by S. J. Sylvis
It was funny because I wasn’t your typical tattoo artist. I wasn’t covered in tats from head to toe—not that anything was wrong with that. I just wasn’t a big fan of having a needle rub my skin raw to display art. I liked doing the art, not receiving it.
Not to give you the wrong picture, though. I did have some tattoos. They were just in spots that weren’t explicitly visible… unless I was naked.
Axe, though… he had plenty of tattoos to go around. In fact, he was the first person I’d ever actually tattooed. It was a barbwire around his bicep.
Kidding.
It was a massive serpent on the back of his shoulder blades. I sketched it up one day when I was just fucking around, and he dug it, so I told him I’d do it for him right then. I knew the guys at the shop would let me fuck around a little (as this was before they’d hired me on). At first, he’d said, “Fuck no,” because he knew I had never actually tattooed flesh before, but after a few minutes of me bribing him with bountiful amounts of alcohol, he agreed.
I’d done such a damn good job that he’d refused the alcohol in the end, and that was when Jake offered me a job.
“Well, that’s the last fucking time I ever bet you.”
I chuckled as I watched a pouty Kip, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, stomp his way back over to his desk.
It was a slow night at the shop—a typical weekday. We were mostly busy on the weekends, especially at night when people got drunk, causing their inhibitions to lower dramatically. I couldn’t tell you how many people had stumbled into the tattoo shop, asking for a certain tattoo (usually something extremely common and not at all creative – which was fine, more dough for us) and they had been lit. I always made my clients sign a waiver, indicating that they hadn’t consumed alcohol. Everyone signs it—even the drunk ones, lying straight to our faces.
I’d only ever had to turn down a few women in the past because, although they said they weren’t drunk or that they hadn’t consumed any alcohol, they most definitely had, and tattooing someone who had copious amounts of alcohol sloshing through their veins became very messy.
My favorite type of person to tattoo was one who came prepared. They came in, picked out what they wanted or gave me an idea of what they wanted, I’d draw it up, and they’d look at it with excitement glimmering in their eyes.
Just like a few weeks ago, when I’d tattooed my younger brother for the first time ever. He came to me with a shit-eating grin on his face, asking for a favor. I lifted my eyebrow at him, expecting something stupid to come out of his mouth, but his idea was… perfect.
He wanted to surprise his girlfriend, Ivy, for her upcoming birthday. The two had had a hell of a ride. They were best friends as kids, but then she had to move away, leaving Dawson in the dust. He was torn up over it for a long-ass time, but then she moved back to Oak Hill and the two reconciled. They were so obsessed with each other that it made me want to vomit, but I loved Ivy so much that it wasn’t that difficult to hold down.
But anyway, Dawson wanted to get Ivy’s birthday tattooed on his arm. He said she’d probably flip out since it was permanent, but that was exactly why he wanted it. He wanted to show her that she was permanent in his life.
I smirked at him and agreed. I even did it for free. It was on the inside of his bicep, and although I usually thought couples tattoos were a bad, bad idea, his wasn’t. I knew he and Ivy were together for the long haul, and several days after he showed her, little Miss Ivy walked in with a fire in her eye that I’d never seen before.
I thought she was going to slap us all for tattooing her birthday on Dawson’s arm, but instead, she plopped herself down in the back room where I usually tattooed my clients and pulled off her jacket. She held out her arm and said, “Give me the same but with Dawson’s birthday.”
I smiled widely and chuckled. Those two... they were it.
If I could find an Ivy one day, I’d be golden. That was, if I were looking for an Ivy.
I wasn’t looking for love.
I was through with that shit after Carrie. At least for now.
My head snapped up as the bell jingled on the door. All I could see was a chestnut curtain of hair that fell over a petite woman’s face. Her head was pointed downward, as if she were having a staring contest with her own two feet.
I moved my eyes over to Kip, but he was no longer in his chair. He must have finally gone back to the storage room to stock like I’d asked him to do three hours ago. I hurriedly clicked off my computer, shutting down the inventory list I’d been viewing, and stood up, straightening out my jeans.
The girl’s head was still down low, and I could feel the nerves spiking off her body. I glanced at the clock hanging above her head, wondering if this was another one of those drunken I-want-a-tattoo moments, but then she lifted her head, and I swear to God, it stole the air out of my lungs.
She was… gorgeous.
Wide, sapphire eyes locked onto me and blinked several times. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head: should I go or should I stay? Fight or flight? I wanted to beg her to stay. I had no idea what she wanted, but I’d give it to her. No doubt.
The girl lifted her shaky hand and pushed back a bundle of honey-colored hair behind her ear. A diamond stud glittered underneath the light, and I couldn’t help but take in her full appearance. I wasn’t typically prone to checking out a client from head to toe the second they walked into the shop, but I felt compelled to. Like I couldn’t control my gaze—or my horrific… naughty… naughty thoughts.
The girl was wearing a denim jacket that was pulled over a tight white shirt that showed just how slim, yet curvy, her body really was. The shirt was tucked into a tight skirt with buttons lining the front, all the way down to the tiny gap between her legs. And that was when I had to break my eyes away before I continued getting swept away by her. Her legs… tanned and toned, smooth-looking… I wondered, for a slight second, how they would feel wrapped around my back as I pumped into her.
