On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,59

as she takes a bow. “Always happy to assist.”

“I don’t know how I will ever make it up to you.”

Jenna presses her lips together. “Oh, I know exactly how you will make it up to me.”

Heidi nervously leans back. “How?”

“Number two.”

“Number two?” Heidi repeats. Then she gasps. “Jenna, no.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

I chuckle. “I thought you guys already did your number two,” I say to Jenna.

“Not my number two,” she says. “Her number two.”

I grin as Heidi cringes in my lap.

“Please make me do something else,” Heidi begs. “Anything else.”

“Nope.” Jenna grins. “You and me, girl. We’re doing it. Today.”

“Today?!”

“Today.”

Heidi collapses her head onto my shoulder.

Chapter 31

Heidi

Ah, jeez.

Why did it have to be number two?

I stare at the options on the wall of the tattoo parlor as a pit grows even deeper in my stomach. A needle roars in the far corner behind a curtain, but I can’t help but picture that sharp bastard digging into skin and—

“Girl, relax,” Jenna says from behind me.

“I’m fine,” I squeak. “I’m relaxed.”

“Girl...”

I spin around to face her. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Oh, come on.” She snorts. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Infection,” I blurt. “Or there could be an earthquake and he doesn’t pull the needle away in time, and then I’m scarred for life with some weird, squiggly line.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. That’d make a hilarious story.”

My shoulders sink even more. “Doesn’t this hurt?” I ask. “Like really hurt?”

“No,” she says, maintaining her smile. “It’s like a little pinch.”

I glare at the closed curtain again. “That doesn’t sound like a little pinch...”

Jenna sighs as she spins around. “Drew, help me out here,” she says.

Drew turns from the back wall where he was scanning other tattoo choices. “What’s up?” he asks as he strides over to us.

“You have a tattoo,” she says.

He nods. “Yes, I do.”

“Then, would you please tell her that it doesn’t hurt that much?”

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” he says.

“There!” Jenna grins in triumph. “See?”

I search Drew’s eyes for comfort. “Is it really not that bad?” I ask.

Drew chuckles. “Well, honestly... I don’t remember getting my tattoo. I was really wasted that night, but—!” He touches my shoulder as I start to lose my shit again. “It’s really not that bad. Many people actually like it so much, they get addicted to it.”

“Many people also get addicted to heroin,” I argue.

“That’s it!” Jenna snaps her fingers. “We’ll just get you wasted!”

I don’t say a word. I just glare at her.

“No?” she asks.

Drew takes my hand and leads me away from Jenna. “Heidi, it’ll be okay,” he says once we’re alone. “This place is clean and safe. Kenny’s been doing this for like thirty years. I’ll be right there holding your hand the whole time.”

“You really don’t remember it?” I ask.

“I don’t, but what I do remember is the morning after. I had just moved into the Delta Xi house. All the new recruits had done it the night before and it was like we were part of this awesome exclusive club together. I look back on that day sometimes and grin like an idiot.” He smiles. “Think of it this way: who’s your ideal Heidi? The girl who makes a memory with her best friend? Or the girl who doesn’t?”

I furrow with suspicion. “This question seems manipulative.”

Drew chuckles as his hands settle on my hips. “You don’t have to do it,” he says. “Say the word and I’ll back you up. I just don’t want you to miss out on something cool because you’re scared of a little pain.” He bites his lip. “Also, tattoos are sexy. Especially on girls.”

“Manipulative...”

He kisses my forehead. “What do you say?” he asks. “We crushing that vision board today or what?”

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs to the brim and holding it there. Five goals for a perfect freshman year, right?

What’s the worst that can happen?

I exhale all of it. “All right!” I say, pumping myself up. “Let’s do it.”

Immediately, Jenna swoops in and grabs my arm. “Okay, so...” She tugs me back to the wall. “I’m thinking the butterfly.”

I follow her pointer finger to the cute monarch above our heads. “That’s nice,” I say, letting my adrenaline guide me.

“It’s better than nice,” she says. “It’s a metaphor. You and me, emerging from our small town cocoons, and taking on the big, wide world together and looking absolutely fabulous while we do it.”

“Wow.” I nod. “That’s not bad, actually.”

“I know, right?” She smirks. “You get the left wing, I’ll get the