My heart thudded as I walked into the shop.
"Tattoos don't hurt!" People claim, when they don't even have one, when they possibly cried the moment the needle kissed the skin.
My pastel shirt was a stark contrast to the other customers; dark clothing, grunge aesthetic. Some heavy metal shirts.
I definitely didnt belong.
But I wasn't here for me.
I ran a hand through my short hair as I made my appointment, before I sat in an empty chair, closest to the exit. Incase I had to chicken out.
As I waited, I skimmed over the signs plastered around. Walk in service. No refunds.
Welp, I wonder why that last one existed.
My name was called, most of the previous customers gone, replaced with new ones. Standing up quickly, I made my way to where the receptionist gestured half heartedly.
There sat the man, tattoo gun in hand. He looked gruff, but polished in a way that contrasted with how you would imagine someone working in a place like this; his skin a rich, warm dark chocolate tone that glowed under the bright studio lights, eyes darker than a midnight sky that were framed by thick lashes.
My first thought was how he looked absolutely gorgeous.
He smiled at me, seeing my nervous demeanour.
"Good morning, my man," he said, gesturing over, absent mindedly pushing a stray crimson tipped lock of hair behind his ear as it escaped his bun. "The name is Marcus." He extended a hand to shake.
I shook his hand, trying to ignore the feelings bubbling and the thoughts whirring in my head. "Niko." I said, returning the smile, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks.
"Pleasure to meet you. So, what style you going for today? Any designs in mind?" Marcus asked, nodding to the chair across from him.
I cleared my throat, pulling out my phone and clicking on an image, and handed it over to Marcus. "I wanted a sprig of English lavender,"- my voice was a little bit tighter than I intended. Crap. "Just a single stem, of course, but i want it to sort of...drape. Like its its naturally wrapping around my wrist bone, rather than just sitting flat."
He inspected the photo, before looking to my wrist. Setting my phone down, he gently took my wrist, turning it over to inspect how the skin moved. "Well, the wrist mover a lot, so instead of a straight line, I'd have to curve the stencil so it looks natural, like what you want, or it'd look distorted."
I could barely think straight as he spoke. Get it together man. Focus! I thought, my shoulders tense as my anxiety started talking.
Marcus looked up, seeing the tension in my shoulders, and chuckled. "First time?"
I nodded, offering a weak smile.
"Don't worry about it. We'll do fine lines, and it'll be quick and painless."
As he worked, I couldnt take my eyes off him. He was just so beautiful. Time seemed to slow down as I watched him work, the concentration on Marcus's face making my heart drum so hard against my chest, I was sure he could hear it.
And just when I thought this moment could never end, it did.
"All done. You done well for a first timer," Marcus said, sitting up and stretching his broad frame. He reached for his desk, pulling out a roll of cling film, wrapping it around the tattoo. "Keep this on for a couple hours. Or the ink bleeds," he glanced up, smiling. "And we wouldn't want that."
I nodded, my mouth feeling dry. I had to say something now. Or I wouldn't be able to again.
"Yea. We... we wouldn't." I said, the courage quickly building in my chest, before I blurted out: "Are you free after your shift?"
He paused. He looked up at me, and for a moment, I thought I'd ruined everything. What if he wasn't into me? Have I spoilt my chances? Does he like m-
"Yea, I'm free." He said. "At 3."
I stared blankly at him, before finding my words. "Y-yea?"
He nods. "Yea. Meet you at 3?"
I nodded quickly. "Absolutely! It's a date! Not like an actual date, of course, but a date-"
His laughter cut me off, the heat in my cheeks getting hotter. "A date it is,"
