My Favorite Camren One-Shots (Part 2)

Inked

Camila had never been the type of person to want a tattoo before. It wasn’t because she was against them, but if she were being honest, she was slightly terrified by the idea. Not the permanence of the whole thing — that part seemed almost romantic to her. The idea that you love something so much that you want it to be a part of you forever. No, it wasn’t the idea that the tattoo was permanent.

She was almost ashamed to admit she was a little scared of the pain. She had never been great at getting shots as a child, and she always flinched whenever someone even pinched her skin. Her best friend Dinah had even told her that she would chicken out at the last minute. (It probably wasn’t the best idea to invite her to come along to this, either.)

But when she thought about it, it always came back to that first thought — she was in love with the idea of having something on her skin forever. Something that was truly meaningful to her. And she had already made up a short list of the tattoos she might like to get in the future.

She had already gotten the small elephant tattoo designed by a family friend whom she trusted to do it justice. She had decided to get it done on her forearm, just before the inside of her elbow. She loved the idea of arm tattoos — something that you could look down at every single day and be reminded of its significance. It was a comforting idea, and that’s why she wanted to do it. Even if the thought of the pain frightened her to death.

Since her tattoo had already been designed, meeting her tattoo artist had been a lot more straightforward than Camila thought. The meeting was mostly just to make sure that the artist was capable of creating the tattoo in the way that Camila had wanted it. It was quite a simple design with not too much detail, so her artist had found it no trouble at all. And her artist had told Camila that it wouldn’t take too long either, much to her relief.

Camila had been too nervous to really retain any of the information her artist had told her, though. All she knew was that her name was Lauren, and that her eyes made Camila more nervous than the actual tattoo itself. She remembered the quick “Hi, how are you?” in a husky tone before she began to outline the procedures to a sweaty-palmed Camila. She knew she probably should have paid more attention. That was always her biggest problem in school, after all.

“We can schedule an appointment on Wednesday afternoon next week, if that works for you?” The older woman had asked, almost playfully. She had an expectant look in her eyes, but there was also a certain glint. Like she was trying to be professional but struggling to keep a straight face. Despite not paying a lot of attention, she could tell that this Lauren woman hadn’t worked at the tattoo parlour for very long.

That didn’t really make a difference though — Camila had browsed through the portfolios of every artist who worked there, and nobody matched up to Lauren’s talent. Lauren seemed to have this way of instilling Camila with the confidence of her abilities, because the nineteen-year-old instantly felt comfortable in her presence. Although she hadn’t spent a lot of time with her, Camila trusted Lauren.

“Wednesday’s perfect,” Camila had replied, smiling gently up at the slightly-taller woman. Camila had also realised that she felt somewhat shy in Lauren’s presence. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the whole You’re-about-to-inflict-pain-on-me-and-I’m-nervous thing, or the Hi-you’re-really-attractive-stop-looking-at-me-like-that thing.

(She had a feeling it was the latter. Usually, the thought of pain didn’t give her butterflies. Dark hair, bright eyes, red lips, how could she not be flustered?)

“I’ll see you then,” Lauren had replied in an equally as soft tone, seemingly picking up on the younger woman’s nerves. “And don’t forget to eat, okay? You’re tiny, if you don’t eat, you’ll pass right out in the chair.”