Page 18 of Campfires & Canines
"It’s so relaxing. I'd do this every night if I lived here." She sighs and leans back again to admire the constellations through the swaying branches.
Onyx brushes his shoulder off like he thinks he’s some sort of rock star. "Campfires are nice, but I prefer more thrilling and impressive activities. Like cliff diving or hang gliding."
I roll my eyes. "You've never done any of those things."
“I could have,” he argues.
“But you haven’t,” I retort.
"You know, for someone who looks like such a bad boy, you're pretty boring yourself," Onyx shoots back.
"I look like a bad boy?" I wonder, amused.
"It's the tattoos," he explains with a sly grin. "But then you open your mouth and everyone knows how boring you are."
I consider chucking a pinecone at him.
"You do have a lot of cool tattoos." Hazel is looking at the flames, avoiding me. "I like the wolf on your back."
"When did you see his back tattoos?" Cedar asks.
Shit.
Onyx's eyes widen like he was just given a gift.
Hazel opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
"She ran into me hiking today," I explain, praying they drop it.
"Oh." Marigold looks from Hazel to me.
Onyx is still grinning like a nitwit and I know I’m going to hear about this later.
"Do you guys have any tattoos?" Hazel changes the subject again, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
Cedar complies. "I have a few." He lifts one side of his shirt, showing individual stems of his favorite plants in a botanical style down his ribs.
"Oh, that's so cool!" Hazel says. I choose to believe she is admiring the tattoos and not Cedar's six-pack.
Of course, Onyx immediately pulls his shirt off and twists to show off the tribal tattoos across his shoulders and chest, not-so-subtly flexing.
"Put your shirt on, you ding dong," Marigold scolds. She glances at me, nervous. It's fine. I’m fine. She must not be convinced, because she tries to distract me. "Slate, I wanted to add more flowers on my calf. Could we do it soon?"
"Whenever you like," I agree instantly. I love tattooing my friends.
"You did their tattoos?" Hazel whips around, surprise widening her beautiful tawny eyes.
"Yeah. It's a hobby," I confess with a shrug.
"How'd you get into it?"
"I did an apprenticeship in town a few years ago."
"Why don't you tattoo for your job?" She frowns at me. I guess we are getting personal.
"I was going to, but I decided to change career paths. My dad always wanted me to take over his position someday, and after he died, it just seemed like the right thing to do." I trail off. That answer didn’t go according to plan. Bothered, I scuff my heels along the dirt.
"I'm sorry for your loss." Empathy softens her features. It’s so genuine, that I’m taken aback.
