he says, stubbing his fingers onto the glass countertop, his arm brushing mine in the process, “but in the end, you’ll back down and play it safe, because good little girls don’t get their nipples pierced.”
I don’t know what I hate more. The way he’s talking to me or the fact that he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he knows me. He saw me eyeing them. That’s it.
“Done!” Valen chirps, skipping back toward us. Thayer backs off, and Holden watches us intently from the couch on the opposite side of the lobby. Oblivious, Valen frames her hands under her chin, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “What do you think?”
“That was fast,” I say, walking over to inspect the little diamond that sits on her slightly red nostril as if my heart isn’t going crazy inside my chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I love it,” she declares, turning for a full-length mirror to admire it some more.
“Looking good,” Holden says, appreciation in his tone.
“Bite me.”
“Yes, please.”
The door swings open, cutting off their bickering, and Christian pops his head in. “We’re heading out.”
“Enjoy your belly ring,” Thayer taunts, and then they’re both walking out the door.
Asshole.
I turn back around, noticing two leather booklets on top of the glass case, one reading Tattoos, the other Piercings in silver Sharpie. I flip through, checking out all the different facial piercings, but about three pages in, I pause, unable to look away.
I’ve always thought they were pretty, but never something I could pull off. I never even considered getting them for myself, but for some reason, now that the idea has taken shape, I can’t shake it. It’s been gnawing at me ever since I saw the jewelry in the case. I want to do it. I’m going to do it. Something slightly rebellious, but not as permanent as a tattoo. And I can’t deny that there’s something appealing about knowing no one else will ever see, unless I decide to show it to them.
Nate comes around the counter, asking which jewelry I like, and I point to what I want.
“That’s not what you’re looking for.” Nate chuckles. “The naval rings are here,” he says, stubbing a tattooed finger down onto the glass.
“I know. I want these.”
His eyes snap up to mine.
“Those are for nip—”
“I know.” I widen my eyes at him.
Nate clears his throat, but the professional in him recovers quickly, plucking a tray of various barbells out of the display case. “Let’s get you back in the booth so we can discuss it further.”
I nod, then Nate leads me to a very bright, very sterile-feeling room with a chair that reminds me of the exam table at my OB/GYN.
“Have a seat,” he says, closing the door behind him.
My heart doubles its pace, and the nerves start to set in as I hop up onto the chair. Nate eyes my shaking hands and I clasp them together in my lap in an attempt to steady them.
“You sure about this?” he asks, lifting a brow. “Quite a leap for your first time.”
Good little girls don’t get their nipples pierced.
Thayer’s words play back in my head. Is it a cliché rebellious teenager move to get piercings in questionable places? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway?
I swallow hard, then give a firm nod. “Yes. Let’s do this.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and for some reason, it’s that smile that makes me suddenly realize that this guy is going to be up close and personal with my nipples. Nate drops down into a rolling chair and scoots toward me, tray of jewelry in hand.
“But we should hurry. Before I can talk myself out of it.”
He chuckles, reaching over to pull a rolling stand over, then sets the tray on the top before refocusing his attention on me. “Can you lift your shirt for me? Your bra will need to come off, too.”
I nod, taking a fortifying breath. I pull my shirt over my head, then slide my bra straps down my arms and reach behind me to free the clasp of my bra, letting it fall into my lap. My nipples tighten painfully, as if they know what’s coming.
“You have perfect nipples,” he remarks.
“Um.” I don’t know what to say to that.
“For piercing,” he amends. “They’re proportionate and not flat, so they’ll look great.”
“Okay.”
He leans in close, inspecting me, and I try my hardest not to fidget as his fingertips pull slightly on the tip. “I’m thinking we’ll go with a fourteen