etc. // hs

twenty-three*

-like two seconds before Norah gets her tattoo-

"Harry," I whimpered, pulling him to me by his arm. He chuckled and rubbed my hair soothingly, but my heart was still racing and my head was spinning as I watched Zayn prepare his little station.

"How badly is this going to hurt?" I asked quietly.

Zayn snorted. "Don't be a pūssy."

"Hey," Harry cut in with a grin. "Go easy on her."

His near-black eyes softened a little as he let out a deep breath, his lips pulling into a smirk. "Your wrist is one of the most painful places to get one."

"Wow, thanks," I scowled, looking down at my hands. "Maybe you should be a therapist."

"I'm a fūcking tattoo artist, not your mother," he laughed. "It's going to hurt, and if you're not ready, then fine; don't get one."

"Dude, just shut the fúck up," Harry scowled.

He turned back to me and grinned. "You'll be fine, Norah. I survived, remember?"

He held out his wrist and I smiled as I saw his brand new tattoo- a tiny, unfilled moon that was still a little red from when he got it two days ago. He didn't know why he got it and he didn't know if he liked it yet, but I did. I thought it was beautiful.

"Hold my hand," he murmured, pressing my cheek to his shirt. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on his smell, and not the whirring sound of whatever Zayn was holding.

"Squeeze my hand, princess," Harry repeated with a chuckle. "It's going to hurt! Hold my damn hand."

"I don't need to-" I began with a snort. But then I felt the searing pain in my wrist and my fingers immediately tightened in his. "Goddammit, it hurts."

"I know," he hushed, his lips pressing lightly to my scalp. "Just hold my hand, okay?"

"It hurts," I whined. "Oh my god, it hurts."

"Done," Zayn laughed, rubbing his hands together with a proud grin. "It's actually quite perfect."

"You can let go of me anytime," Harry whispered. "You did so great, sunshine."

"You two are so fūcking ridiculous," Zayn chortled as I paid and he gave me a little pamphlet about tattoo care. "Just date already and put us all out of our misery."

Harry raised his eyebrows and pulled me onto his lap, sinking us into one of the chairs by the register as Zayn typed something into his laptop.

"Maybe we are dating," Harry retorted. "How do you know?"

He gave me a sloppy kiss on my cheek and I smiled faintly, my wrist still throbbing as I giggled.

"You're a sneaky motherfúcker, you know that?" Zayn shook his head. He leaned back in his chair, revealing his inked stomach and toned muscles as he yawned.

I let my eyes wander over him, over all of him, and then over him again. He was gorgeous, right down to his tight jeans and boots.