I coughed, bringing my eyes up to hers. “Can I help you?”
She had to be in the wrong place. She didn’t belong in a tattoo shop, especially not with all those nerves flickering off her body.
The girl smiled—a tiny one—but it was enough to punch me in the chest. “I would like to get my belly button pierced.” Her voice was soft and timid. For as beautiful as she was, it was perplexing that she appeared shy.
I heard Axe snicker from his seat, and although the stripper thought he was laughing at her, I knew better. He was laughing at the timid girl in front of me asking if she could get her belly button pierced.
I hated doing piercings. That was something Kip did. I refused simply because I could, considering I was the boss.
“Okay, then. Come on back.”
I could sense Axe’s eyes trailing me as I turned around and walked past my desk. I didn’t look at him because I knew he would more than likely make a big deal out of me giving this poor, terrified chick a belly button piercing.
Light footsteps followed me through the shop, and as soon as I moved into the back room, the girl breezed through the threshold. She smelled damn good—like the light scent of flowers or something. Nothing too overpowering. Just enough to make your head turn.
“Let me go get the paperwork. I’ll show you the piercings we can use.” I barely managed to grunt the sentence out. I clenched my teeth, annoyed with how flustered I was.
Get a goddamn grip, bro. She’s not the first hot piece of ass you’ve seen.
As soon as I’d walked out of the room, Axe was standing close by with his colorful, full-sleeved arms crossed over his chest. One of his dark eyebrows was quipped upward, and his smirk was growing larger with each passing second.
“Need something?” I questioned, pulling open the cabinet and grabbing the waiver form.
“You hate piercings.”
I shrugged. “You’re occupied and Kip is stocking.”
He chuckled. “She could have waited a few.”<
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I didn’t meet his eye. “Bad business. Which is exactly what you’re presenting right now by leaving your new girlfriend over there with half a tattoo on her back.”
He bellowed out a laugh, and that was when I raised my head and glared at him. He shook out his unruly curls. I turned on my heel and walked back to the damsel in distress, feeling agitated.
“Okay, I just need you to fill—” My eyes almost fell out of my fucking skull. I closed them tightly and flipped my body around. I hated that I could feel my dick jerk in my jeans, too. “Jesus Christ! Why is your shirt off?!”
I was not expecting to walk back into the room to a half-naked girl (not that it wasn’t pleasing). The damsel was sitting there, her eyes trained on the ceiling, her perky breasts spilling out of a light pink, lacey-as-fuck bra. She looked out-of-this-world sexy with her slimming skirt pulled down just below her belly button and her bare legs poking out from below.
“Oh!” she cried. “I thought I was supposed to take my shirt off for a belly piercing. That’s what Google told me!”
I bit my tongue to keep myself from laughing. I mumbled, “Google lied. Please put your shirt back on.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to laugh so fucking hard because it was totally fucking obvious that this girl had no idea what the hell she was doing. It made me wonder why she was even here in the first place. Usually, when females came in to get a piercing, their asshole boyfriend was with them—or at least a friend. But not this little thing, no. She was alone, nervous as hell, and out of place.
I could hear her shuffling around and pulling her shirt back on. She was huffing and puffing as if she were angry about something.
I slowly turned around and noted the way her light, subtle freckles were displayed on her blazing red cheeks. “What’s your name?” I asked, walking a little farther into the room.
She looked away for a second and then snapped her blue eyes back to me. “Fallon.”
I grinned. Fallon. I liked that.
“Okay, Fallon,” I repeated. I crossed my arms over my chest, still holding on to the waiver. “Are you sure you want to do this? You seem…”
Fallon stopped me mid-sentence by mimicking my stance. She crossed her arms over her chest, and I couldn’t help but imagine she was still standing there without a shirt. “Don’t tell me how I seem. I need to do this, and I need to do it now.”
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head. A wicked smile formed on my lips at her sudden irritation. Who is this girl? And why am I so interested in her?
“Alright. Here… I need you to look this over and sign.”
I held out the pen and form for her, and she snatched it away, crumbling it with her shaky hand. I studied her as she scanned the words and then scribbled her name quickly.
She handed it back to me and sat down again, lying back in the chair. She still looked nervous as hell.
“Do you want any particular color? I have to use this type.” I showed her the type of ring I had to use, which was just a silver hoop with a pink ball connecting the two ends. “You can change it out once it’s healed, though.”
“I don’t care what color. Just do it.”
I chuckled as she clenched her eyes shut, her long eyelashes poking out from between her eyelids.
“Okay, give me a second there, killer,” I joked. Fallon didn’t even smirk. Her hands were clenched together in her lap, and I knew I needed to calm her down before I so much as breathed on her, because she was going to lose her shit the second I touched her skin.
I hurriedly grabbed the shit I needed, sat down in my rolling chair, and wheeled myself over to her. Fallon’s breath was labored, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Okay, Fallon. I’m gonna lift your shirt up a little, okay?”
A small smile formed on her glossy lips. “You don’t want me to take it off?”
