Page 824 of One More Kiss
Colorful Scars
Jenika
I stareddown at the long white scar stretching along three inches of my inner wrist. The memories surging through my mind made me squeeze my eyes together tightly and try to focus on the song playing through my headphones.
The familiar lyrics of “Lighthouse” by Lord of the Lost soothed me as I yanked down my sleeve to cover the hideous scar. I mouthed along the words, taking everything in as I sat in my car, looking up at the entrance and sign for the tattoo parlor.
My heart raced in my chest, and I tapped my foot up and down as I stared at the time on my watch. I needed to go inside. My appointment was in ten minutes and if I wasn’t at least that early, I was late.
I finished the song and tapped on my AirPods to pause it before another could play. I kept the earbuds in my ears, letting them provide just a bit more comfort as I gathered my purse and tucked my phone in my pocket.
The sweltering heat of Arizona hit me like a smack to the face as I walked the short distance to the door. Sweat immediately beaded on my brow and I hoped like hell I wouldn’t be a nasty sweaty mess when I met Anders.
I’d been talking with the brilliant tattoo artist, Anders Karlsson, for almost two months. Going over every element of the piece I wanted done, he listened intently and planned out each piece carefully. I didn’t have a clue what he looked like. He was elusive and difficult to get an appointment with, but he’d been touched by my story and the design I wanted, so here I was.
“Hi. Can I help you?” Standing behind the front desk was a short curvy woman covered in tattoos with bright pink hair. Small gages adorned her ears, as well as several other piercings on her ears, in her nose, eyebrows, and lower lip.
“Hi,” I squeaked, clutching to the strap of my Loki backpack like it was a life preserver. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi, I have an appointment with Anders at three.”
Eyes widening the girl looked over at her computer and clicked on the mouse a few times. “Are you Jenika?”
I nodded before I realized she wasn’t looking at me. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Awesome!” She squealed, her voice making me wince at the shrillness. “Have a seat and I’ll grab you a water. Do you want coffee, tea, or soda?”
This cheerful friendly girl was the total antithesis of me and it was already making a migraine form behind my eyes. “Dr. Pepper if you have it.”
“Always have that, it’s Anders’ favorite.” She skipped–yes, actually skipped–off to the back and returned a moment later with two bottles, one of water and the other Dr. Pepper.
“Here you go. Anders has been working in the back all day so I’m sure he’s lost track of time.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, like it was a common occurrence to talk so much to a complete stranger. Although, since she was the person that welcomed new clients, I supposed she needed to be.
I sank down into the plush microfiber sofa and looked around at the artwork on the walls. A mixture of styles, it featured everything from American traditional, to realism, to abstracts and mandalas.
I was pulling out my earbuds to secure them in their case, when I saw it.
The design that led me to reaching out to Anders. A design featuring Thor’s helmet, with Mjolinir, the backdrop of Asgaard and the bifrost in a prism of colors. I could hardly believe it had been a tattoo.
The tattoo sprawled the length of the man’s arm, and he proudly displayed it as he stood next to another man. Both were beyond stunning. Their eyes were the same shade of bright blue, practically glowing even in a photo.They appeared to be brothers, or even twins.
Each had sandy blond hair, but the one with the tattoo wore his short on the sides and a bit longer on top so it flopped in his eyes. The other had his pulled back into a top knot. I wondered how long it was. I was always a sucker for long hair. I trailed my gaze over their impressive muscles. They could make even a plus size girl like me feel small.
Stupid Jenika. Don’t even think like that. You know nothing about these guys.
“Jenika?” A smooth, masculine voice called out my name and I about jumped at the fright.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I jumped to my feet, thankful I didn’t fall and faceplant in front of the Thor-like god in front of me. My mouth dropped open as I took in his chiseled face and long hair.
Oh fuck me, it was the guy from the picture.
The guy from the picture was my tattoo artist that I’d poured my soul out to over the past two months while he designed my tattoo.
I was going to be sick.
