Tattooed Love

January 16, 2014

    It was his smile. Or maybe his eyes, no I know what it was. It was his perfectly clean untouched canvas. Not one slither of ink covered it.

   I sometimes wonder, was I the right choice for him?

   He was the one to propose, and he did say he loved me and always will, so why am I so nervous? I don't want his family to think of me as a bad influence, one to "ruin" his chances into getting into Harvard.

   As the thought slowly left my mind, we finally arrived. It was the time he has been talking about for centuries it feels like, he was going to get his first tattoo.

   "Are you ready", I asked for the first time today surprisingly. "Of course, when am I not" he said not showing a shade of fear, but rather giving me a sympathetic look.

   "What's wrong," he asked me, somehow he always knew that something was wrong.

   "Nothing." He just chuckled and got out if the car.

   As soon as I thought he was going to leave me in the car, he opened the car door and literally carried me out. We caught a few bystanders staring, but I didn't mind.

   "What was that all about," I exclaimed laughing, Harry always had a way to cheer me up. Whether it was cooking my favorite tomato soup, or carrying me out of his car, he always made me feel like a princess. His princess.

   "Well it looked like you were not gonna get out so, I carried you out." he exclaimed proudly as his dimples showed.

    "Well let's get going and get it over with," I stated. "What, you don't want me to get it?."

   Aside from being able to cheer me up, he always challenged me.

    "Yes, of course," I lied.

    "Well let's get to it then."

   As soon as we walked in, Harry went straight for the front desk. I just sat down on the smelly chairs known as "the waiting room" and picked up a magazine.

I heard the heavily tattooed man asking him questions like, his age, how big the size of the tattoo he wants, and if he has any health problems. Of course Harry lied and said he was 25 with no health problems, even though he was 20 and an ashtmatic, and the tattoo size I much not rather hear about.

   As I went back to reading the magazine, all I saw was tattooed human beings. "How can someone do this to their body!" I whispered much to loudly. Oh ya Harry. My nerves were back to get the best of me and reading this magazine isn't making it better. "It won't be anything too big" I thought to myself.

   Once again, my thoughts faded away as Harry called me. I walked fast, too fast and once I got there Harry had been laying on the chair with the needle penetrated inside of his once untouched canvas.

(stay tuned for the next chapter and what will be Harry's FIRST tattoo. Remember to please vote and comment, this is my first book and I need feedback! Also I update everyday!)