I laughed after telling her no, but fuck yeah, I wanted her to take her shirt off.
Fallon’s stomach was creamy, smooth, and toned. I briefly wondered what kind of workout she did to form those tiny ab muscles, but I quickly shut down my thoughts when I started imagining her doing yoga in those super tight pants that women liked to wear.
Grabbing the cotton ball doused in antiseptic cleaner, I quietly said, “I’m just going to clean the area. Okay?”
Fallon nodded her head quickly, her brown locks swaying in front of her shoulders. Her stomach clenched as I wiped the cotton around her stomach, making her toned muscles even more evident.
As I started to get the clamp ready, along with the needle and belly ring, I asked, “So, Fallon, where are you from?”
Her tense body seemed to relax when I spoke.
“Who says I’m not from here?” I flicked my eyes up to hers to see that she’d opened hers. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
“I do,” I answered. “Oak Hill is a small town. I’d know if you lived here.”
She quipped an eyebrow. “You know all the ladies around here, then?”
I smirked. “Something like that.”
Fallon smiled, but then her eyes traveled over to my tray, and her head jerked to the left. She shut her eyes again, and just like that, her body went rigid.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, still giving her time to back out.
Fallon took a deep breath. “Yes…please. I need to do this.”
My eyes squinted as I grabbed the clamp. I tried rubbing my gloved hands together for a second, hoping to warm them up so I didn’t freeze her half to death.
“I’m just clamping the skin. No needle yet.”
She nodded and took another deep breath as I started to clamp her skin.
“Why do you need to do this? And why here in Oak Hill?” I questioned while grabbing the needle. I was going to wait for the right moment before piercing her unblemished skin. I was waiting for the moment where she wasn’t super fucking anxious.
Fallon didn’t say anything for a while, but I could tell that she was calming down, getting lost in her thoughts.
I lifted the needle up, seconds from plunging it into her flesh, when she opened her mouth.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you ever… just… feel like you’re treading in choppy water that just never lets up?” She paused, and I was about to answer her, but I stopped when I saw her mouth open again. “Like you’re swimming in the middle of the ocean during a wicked storm, trying to make your way back to dry land, but you just have no idea why? You can’t figure out why you’re swimming toward the dry land when, really, all you want is for the ocean to swallow you up whole.” My hand lowered as I stared at Fallon’s calm and unmoving face. I continued to study her while the words fell flawlessly off her lips. “That… that probably doesn’t make any sense. It’s just… sometimes I just want to be someone else. I want a taste of a different life. I’m tired of being the Fallon that I was destined to be. Does that make sense?”
That was the moment I decided to pierce her skin. Fallon let out a loud yelp, but it was over before she even opened her eyes.
I fastened the ball and unclamped her skin. I brought my eyes up to hers. They were wide and her mouth was open. “It makes sense, Fallon. I know exactly what you mean.”
And I did. I knew what it was like to feel like you were living a life you didn’t want. Like you were trying to be someone that you weren’t. I’d been through exactly what she was describing to me. I got it.
Fallon’s breathing started to pick up speed again as she stared at me. My head tilted to the side when I took in her appearance. Her flushed cheeks were no longer flushed – she was as white as a fucking ghost.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured.
“Uh… I feel…”
“Axe!” I shouted, scooting my chair over to the cracked door. “We’ve got a fainter.”
Once I brought my attention back to Fallon, I groaned while standing up and rushing over to her. “Whoa, sit down!”
Fallon started to swing her le
gs over the chair and tried to stand up. Her face was even whiter and her eyes were blinking rapidly. “Fallon, you need to sit,” I urged, reaching for her arms.
And boom. She was out like a fuckin’ light, and she landed right in my arms.
Chapter Three
Fallon
A gravelly voice sounded from above. “Fallon.” I liked the voice. I didn’t know why, but I did. I kept my eyes closed, unable to pull them open. My eyelids felt heavy. Like they were glued together. But somehow, I actually felt calm. Wherever I was, I didn’t want to leave. And the voice that kept saying my name… I never wanted to stop hearing it.
It was soothing. It made me feel safe. It was soft but masculine. Something about it made my heart flutter.
“Fallon, I need you to open your eyes.”
Another deep voice sounded. “I can see her eyes fluttering. Can she hear us?”
“Fallon,” the original voice repeated. “Come on, pretty. Open those eyes.”
Pretty? Did the sexy voice just call me pretty?
My body jerked a little, and I instantly sprang my eyes open. First, I saw the white, tiled ceiling, but then I moved my eyes downward a little and was met with deep blue, oceanic eyes. I felt my face splitting in two from the giant smile appearing. “Hi,” I said, voice all breathy.
My piercing guy grinned. “Welcome back to the party, Fallon.”
“The best party around,” another male voice boomed.
I turned my head to the left and looked into a new pair of eyes. These ones were hazel with a swirl of green inside. I could feel my eyebrows slanting as the hazel-eyed man grinned. “I’m Axe.”
Suddenly, I felt completely nervous. What the hell happened? And why the hell was I lying in this super attractive man’s arms? My body felt stiff as I tried pulling myself up.