Chapter 27 Sloane
SLOANE
“Ithink I want a tattoo,” I say as we lounge on the couch. My head is in his lap as he pretends like he’s paying attention to the news. Let’s be honest, no one actually watches the news.
His fingers play with my hair as I scroll through Loop on my phone.
“Oh yeah, what of?” he asks, twirling one of the brown locks around his finger.
“Little mountains or something cute.”
“Little mountains, huh?” he asks. I nod and sit up, grabbing his right arm, pushing up the sleeve so I can see the ones that he has.
“Did this one hurt?” I ask, poking the one on his upper shoulder.
“I don’t remember,” he says, scrunching his eyebrows softly as if in thought.
“How come?” I pout, tracing the dark ink with my pointer finger.
“Because it’s older than you are.”
“Oh, that’s hot,” I say, biting my bottom lip and climbing into his lap, my legs on either side of his hips as I straddle him.
“You think so, huh?”
I nod. “What about this one?” I ask, pointing to the bird that sits between his shoulder and neck. One wing barely sticking out of the collar of his tee.
He shrugs. “I got most of them before joining the military, except this one and this one,” He says. I pout again.
“Well, that’s no help. How am I supposed to know if I can handle the pain if you can’t even rate them on a scale?”
I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head innocently at him. He raises an unamused eyebrow at me in response.
“You can’t really go off of my pain tolerance, baby,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “What you and I are able to handle are different. So even if I did remember, it wouldn’t be an accurate scale to go off of.”
“Stop being smart, just let me pout.”
“Ok, sweetheart,” He says, leaning forward and kissing my nose.
“Wait, when did you get this one?” I ask, remembering that he said that he’s gotten almost all of them while being eighteen or nineteen years old.
“After Mason was born.”
“And what about this one?”
“After my service to the military was done.”
“Hmm, I see, still not very helpful.”
“Sorry, pretty girl.”
“You’re forgiven, but only because you’re hot.”
“Objectifying me, huh?”He laughs and rolls his eyes at me. I uncross my arms and pull at the hem of his shirt.
“Yup,” I tease.
He lifts his arms, letting me pull it off. I squint my eyes, staring at the tattoos on his torso and down his right arm. He doesn’t have a lot, but he does have a couple.
“Have you ever thought about getting anymore?” I ask, giving the bird on the top of his shoulder a little kiss.
“I don’t really know. Most of them have some kind of meaning, so I’d have to have something in my life that makes getting one worth it.”
I stare at the dark ink, not a drop of color anywhere to be found. Some of them are fading because they are over twenty years old, while others still look nearly perfect.
“I want one.”
“Ok, let’s go get one then.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, my eyes popping out of my head. “Just like that? Don’t you think we should think about them first?”
“Call it impulsive. You’re young, Sloane, you are allowed to make decisions that you’ll regret in the future.”
His words catch me off guard.
When I think about it, there’s not really anything in my life that I’ve done that I regret. I was a nobody in high school, and I’ve pretty much just been isolated to my dorm, the gym, and classes since going to college.
“You think so?”
“Yes, baby, that’s what makes being young and dumb so much fun,” He says, pulling out his phone and typing a number in before pressing the call button.
“Beckett, what are you doing?”
“Hey, can you get me and a plus one in tonight?”
I shake my head at him. He gives my waist a little pinch, and he ignores me and keeps talking to whoever is on the other side of the call.
“Great, we’ll be there in a few minutes, bye.”
He hangs up the phone, and I stare at him in horror.
“Who was that?” I hiss.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” he says, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the neck.
“Beckett, you can’t be serious?”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s be crazy, just once. Let me do this with you, please.”
He grabs his t-shirt and puts it back on, kissing my cheek and standing up with me in his arms.
“I’m scared,” I whisper as we say goodbye to Mocha and he takes me out to his truck, my body still wrapped around him.
“It’s ok to be scared, baby. That’s what life is all about.”
