The Bright Side

Chapter 7 - Part 3

SKY

Tristan is bopping up and down next to me. His feet are firmly on the ground, but he's so excited, that his whole body almost bursts from energy.

"You sure you're old enough to get a tattoo?" I smirk at him and put the stencil pen down.

"Uh, no. Not really." He grins.

It has taken him some time, but he seems to have recovered from getting kissed by me and he's all his natural, goofy self again. And I'm trying so hard to make him comfortable around me. Being casual, acting careless, trying to appear unbothered by the fact that I've ripped my chest open for him to take a look at my insides, pretending that the kiss hasn't happened.

"So, I think the stencil is ready." I carefully remove the tape from the upper sheet and hold it up.

"You go take off your shirt and lie down." I point towards the separation. "I'll be back in a sec."

The buzzing of the machine at the far end of the room grows louder as I approach it and I clear my throat before I step past the separation.

"Umm, Jeanie?"

She continues to work on the tramp stamp on some mid-forty's back; I can see the woman dig her fingers into the backrest, her knuckles are white.

"Yeah?"

"I'm done with the stencil. Can you come have a look and help me get started?"

"Awesome idea," the woman sighs from relief.

Jeanie's not even done with the outline. I'm wondering if the woman is going to make it through.

"Sure."

She follows me to my workplace behind the separation and sits down on a stool on the opposite side of the table and rests her head in her hands.

"Alright. Get started."

"Ok." I'm glad my hands aren't shaking; I feel like they should, because I'm so nervous that I feel like puking. I walk over to the sink and wash my hands fiercely, disinfect them, put on gloves and grab the skin disinfectant and a razor on my way back.

"No way!" Tristan's eyes are wide. "You're not going to kill Humphrey."

"Who's Humphrey?"

"My chest hair." He places a hand on his right chest and shoots me an impish grin.

"You're so much work, mate."

It takes me five seconds before I can make myself wipe the disinfectant over his skin. I try not to think about how it would feel if there weren't a gauze pad and my gloves separating my hands from his skin; how it would feel if I ran my bare fingers across his collar bone and sense his pecs under my palm. The three minutes it takes for the disinfectant to do its magic seem like hours and I glue my eyes to the design I've attached to the side table. I apply the stencil lotion and shoot a glance at Jeanie.

"Go on", she gestures me with a rather bored expression on her face.

I place the stencil on his chest and slowly peel it off.

"Alright?" I ask Tristan and he strains his neck to take a proper look.

"Perfect."

"Alright. Which needles are you going to use? What colours?" Jeanie plays around with the ring on her index finger.

I hold the tray I've prepared out towards her and she compares the ink to Tristan's skin.

"Alright. That'll work." She stretches on her stool and yawns. "Get going then. I'll hide out here for a while and hope that the tramp stamp bolts."

I rotate my shoulders to relax a bit and pull the surgical mask up to my nose.

"You ready, pumpkin?"

"Yeah, just a sec." He pulls his headphones out of his trouser pocket and plugs them into his ears. "That dentist sound? No way. Gives me chills." Tristan leans his head to the other side and closes his eyes.

Him lying there in front of me, bare chested and with his eyes closed, it's so tempting to goo at him. I don't allow myself to take it all in; after all I'm not here for my own pleasure. But I can't really see past the way his lashes rest on his cheekbones and make his face look peaceful. I take up the tattoo machine, acutely aware that the ball of my hand is touching his skin, but as soon as the buzzing sound of the machine fills the room, I'm in a zone. His skin is just another form of canvas and I get started with the outline. I run the needles through his skin and wipe off the excess ink and blood with the other every now and then and Tristan softly taps his right hand on his belly with the rhythm of his music.

I'm glad I'm wearing the mask; not only because it hides my face – I really don't want to rely on it too much right now – but it also weakens his scent. I can still smell him, guy-y and of spending a lot of time outside but underlined with something crisp and clean. Lemons maybe. I'm quite proud that I'm not flinging myself at him.

When the outline is done, I get started on the shading; Jeanie pokes her head around the screen every now and then to check and Tristan bites his lip from time to time or plays around on his mobile. But other than that, there are only my hands on his body, the buzzing from the machine and the steady rise and fall of Tristan's chest for the next few hours.

"Jeanie!" I shout and take my foot off the foot pedal. "I think I'm done!"

I clean his chest with warm water.

"Good job, Sky!" she says and I'm so touched by the compliment, so high from Tristan's proximity, so proud of my work - it makes me giddy. I just hope that Tristan will like it, too.

"Can I have a look?"

"No. I'll wash it properly first and put some antiseptic on it." I say as I walk over to the sink and let some warm water and soap into a small bowl. Then I gesture him to get up.

"Come on. Mirror's over there." I push him around the separation and place myself behind him, so I can see his face when he sees it properly for the first time.

"Blimey! It's perfect, Sky. Just what I wanted." He steps closer to the mirror and then back again. "Awesome." Tristan is beaming and it warms my heart. "I'd hug you but... no." His hand hovers over his right chest. "Will a coupon do?"

If there's such a thing as coupons for hugs from Tristan, I want to know where I can get me a stack. I'll break in and steal them if I have to. I want a lifetime supply.

"Sure," I smirk.

"So, photo, plastic wrap, money, closing time!" Jeanie is already clutching her handbag and taps her foot impatiently, as if the sight of Tristan half naked wasn't worth doing overtime.

I get the camera and through the lens I finally don't have to be reserved, I don't have to pretend that I'm not looking; I can let my eyes wander and try to commemorate every line and curve of his body; I can ogle at his perfectly smooth skin; I can allow myself to linger. It's only for a few heartbeats, but they are heavy and unsteady. Now, I'm forever on his skin.

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