Endless: REWRITTEN

10. Opal

Natalie

I've noticed an increase of affection Robin has decided to give me, and I'd be completely lying if I said I wasn't into it.

I let him sleep over that night, seeing as it was way too late for him to walk home. In the morning, he had the day off from work, but I still had work, so I offered to drop him off at home on my way to the office. He must've kissed me a thousand times exactly before finally getting out of the car. He leaves me laughing, my face red from the affection and his from my lipstick. As soon as I got to work, I found a text on my phone that had me grinning the whole damn day.

Just in case it wasn't clear, this is a thing now. An item. You are NOT single anymore, miss.

Of course, I responded with 'whatever you say, lover.'

The days following that have been amazing. Robin being that vulnerable with me that night gave me permission to let myself fall deep with him, and it's clear that he feels the same way. Unfortunately, the way our work schedules line up, we don't get to see each other during the weekdays. I work 9 A.M to 5 P.M and he works 5 P.M to 10:30 P.M and if you think I'm going to entertain him after a full day of dealing with Mordecai, you're surely mistaken. But the weekends become ours, filled with dates in random places and idle, but meaningful conversation.

Although, upon spending more time with him, I find an interesting tidbit of information that didn't pique my interest. But it should've.

"So, random question," I bring up over dinner in my apartment. Robin offered to cook for me, and discovering that he wanted to dabble in the culinary industry made me interested in his skills. The verdict: I'm pretty sure this chicken tortellini can cure cancer and achieve world peace if given the chance.

"Random answer," he replies, taking a sip from his water.

"Any tattoos or piercings?"

"Yeah, I have a tramp stamp of my mom's name."

"Shut up," I laugh. "I'm serious."

"Okay, okay," he gives up. "I don't. But I think it would be interesting to have it one day."

"A tramp stamp?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, if that's what you're into."

I snort, standing up and bringing our dishes to the sink. He doesn't let me get the opportunity to do them before he's taking my hand and dragging me into the living room.

"Let's do it," he suggests very vaguely.

"Do what?"

"Get a tattoo."

I bark out a laugh. "What? Are you serious?" He just grins at me, making him look youthful and vibrant. He's only thirty, eight years my junior, which was something I had to get used to (and I did surprisingly quick). "Robin."

"What?"

"We are not getting tattoos."

Yet, here we are, at a tattoo parlor at eight P.M on a weekend. I'd be lying if I said that Robin even had to do a lot of convincing. The truth is that I'd go on a spontaneous road trip with no money and half a tank of gas as long as it involved him. He made promises that everything is going to work out because it always does, and they way he says it really makes me believe him.

Because this was a spontaneous decision and my first tattoo ever, I decided to go small with a rose on my left shoulder that's literally the size of a half-dollar coin. Yes, it was... uncomfortable, like how I expected it to be, but I've experienced pain way worse than this.