I nod, heart full. “Absolutely.”
He smirks, that playful spark lighting up his eyes. “Well, that’s it then. We’ll be branded with each other for the rest of our lives. Can’t think of anything more official than that.”
I laugh, shaking my head as my cheeks flush. “Is this your version of a proposal?”
He leans in just enough to make my heart race. “Nah. When I propose, you’ll know. But this? This is pretty close.”
When the artist returns with the stencils, I look between her and Gray, heart thudding.
“You go first,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice is a little too high-pitched to pull it off.
Gray grins, eyes gleaming. “Ohhh, I see how it is. Let me be the guinea pig, huh?”
I smirk, crossing my arms. “Exactly.”
He slides into the chair without hesitation, shooting me a wink as the artist preps his arm.
“This one’s gonna hurt the most, right?” he teases the artist with a straight face.
She snorts. “Sure, tough guy. It’s tiny script. You’ll survive.”
But the second the needle starts buzzing and touches his skin, Gray lets out an exaggerated hiss.
“Ahhh—nope! Yep, this is it. Worst one I’ve ever gotten. Easily.”
My eyes go wide. “Gray!”
He scrunches his face, groaning dramatically, peeking at me from the corner of his eye. “Bury me with my guitar.”
“Stop!” I laugh, covering my face as my cheeks burn. “You’re so mean!”
The artist pauses, shaking her head with a smile. “Don’t listen to him. He’s fine.”
Gray relaxes, grinning like he just won a prize. “Kidding, babe. Barely feel a thing. But your face? Totally worth it.”
I stick my tongue out at him, heart racing, torn between exasperation and total adoration.
And as I watch him all relaxed and confident, letting this silly, spontaneous forever mark be part of us—I know I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.
When the artist finishes with Gray, he hops out of the chair, flexing his arm like he just conquered something heroic. “Didn’t even hurt,” he says with a wink, all swagger.
But as I slide into the chair, my pulse picks up now that it’s my turn.
Gray moves close, crouching down so we’re eye level, his hand finding mine.
“Hey you,” he says softly, his gaze locking onto mine. “Eyes on me, okay? Just me.”
I nod, my breath shallow.
“You’ve got this, Ivy. Just breathe.” His thumb traces slow, steady circles over my skin. “In…and out. That’s it.”
The artist positions my wrist, and I feel the cool swipe of antiseptic. My heart pounds, but I can’t look away from Gray.
His eyes hold me there—full of nothing but love.
“You’re brave,” he murmurs, so quiet only I can hear. “You’re doing amazing.”
The needle hums to life. I flinch as it touches my skin, but Gray tightens his grip gently, his other hand brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.
