Dean only flashes me a quick smile before tightly grasping my hand and pulling me towards his truck.
"Come on. We're going to be late."
His tone seems harsh, but I quickly shake it off.
He doesn't even bother to open the passenger door for me as he jumps into the drivers seat.
I roll down the dusty window as we back out of my driveway on this lovely morning in Maryland. Taking in a deep breath of the refreshing summer air, I admire the sun as it's vibrant rays peak through the trees. Bright white clouds are smeared across the crystal blue sky and birds chirp in song. The grass is greener than ever and various flowers are scattered everywhere I seem to look. I wish my life could be this simply beautiful and calm.
I let my heavy eyelids close as I sink back into leather seat and let out a long, tired sigh.
The rusty old truck comes to a screeching stop and my eyes fly open wide.
"We're here babe. Let's go." Dean's rough voice cuts through my peaceful daze and I realize where we are.
The tattoo parlor.
Dean's getting another tattoo... a monkey or something stupid.
Dean has a bunch of tattoos, a bunch meaningless, stupid scribbles of ink on his skin.
Don't get me wrong, I usually really like tattoos, when they have a good purpose or if they just look cool. But Dean's are all creepy and ugly and pointless. He loves getting them though and it's his body, so if he wants to permanently mark his skin, then I might as well be a supportive girlfriend and come along to watch.
I've been with Dean a couple times to see him get tattoos, but I've never been here before.
We walk up the brick walkway to a little place called Inked.
Inside, we're kindly asked to sit in the waiting area until Dean's tattoo artist is ready.
We're the only ones here, so hopefully this won't take long because this place is eerie. I want to make this quick.
We sit on a little black bench in the dimly lighted waiting room and neither of us say a word. I scoot closer to him, resting my head on his toned shoulder, hoping to get some comfort in this awful place, but before he can react, his name is called.
We both stand up and a young woman with vibrant purple hair and ink covered skin leads us down the hall to another small, dark room and informs us that the tattoo artist will be with us any moment now.
Dean takes a seat on what looks like an operating tabel that you would find in a hosptial room, while I sit on a very uncomfortable plastic chair.
"What tattoo are you getting again? I forget."
"I'm getting a big gorilla right here." He points to his biscep.
I just nod in response as I look away from his emotionless face. Why does it feel like we're straining to make conversation? It feels almost... awkward. It's probably due to the couple weeks of seperation, I think to myself, but I'm not entirely convinced.
"So, what are we gonna do after this? Let's do something fun." I ask, giving him my best smile, hoping to spark a little emotion in this miserable room.
"uh- well I actually have a lot of things I need to take care of today. Maybe I can take you to dinner tomorrow night or something." Dean says in a dull, mumbled voice, he didn't even make eye contact with me...
"Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?" The familiar feeling of panic rises in my stomach and I anxiously wait for his response.
His expression is unreadable as he opens his mouth to say something, but before he has the chance to answer, both our heads turn towards the door as it swings open.
