Rose Tattoo | tattoo artist/single dad!calum

chapter 3

Stevie stared at her laptop, the blinking cursor and blank word document seeming to mock her as she waited for the words swirling around her brain to magically appear on the screen. She knew what she wanted to write - the interview she'd done the day before seemed to lend itself to a certain kind of article and was neatly outlined in her mind - but it was as if her brain couldn't connect with her fingers. She felt as if she were incapable of moving, that if she tried too hard to type, her head would explode, and it was beginning to make her heart pound and her head ache. She'd been stuck for nearly an hour, her eyes sore as she stared at the bright screen, and finally huffed a frustrated breath as she reached out and closed her laptop.

She wondered, idly, as she glanced around the small coffee shop if it was the noise distracting her or maybe the overcast sky affect her mood but, if she were being honest with herself, she would be forced to acknowledge that it was neither of those things. It was a myriad of feelings outside of her control, a series of chemical imbalances in her brain and life events that blindsided her, and she hated feeling like she was barely treading water when she was once a proficient swimmer.

It had been a rough few months adjusting to the seemingly never-ending changes that rushed into her life like tornadoes, spinning out of control and leaving her sanity in shambles, and she was struggling to cope with it all. She had always had a safety net, a group of friends and family close by and ready to catch her should she ever fall, so being on her own and on the verge of spiraling in a city over a thousand miles from home only added to the feeling of helplessness she'd been saddled with since Angela's diagnosis.

It was hard, watching her best friend go from the brightest light in a room to being snuffed out in a matter of months, and she knew that she wasn't handling it well. But that was no surprise. Stevie had never handled death well. Dealing with mortality, acknowledging that death was inevitable and a force of nature that could not be ignored, was hard for her. Her worst fear had always been losing the ones she loved and having that fear become reality had shaken her to the core.

She wanted, desperately, to feel happy that she was sitting in a cafe in Manhattan, drinking tea and writing for a magazine she'd read all her life. She wanted to enjoy the cold, the real winter that she never got back home in Louisiana, and play in the snow. She wanted to celebrate her success, a job and a life that she only ever dreamed she'd have, and be grateful that she was getting such an experience.

But it all felt hollow. Empty. Wrong.

Any victory celebrated felt like a slap in the face to the best friend she'd lost, to the family she'd left behind, and to the life she'd given up in order to achieve it. She felt guilty for surviving, for thriving, while everyone around her seemed to be crumbling. She knew that it was just something akin to survivor's guilt and that it would leave her eventually but she could feel herself slipping back into a headspace she hadn't been since she was a teenager and, for the first time in years, didn't feel like fighting it. She wanted to wallow in her misery, to grieve and fall apart in peace, but that seemed counterproductive.

Instead of taking time to process her emotions, instead of talking about them or working through them, Stevie shoved them to the back of her mind. She let them fester, locked away in some dark recess that would likely break her some day, as she had always done and put on a happy face as a coworker - the one who'd recommended Calum to her - took the seat across from her.

"How's the writing coming?" Noah asked as he placed his own coffee onto the table along with his laptop and notebook. "They've got you doing a feature, yeah?"

"Mm," Stevie confirmed with a hum as she reached for her tea. "The interview went well. The band was good, they gave me a lot of good quotes to work with and a good idea for how I want the article to work. I just need to get it from my brain onto the page," she sighed as she tapped her nails against the hardwood of the table. "My brain is stuck today."

Noah made a noise of sympathy as he tapped at the keys on his laptop for a moment before he peered over the screen to glance at her. "You should take the rest of the day," he suggested as he glanced at the time. "The deadline for that is, what, Monday?" When Stevie nodded, Noah followed suit and took a sip of his coffee before he continued. "You've done more this week than pretty much anyone else. Give your brain a break. You've got your second appointment with Cal today, right?"

At the mention of her impending appointment with Calum, Stevie felt herself perk slightly. She was still nervous about her tattoo, the idea of spending another few hours with a needle repeatedly being stabbed into her skin would likely never truly appeal to her, but she was eager to finish the tattoo and see the final piece. The base that Calum had done had healed and though there were still details and color to be added, she was thrilled with how it looked so far. It felt as if it belonged on her skin, like it had always been a part of her body, and she was glad that she'd taken a step out of her comfort zone and gotten it done. Completing it would also mean a check on the bucket list and the ability to move on to the next task.

Also, somewhere in the back of her mind, Stevie was looking forward to seeing Calum again. He was sweet, a gentle soul and easy to talk to, and she was looking forward to chatting with him again. He had made the appointment fly by and she hoped that the same would be true this time.

"Yeah," she nodded, finally answering Noah's question as she glanced over at him. "Thanks for the recommendation. He was really good. He still has some details to add and the color but the tattoo's beautiful so far. It's exactly what I wanted."

"Good," Noah nodded with a smile as he gestured to her arm, "can I see? I've got an appointment with him next week. I want to add to my leg." When Stevie shrugged her jacket off her shoulder and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt enough for Noah to see the bold black ink against her skin, his eyes widened and he nodded in appreciation. "That's bigger than I thought you'd go for a first tattoo but, you're right. It's beautiful. He did a great job."

Stevie hummed her agreement as she reached for her phone to text her boss and ask for the rest of the afternoon off. "He really did. I'm excited to get it finished. He was just really good all around. I was freaking out before, like, almost having a panic attack outside the shop but he was really good about it. And he was really easy to talk to. It was a good experience."

"He's a really nice guy," Noah agreed as he tapped at his keyboard. "I've been trying to get an interview with him for ages, though. Ashton agreed but only on the condition we feature them both and Cal is great at dodging my requests. Think you could put in a good word for me today?" Noah requested as he glanced over at Stevie with a grin.

"Yeah, I'll see if I can remember to hound the poor guy about getting back to you while he's jamming a needle into my skin," Stevie nodded as she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. It was confirmation from her boss that she had the rest of the afternoon free and, with a sigh of relief, she grabbed her laptop and shoved it into her bag. "I'm going to go walk my dog before I go in. I'll see you on Monday, Noah."

"See you, kid," he called, taking great pride in the nickname though he was only two years older than her. "Try to get me that interview!"

Without glancing over her shoulder, Stevie flashed her middle finger in Noah's direction - something she knew he wouldn't take offense to - and left the coffee shop to head back to her apartment.