Page 69 of Rebel Summer

We opted to stand on the deck. The sun drew close to the horizon, almost blinding us with its golden rays spread across the sky. I bounced up and down on my feet, unable to be still. Excitement and determination infiltrated every part of my being. I suspected that getting a tattoo would feel like stepping out of the salon after a bold new haircut. Something different than the way I’d always been. Something to shake me up. I had been one type of person my entire life. But I wasn’t sure if I became that person because it's who I really was or if I became that person because I had to.

Becoming brave and defying the expectations of others was the first step for this recovering people-pleaser.

It was genius.

Unfortunately, the boat was the biggest buzz kill. The leisurely pull and tug through the water was in direct contrast to my bouncing feet and pumping heartbeat. I could have swam faster. I did a few quick right jabs into the air to keep my adrenaline pumping.

This ferry better hurry the freak up, or I might not even want a tattoo by the time we crawled into port.

I was aware of Dax observing me. I ignored his pointed looks and concentrated on the form of my uppercut.

“What are you going to get, Rocky?” Dax asked, leaning closer and resting his elbows on the ship. “A skull? Crossbones? My handsome face?”

I was working on my left hook now. “I haven’t decided yet. Will they have a catalog to look through?”

That brought a smile to his face. “Yup. They’ll have lots of options for you.”

“Great,” I said, going back to bouncing on my feet. “I’m so excited.”

When he didn’t say anything, I added. “Fifty hours down. That should put me at around one hundred and thirty?”

“I guess so.”

“I’m so excited,” I said. Had I already said that?

His eyebrows raised. “You trying to convince me or you?”

Okay, yeah, I had already said that. I smiled brightly. “Nobody. Just excited.”

“You like needles?”

Did I like needles?

Of course not. But right now, I was an unstoppable bundle of adrenaline. I could handle the needles. Women pushed babies out of their bodies on a regular basis. I could handle a needle for five minutes.

“Wait. How long does it take? To get a tattoo?”

Dax shrugged. “Just a small one? I don’t know. Probably an hour.”

I sucked in a breath and paused in my bouncing. “That seems excessive.”

He smiled, and my gaze fell to his arms, currently glistening in the glow of the setting sun. “How long did yours take?”

“Each of them probably took about four hours or so.”

“How did you decide what to get?” I asked.

“Excuse me.” We both turned to see a young girl with blue hair sticking out from under her beanie with an SLR camera slung across her neck. “Are you two a couple?”

I inched away from Dax. “No,” I said. “We’re just fr—acquaintances.” Work associates? Jailbird and warden?

The girl’s brow furrowed, taking us both in with some confusion. “Oh, sorry.”

Dax continued to lean against the railing and smiled at the girl who seemed at a loss for words and not sure what to do.

“Did you need something?” he asked.

She drew in a breath. “My name is Whitney. I’m in a photography club, and I have an assignment due tomorrow. I need to take some pictures of a couple. I thought with the sunset it would be pretty, but…if you’re not…” She trailed off as she motioned to a rapidly diminishing sky of color.

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