“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t competing.” I gave her a deadpan look that she deadpanned right back. She may be sweet, but she did not like to fail. She didn’t like to lose, not even when there wasn’t a competition. I narrowed my eyes. “Come on now, don’t give me that look. Can you?”
“Yes, I can doodle a little. Nothing like you guys do here,” she said, her shoulders dropping as if I’d judge her.
I wouldn’t. In fact, I couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across my face. She questioned me with an eyebrow raising along her face.
“Wanna draw me a tattoo?” I asked.
“You want me to draw you a tattoo?” she asked, her head snapping back, her eyes going wide “Right now?”
“That’s what I said.”
Long seconds ticked by as she paused, weighing the decision like it was a proposal. “What would I draw?”
And that was my girl. If there was a challenge, she was taking it.
Getting out of my seat I picked up both my sketchpad and my tablet and walked them over to her, holding them up as if she was going to choose her weapon. When she chose the pad, I turned my back to go find her a pencil and some erasers too.
“Draw something that makes you think of me. If I like it, I might use it,” I said.
That was a tiny lie. Unless she drew the equivalent of kindergarten scribbles, chances were it was going on my body. She hummed as she took the materials, then she turned her attention to the blank page, thinking.
It took a second before she was peeking an eye up at me. “Are you going to stand there the whole time?”
I waggled my eyebrows. “What, do I make you nervous?”
“Nervous isn’t the word I’d use,” she said, tone dry.
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the word.
The eye narrowed. “Annoyed. It’s annoying when you hover like that, Harper.”
“Alright, alright.” Lifting my hands in surrender I picked up my tablet and returned to my chair. “Just let me know if you need help. Inspiration. A muse?—”
“Harper.”
“Shutting up, Boss,” I said on a chuckle, resigned to give her the silence she so graciously asked for.
Only, a minute later she huffed, picking up the eraser and scrubbing it across the page. Those eyes raised to me like I’d been the one to do something wrong. “Well, don’t betotallysilent. Now I feel pressure.”
I snorted. “So you want me to leave you alone while making conversation with you?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t even bother to tell her it was rhetorical, just rolled my eyes as I sat back. “Alright. Why don’t you… tell me why you’re so against getting a tattoo.”
She wrinkled her nose as her hand moved across the paper in a long arch. “Am I against it?”
“Yes,” I snorted. “You physically recoil every time me or the guys bring it up. I know it’s not for everybody and some people will just never like them…but you don’t strike me as one of those people. So what’s up? What’s holding you back?”
She thought about it for a second. I could tell her thinking face was on because it was distinctly shaped like her pout. It always made me want to kiss her. “I don’t have anything against the ink, really. It’s the concept that scares me.”
“The concept?”
“Yeah. If I get something that’s going on my body forever, I would want it to represent me fully. And I’m not self-aware enough to choose something like that yet.”
I got it. Although, I wish she didn’t still feel this way. That she could see every incredible thing she was for herself. I could see her clearly enough. “That makes sense.”
She glanced up. “What about yours?”
