Page 4 of Patchwork
He stares at me for a few long seconds then shakes his head. “No.”
I feel like I’m missing something, but I can’t put my finger on exactly what. It’s like there’s a joke I’m not in on. Or maybe he really just thought I recognized him from somewhere. I guess that’s better than him realizing I was drooling over him like a total horndog.
I open a fresh razor and do a quick once-over to make sure the spot is nice and smooth before grabbing the lavender scented antiseptic wash to clean the area.
“So, you from Milwaukee or are you just in the city for the convention?” I’ve always found that making small talk sets people at ease, especially tattoo virgins. It’s definitely not that I’m dying to know if he lives nearby.
“I’m in the city for… work.” He clears his throat. “I’m staying at the hotel across the street actually, and I saw the signs for the tattoo convention this morning, so I figured I’d pop over and check it out.” He holds still while I uncap a pen and start to draw the outline onto his skin. “I grew up not far from here though. In a little town called Fall Crosse.” He wheezes a tight laugh. “No one’s ever heard of it, but it’s near—”
“I know where it is.” I cut him off with a smile.
“Yeah. You know it?”
“That’s actually where I live. It’s where Ink Slingers is located too. So, if you don’t hate your first tattoo, you should be sure to swing by the next time you’re passing through Milwaukee forwork.” I put a little extra emphasis on the word the same way he stuttered over it before. Whatever he’s being cagey about, it’s fun to see him squirm a little before he grins again.
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
I nod, then swivel around to set up my needle and ink.
“You ready?” I ask once I have everything set up.
Onyx takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, then lets it out slowly. “Ready.”
I press down on the pedal and bring the buzzing needle slowly to his skin, prepared for the possibility that he might startle or flinch. Tattoo virgins aren’t the only ones who do it either. I’ve inked plenty of people who jump the second the needle touches them, even after a dozen tattoos. He manages to hold still though, rigid as a statue for the first few slow lines I draw with the needle. After a minute, he starts to relax.
“That’s not so bad,” he says with a serene lilt to his voice.
There’s nothing I love more than the people who relax and enjoy the flood of endorphins that come with a tattoo session. But seeing peacefulness wash over Onyx’s face isn’t justnice,it’s sexy as hell. It’s too easy to imagine that same slack, blissed out expression on his face following something a lot more exciting than a tattoo session. I almost wish he’d asked for something more complicated than a spiderweb now. I’ll be finished with this in no time, and then he’ll be gone.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice his fingers twitching. It seems erratic at first, but the longer I watch it, the more obvious it becomes that the motions are the finger positions for guitar chords, like he’s playing air guitar.
“Sorry,” he mutters when he notices me watching, curling his hand into a fist to stop his fingers from twitching.
“I don’t mind. If it keeps you relaxed, go for it.”
“I’m relaxed,” Onyx says. “That, uh, it’s just this thing I do without really thinking about it. It’s kind of weird.”
“It looked like guitar chords. I’m assuming you play?” It’s even easier to make small talk when I have the excuse of keeping my eyes on my work instead of staring at his tempting lips and mesmerizing eyes.
“Yeah.” His fingers start moving again, and this time he doesn’t try to stop them. “It’s… I have this thing called synesthesia…”
He pauses, and I nod. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard of that. That’s where your senses are mixed up, right? Like you see emotions as colors and stuff?”
Onyx chuckles. “Kind of, yeah. It’s different for everybody, but the big one for me is that touch is auditory. Feelings usually are too.”
“Holy shit, for real? So, what, when you’re anxious you hear, like, the score fromJawsor something?”
He barks out a louder laugh this time. “Kind of,” he says again. “It’s my own music, not music I’ve heard before, but that’s basically the idea.”
I turn that over in my head while I keep working, noticing the rhythm of his fingers even more now. I wish I knew something about music so I could figure out what the chords he’s playing would sound like.
“If it’s mainly touch and emotion that turn into sounds, sex must be interesting.” I flinch as soon as the words fall out of my mouth, pulling the needle away from his skin so I don’t fuck up. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
I glance at his face, and instead of scorn or disgust I catch him dragging his tongue along his bottom lip with a smolder in his expression.
“It is.” His voice is back to that husky tone, raising goose bumps all over my skin.
I pepper him with some more questions, and just like I thought, I finish up his tattoo in no time. My spiel about home care is so automatic it leaves me with plenty of brain space to wonder if I should ask for his number while I’m rattling it off.