“Are you seriously trying to YOLO me right now?” I ask with a laugh, burying my face in his neck.
“Maybe,” he says, opening the passenger door for me and setting me inside the truck on the seat.
“Old man.”
He nips at my neck as I tease him. “I’ll have you know that this old man moves exceptionally well.”
“Oh, trust me. I’m well aware.”
He winks at me as he shuts the door and goes around to the driver’s side of the truck, getting in.
I fidget the whole way out of town. It gets to the point that he has to grab my thigh with his hands and hold my legs down.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I know, and it’s ok. That’s the point, remember?” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “I’ll be there the whole time.”
I nod my head and open my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. Maybe it’s because I’m not an impulsive person. I never have been.
I’m used to staying inside my bubble, which is why it’s been so hard for me to get out and make myself leave the house. My routine may be boring, but it’s my routine; it’s safe.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks, reaching for my hand as we pull up to a little tattoo studio on the edge of Denver.
“No,” I admit. He gives my hand a little squeeze, brings it up to his mouth, and kisses it softly.
“Come on, let’s do this, baby,” he encourages, getting out of the truck and coming around to my side, opening the door for me, and helping me out of the vehicle.
He kisses the side of my head, and for a minute, I feel like maybe we can be normal. Like this thing between us can be so much more than whatever it is now.
I let him hold my hand for as long as he is comfortable. Because for me, this doesn’t bother me. I’ve been ready to shout my feelings for him from the moment he kissed me for the first time.
He lets go of my hand as he opens the door to the little studio, and I walk in first. His hand finds its place on my lower back. It’s late, and it looks like they’re closed. The lights are dim against the already black interior.
“Beckett, my man,” a big dude says, coming out from one of the rooms.
“Charlie,” Beckett says, a small smile on his face as he embraces whoever this person is.
“How have you been, brother?”
“Alive.”
They laugh for a few seconds and catch up while I stand here trying not to let my anxiety eat me alive.
“And who’s this little lady?” Charlie asks, giving me a once over, but not in a creepy way.
“This is Sloane.”
“Briar’s kid?” He asks, and I nod.“Oh really? Heard your brother’s going to the NBA.”
“Yeah, Athen City drafted him,” I say with a small smile.
“That’s great, and what about your sister?”
“She’s just finishing law school and going to get her Master’s degree.”
“Who knew that Briar Monroe would’ve made kids that would be something?”
Charlie and Beckett laugh as if they are sharing some kind of inside joke, making me feel even more left out. Charlie doesn’t ask about me; he just starts talking to Beckett like I don’t exist. Somehow, I blend into a room with only three people.
“Alright, what can I do for you?” Charlie asks, turning his attention back to me.
“I want to get maybe one or two little tattoos.”
“Ok, whatcha thinking?”
I pull out my phone and go to Flykr, showing him what I have in mind.
I show him the little mountain outline that I want on my ribs.
“Ok, and you said that you might want a second one. What would that one be?”
Beckett looks at me, too, since I’d only mentioned the one when we were talking about it earlier.
“Just the words ‘Fake it till you make it.’ It’s the title of one of my favorite songs.” This song helped me get through some of the hardest times of my life, and I want a reminder of it.
Charlie and Beckett both look at me for a minute before Charlie nods and goes behind the front desk, grabbing some papers and an iPad.
“Alright, I’ll get something drawn up real quick if you’ll start filling out this paperwork, and then we can get started.”
Beckett also fills out a form. I give him a questioning look, but he doesn’t say anything, just winks at me.
Charlie takes me back first. He shows me what he’s drawn up. The first is just a simple mountain outline. The words having been typed in a cute, elegant script.
Once I approve of the design, we move on to placement and sizing. Once everything looks ok, we get started on the process.
We put the words on the outside of my right wrist, and I hardly even feel it as he does it. It only takes a few minutes for him to finish up the first tattoo.
The ribs on the other hand, while not as horrible as I was expecting, still hurt, and it takes a lot for me not to wiggle around.
