get it on you and see if you like the placement and size,” she says as she grabs some gloves.
“Bend your head down a little. Perfect,” she says as I feel her place the stencil and then peel it away. “Let me know what you think.” She hands me a mirror so I can see the reflection in the mirror behind me. Still clutching my t-shirt to my chest with one hand, I grab the mirror and turn to look.
Unable to stop myself, tears well up in my eyes. “It’s gorgeous,” I say, hoping the tears don’t start falling. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Awesome, let's get you situated on the chair, and we can get started then,” Clara answers with a big smile on her face. “I’m just gonna pop the back of this bed down and this side up. You can straddle the chair and we’ll get started.”
Making my way to sit as she instructed, I’m still clutching my t-shirt to the front of my body. Ian pulls a chair from against the wall so he’s seated right in front of me.
“Ready?” he asks as I hear Clara get her work station ready behind me.
“As I’ll ever be,” I answer shakily.
Grabbing my hands, he says, “Nothing to worry about. Clara has the magic touch.”
I hear the tattoo gun start up, yet as soon as his fingers wrap around mine everything else fades into the background and goose bumps erupt up my arms.
“Okay, I’m ready to go. Just keep taking deep breaths, we can take a break whenever you want, but it shouldn’t take more than forty-five minutes. I trust this guy can keep you distracted for that long, if not, find someone who can. If you know what I mean?” Clara says in the most serious tone I’ve heard coming from her yet. “I’m gonna do the first pass, ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I answer as I feel the sweat start on my forehead.
Clara does her first pass and it doesn’t hurt as much as I was expecting. I think the buzzing of the gun is more intimidating than anything.
“Not bad, eh?” Ian asks, still holding my hands. How I forgot he was touching me I’ll never know.
“Not yet, but I’m assuming it’s all downhill from here,” I say as my face squints in pain while Clara passes over a sensitive area.
“You got that right, but you get used to it.”
We keep chatting about nothing important as Clara concentrates on the task at hand without saying a word. Most of my concentration is spent on not embarrassing myself or getting lost in the goose bumps and swirls that won't stop in my lower stomach at Ian’s constant rubbing of my wrists and forearms. I’m sure he can feel the quickening of my pulse, and I hope he thinks it’s the tattoo that’s wreaking havoc on my heart.
Next thing I know, Clara says “All right, I’m about done here. I’m just gonna give it one last wipe, double check everything, and then you can get up to check it out in the mirror.”
Ian pats the outside of my thigh and says, “Well, safe to say you did great for your first tattoo. Definitely better than I did.”
“You can get up now,” Clara says as she hands me the handheld mirror. Forgetting all about my semi-see-through-untied situation, I get up and make my way to the mirror so I can get a closer look.
It’s gorgeous. She did such an amazing job! I can’t wait to show Summer next time we FaceTime. She didn’t think I would go through with it when I told her I was getting a tattoo when I last spoke to her a few days ago.
I look up from the mirror to ask Ian what he thinks, but he’s not looking at the tattoo. His eyes are laser focused on my chest as I catch a glimpse of his nervous swallow. “What do you think, Ian?” I ask him, making him clear his throat and blush knowing he just got caught staring at my tits.
My goal was to make him blush, but now I can feel myself turning red as my nipples tighten at the thought of him staring.
Clearing his throat, a second time, it fails, and in a raspy voice he says, “It’s gorgeous; the placement is perfect.”