Chapter 35
TAYLOR
The sun was low in the sky but the festival was still in full swing when he came back. I was cleaning up after inking a cute little purple-and-blue octopus onto the ankle of a middle-aged mother, when I heard him clear his throat.
‘Have you decided?’ I asked, without looking at him. I was worried that if I did, it might betray how I was feeling. I hadn’t been able to shake his words and the way he’d said them. It had felt so intimate.
‘I have.’
‘And?’
‘I’d like a giant squid, like huge, multiple stories high kind of giant, right across my chest. And I want its tentacles to be wrapped around one of those old-fashioned sailing ships, like a pirate one, pulling it down into the depths of the ocean.
And if you could add a few sailors jumping overboard to their inevitable death, that’d be great. The more detail the better.’
I slowly swiveled on the chair and stared at him, incredulous.
‘Are you serious? I’m not doing that.’
He grinned. ‘Good. Because I was just kidding.’
‘You had me going there for a minute,’ I scolded him.
‘You’re so easy to tease.’
He pulled off his cap, revealing his sandy blond, mussed-up hair, and took a seat.
He smelled of delicious food and musky male, and I swallowed hard to try and hide my sudden nervousness.
It was silly to feel nervous, when I remembered how intimate we had already been with each other.
But if anything, it seemed to have made it worse.
I knew what was at stake now. What I’d be leaving behind when I left.
A few days ago, I couldn’t wait to get back to my life in the city.
Now, the thought of never seeing Jack again made me feel all hollow inside.
‘Can you do it with my sleeve rolled up?’ he asked. ‘Or do you want me to take my shirt off?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Any excuse to flex your muscles, right?’
He laughed. ‘Sleeve it is.’
I turned my tattoo machine on, and starting gathering together what I needed. ‘You haven’t told me what you want yet.’
He stood briefly, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small shell. Sitting back down, he held it out in the palm of his hand. ‘This.’
I studied it. It was a top shell, a common snail, like you’d find up and down the coast. This was one of the prettier ones though, with iridescent blues and greens along with black.
‘Cute,’ I said, reaching out and picking it up, admiring the way the colors caught the light when I turned it over in my hand. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In the tidal pool,’ he said. ‘The night we met.’
I stared at him.
‘Pathetic, I know,’ he mumbled sheepishly. ‘I’m not sure why I kept it. I just did.’
‘It’s not pathetic. It’s sweet.’
‘Can you draw it for me?’
I nodded, not trusting my words. He sat silently and watched me as I sketched the shell, focusing on all the little details.
The imperfections that made it unique. When I finished it and wordlessly passed it to him, he studied it for so long without saying anything that I was worried he didn’t like it.
‘It’s perfect,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’
Warmth flooded through me at his words. ‘Thanks.’
‘Can you tattoo this?’
‘I can tattoo anything. Even giant squids.’
He smiled. ‘Just this will do. For now, anyway. I’ve heard that tattoos are highly addictive and once you have one, you usually end up wanting more.’
‘There are far worse addictions out there than tattoos.’
I was conscious of his eyes on me while I tattooed the little shell picture onto his arm. He winced when the needle first touched his skin.
‘Ouch.’
‘Seriously? I barely touched you.’
‘I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all,’ he said defensively. ‘I know what to expect now.’
‘Just breathe through it,’ I told him. ‘And try not to move.’
‘Don’t move. Breathe. Got it.’
There was no sound for a while apart from the hum of the machine, and the music off in the distance.
‘Do you always look so serious when you do this?’ he asked.
‘Shush, I’m concentrating.’
‘Sorry.’
I tried not to smile.
‘You’re very cute when you’re concentrating,’ he whispered.
‘Do you want me to make a mistake?’
‘No. Sorry. I’ll be good.’
I snorted. ‘I doubt that.’
Truth was, I didn’t need silence to tattoo.
When I was first starting out, I once worked a booth at a heavy metal concert.
I was used to noise. Used to crowds, and being watched.
Those things didn’t bother me. What did bother me was his proximity.
Touching his skin, I kept having flashbacks to the other night, and then I’d remember the things we’d done, and I’d start feeling a bit hot and bothered.
‘You’re blushing,’ he said. ‘Is it because you’re so close to my muscle?’
‘Oh my God, Jack.’
‘I’m kidding. About my muscle, not the fact that you’re blushing. You’re definitely doing that.’
‘We’re almost done here; do you think you could be serious for a few minutes?’
‘Seriously? That didn’t take long.’
I wiped the small amount of ink and blood away and checked the design, adding little bits here and there, little touches. ‘It’s not very big.’
‘Words every man doesn’t want to hear.’
I laughed. ‘What is with you tonight?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Teasing, joking around. You just seem, lighter, somehow.’
‘Hannah’s decided to move back to L.A.,’ he told me. ‘Permanently.’
‘Oh.’ I wiped, checked, continued again. ‘How do you feel about that?’
‘Honestly? I feel… relieved. I think she’s making the right decision.’
‘What does this mean for you?’
‘Are you asking me whether I’m moving back to L.A. too?’
I nodded, wiped, checked, continued. Held my breath.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not. I have no desire to go back there.’
I exhaled again. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just not me. Never was. I didn’t realize that though, until I moved here. This place makes me feel, I don’t know. More optimistic about the state of the world, I guess.’
‘Careful, you’re venturing into Hallmark territory again.’
‘Is that so bad?’
‘I suppose not.’ I sat up, wiped for the final time. ‘There. All done.’
He sat up and flexed his arm in the mirror. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘I’m glad you’re happy with it.’ I pulled off my gloves.
‘I am. I love it.’ He made eye contact with my reflection. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ I dipped my finger into a tub of Aquaphor, then reached out and gently touched his skin where he now wore my design permanently with him.
I rubbed it gently. ‘You’ll need to wash it with mild soap at least twice daily until it heals, and apply this afterwards.
I’ll give you a small pot, so you can do it at home.
I’m going to cover it, and you’ll need to keep it covered for a few days. ’
‘I think I can manage that.’
‘I’ll be watching.’
‘Is that a promise?’ His eyes bored into mine intensely, his tone still jovial but with an undercurrent of seriousness.
I started to pull my hand away but he reached out and caught it in his own, his fingers curling around my wrist. His touch was light, but his skin may as well have been electric.
I wondered if I would always feel that way when he touched me.
He leaned towards me, his eyes asking permission.
I nodded imperceptibly, and emboldened, he closed the rest of the distance between us, his lips touching mine.
This kiss was different to our kisses at the cabin. We had been swept up in our passion then, a physical attraction, a desperate need for each other. This was soft and gentle, lingering.