Beckett offers me a small smile and rests his hand on my ankle to help comfort me while Charlie works.
“Thank you, they look great,” I say with a smile once we finish. I love them. I look at them in the mirror, before letting my shirt fall to cover the mountains, rolling my wrist, and looking at the words.
I smile to myself as I think about the song.
NOX still holds a special place in my heart, even though I don’t listen to his music as much anymore.
A song of his will still play in one of my playlists, occasionally.
I think a part of me will always be in love with his story, his lyrics, and the man who hides behind the mask.
“Alright, my turn,” Beckett says. I stare at him for a few seconds, curious about what he’s going to get.
I take some pictures of myself and make a little collage to post to my social media.
“Do you have a Flykr so I can tag you?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s DC.Charlie.tatts.” I nod, looking him up and giving him a follow before posting.
While waiting for Beckett to get done, I scroll through my Flykr and upload a video that I filmed earlier in the week.
It only takes Charlie a few minutes to do whatever it is that Beckett is getting. Charlie wraps the tattoos in some kind of sticky cling wrap that is supposed to help protect them so they heal better.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask after he’s done with Beckett’s. Who glares at me at my attempt to pay.
“It’s on the house.”
“Ok, well, I’ll just tip you then,” I say with a wink. Typing in his Venmo, which I see sitting on the desk, I send over a couple of hundred dollars.
“I can’t accept this,” Charlie says, looking at the notification on his phone.
“It’s easier to just let her do it,” Beckett mutters, looking over at me with an affectionate look in his eyes.
“Well, thank you,” he says.
“Don’t mention it,” I say as I turn my phone off and put it in my pocket.
“You’re too kind sometimes,” Beckett says as we get into the truck, after visiting with Charlie for a little bit longer.
“Well, I’m sure that he opened his shop for us. He deserves to be paid for his time. He didn’t have to do this for us, but he did. Plus, I really like them, so it’s the least I can do.”
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. He lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of it. When he sets our hands down, I roll our hands over to look at what he got.
“Cherries?” I whisper, looking at the small black and grey set on his wrist. My face scrunches in confusion as I look at the new ink.
“One summer, I met a girl who made getting another tattoo worth it.”
My heart stops at his words, my cheeks instantly heat up.
“I’m not that special, Beck.”
“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you, Sloane?”
“I’m just a girl who came in and wrecked everything.”
“You didn’t wreck anything, baby,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze as we turn down a dirt road.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Just trust me.”
I huff. I don’t like how he says that. I like knowing what’s going on.
We don’t drive down the road for very long before he pulls over into a small clearing.
He rolls the windows down and turns up the music. Putting the truck into park, he gets out, rounds the truck, and opens the door for me.
“You didn’t turn off the car,” I point out as he tugs me closer to him.
“I know.”
He spins me around and pulls me into his arms, his hands on my waist.
“What are you doing?”
“Dance with me, baby,” he whispers, burying his face into my neck and placing soft kissing onto the skin.
I wrap my arms around his neck as some country song plays in the background. We move softly on the dirt, dancing in the headlights of the truck.
I rest my head against his chest. “I really like you,” I whisper.
“I really like you, too,” he whispers into my hair.
He gently tilts my face up so that I’m forced to look up at him.
He doesn’t say anything, he just presses his lips to mine.
His hand leaves my waist and gently trails up my back until it tangles into my hair, and he pulls my head back.
I look up into his eyes, getting lost in them.
I feel like they hold so many secrets, ones that I hope to one day unlock and hold close to my chest.
He stares at me for a few moments before he presses his lips back to mine. He kisses me until we’re both breathless and have to pull away for air.
“Please don’t leave me,” I whisper. He picks me up effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“Never, baby, I’ll never leave,” he promises, burying his face into my neck and holding me to him.
We slow dance in the headlights for I don’t know how long. All I know is that by the time we get home, I can’t stop smiling. That smile doesn’t leave my face when he takes me up to bed and makes me feel good all night long.