Never go to a tattoo artist if bad luck is following you

𝟬𝟲 | 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳.

Once we leave the store, James heads towards a parking lot, and I follow him, unsure of which ice cream shop we're going to.

Each passing day is getting hotter, like a hellish inferno. Like after a couple of hours under the sun, you might catch fire, so people can gather around you with sticks and roast marshmallows.

Yes, because of course, people roast marshmallows on people who are on fire.

When we reach the parking lot, James confidently approaches a black car. He opens it and gets in, inviting me to do the same.

As soon as I get in, I reach for the radio, but he slaps my hand away and gives me a stern look.

"I don't mean to be rude, but don't touch my baby."

I look at him, bewildered. I try to reach for the radio again, but he slaps my hand once more.

I whip my head around to face James. "If I can't touch your radio, can you at least put on some music yourself?" I grumble.

He glances at me briefly, then returns his focus to the road. He takes his right hand off the steering wheel and reaches for the radio, turning it on. Ed Sheeran's "Shape of You" starts playing, and I begin to sing along, or rather, I start shouting random words that don't even remotely resemble the lyrics. And definitely not in tune.

I turn the knob on the door to my right, and the window slowly comes down. I let the breeze hit my face, and my hair starts to whip around like I have Medusa's snakes on my head.

But it would be pretty cool to have them, so I could turn anyone I've meticulously planned to kill into stone and use the statues as battering rams to open doors when I can't figure out whether to pull or push.

As I continue singing, I start moving around like a fish out of water.

Suddenly, I feel something on my mouth and notice it's James's hand, which he's placed there to silence me. "Brianna, I don't want to be a jerk again, but you suck at singing and dancing. And right now, your hair is so messed up it looks like you've been electrocuted." He removes his hand from my mouth and returns to driving as if he hadn't just insulted me.

I slowly turn my head to him, giving him a very unimpressed look. I'm sure my mouth is forming a perfect O shape. I think of how to get a little revenge and come up with an idea.

I smirk in his direction, and he looks slightly worried. Maybe because opening the door could cause something to happen to him.

"So James, you said you care about your car, right?" I ask, continuing to stare at him.

He shifts nervously in his seat but tries not to show it. "I care about my car like any other guy would."

"So you care about it like it's your girlfriend!" I chuckle.

"Well, in the absence of a girlfriend, I treat my beloved car as such."

I don't let myself get distracted and start untying the laces of my right shoe.

He glances at me quickly, and when he realizes what I'm doing, his eyes widen.

"What... what are you doing?" he asks, agitated.

"I'm getting comfortable," I try to sound innocent.

Before he can even respond, I continue.

"Would you mind if I untie my shoes," I loosen the laces of my left shoe as well, "take them off," I remove both shoes from my feet, "and rest my feet on the dashboard!" I exclaim.

He pales. "You wouldn't dare..."

He doesn't finish his sentence because I've already placed my feet on the dashboard, crossing my legs. And since he's so stunned by my actions, I reach for the radio and change the station until I find a song I like, and he doesn't stop me. He's probably still processing what I did to his precious car.

After a while, he regains his ability to speak, which he had momentarily lost. "You're the spawn of the devil!" he exclaims.

I chuckle. "Actually, when my mom is angry and on her period, she could easily be mistaken for the Devil."

He blinks in disbelief and mutters, "Fantastic."

After fifteen minutes, he parks his beloved car next to a new ice cream shop.

We get out, and just because I hadn't embarrassed myself in a public place yet today, one of the straps on my backpack gets caught in the door, causing me to bump into it.

James looks at me and bursts out laughing. "So Paul was right when he said you're walking bad luck."

I laugh without much enthusiasm. "Very funny. Now, would you mind opening the car door? Thanks."

He approaches and helps me out.

We approach the ice cream shop, and as I'm about to open the door, he stops my hand. "Given past events, maybe it's better if I open the door. I wouldn't want to see something else or someone else fall because of you."

I look at him offended, reiterating that the painting didn't fall because of me, and I hit his arm with a fist. He winces in pain. "Damn, for a short girl, you have quite a bit of strength!" Meanwhile, he rubs the spot where I hit him with his other hand.

"I have a dad I compete with every time to get out of the house first when Mom asks if one of us can do her a favor. I had to build up muscle to push him aside and get out the door first. And every time my cousin visits, we always end up fighting over who gets the last piece of cake, since Mom bakes sweets every time someone comes to our house."

"Your family is strange!" he exclaims, without any trace of malice.

"Yeah. But we're very close, and it's something I love. On that front, I consider myself lucky."

James smiles at me. "My family is close too."

And with that, we finally enter the ice cream shop, and of course, he was the one who opened the door.