Waking up in Vegas

I traced the tattoo on John’s chest with my finger as I listened to him talk about some band meeting stuff. To be honest I wasn’t really paying attention. My focus was more on the tattoo. I had always loved them and they looked so hot on John, but I had never really thought about getting one myself. I didn’t know what to get or where to get it and it was just too permanent to be so careless about. If I ever put something permanently on my body I wanted to make sure I would never regret it ever.

“Do you think I should get a tattoo?” I asked abruptly, interrupting John midsentence.

He didn’t seem too upset about it though when he answered with a question of his own.

“Do you want to get a tattoo?”

“I don’t know. I used to always say I never would but yours are really cool. And really sexy,” I said with a grin.

He chuckled and kissed me on the lips. “You’re sexy without them. What would you get?”

“Yeah see, here’s the thing: I have no idea. I want it to be special though; it’s gonna be there forever.”

“That’s very true.”

“Do you ever regret yours?” I wanted to know.

“No not really. They all mean something different. Some are more important and significant than other but they all have their own reasons for why I wanted them.”

“Even this one?” I asked, pointing to the writing on his side.

“Well it’s true isn’t it?” he asked with a grin.

“I suppose,” I answered with a grin of my own.

“Don’t get one just to get one. Get one because it means something.”

“I could get something for my mom,” I said quietly after a couple minutes of silence. “That would definitely mean something.”

“That it would,” he said and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Would you go with me if I ever got one?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

I smiled at him and started thinking about what I could get. Now that I had talked about it, it seemed kind of exciting and I was starting to really want a tattoo. I thought about the little bit of time I had spent with my mother and what I could get to remember her by. I didn’t want to be cliché and just get one that said Mom or something cheesy like that. I wanted it to be pretty.

“Kendall!” I heard John yell.

“What?” I asked, wondering why he was yelling at me.

“I’ve said your name like five times. Where’s your head?”

“I’m thinking about tattoos.”

“Well if you’re thinking that much about it, maybe you should get one.”

“I think I do want one. I just have to figure out what.”

“Well, keep thinking about it.”

And I did. For the next couple of days I thought long and hard about what I could get to commemorate my mother and where I could get it. It was a lot easier choosing a location than it was choosing what I was going to get.

When it finally hit me I felt like an idiot. It was pretty much right in front of my face and I should have realized it sooner. I still had the stuffed owl that my mother had given me on my seventh birthday, right before she died. And I remembered that she loved owls; she had them all over the house and she talked about getting one as a pet. I never knew if she was serious or not.

So I called John and told him that I was ready and he told me which tattoo place I should go to so I could make an appointment for a couple days later.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said as I walked into the tattoo parlor holding John’s hand. “Everyone is gonna freak out.”

“Are you sure you want this tattoo?” John asked me.

“Yes. I’m positive. Now let’s go in before I chicken out.”

John laughed but we continued walking through the doors. I went up to the desk and told them my name and that I was ready to get my tattoo.

John and I talked as they got everything set up and I was glad he was there. He was calming me down and I wasn’t scared. At least not yet.

“Kendall?” the guy called out and I turned to face him. “We’re ready for you back here.”

“Let’s go!” I said to John and grabbed his hand to pull him behind me.

“Alright so what are we getting?” Steve, the tattoo artist, asked me as I sat down in the chair.

“An owl on my right thigh,” I answered confidently.

“Nice! So give me some more details.”

We talked about logistics and exactly where I wanted the owl, and I told him about what I wanted it to look like and showed him Hooty, my stuffed owl for inspiration. He drew something up and it was absolutely perfect; it looked just like it. And I was glad it would be unique.

I showed him exactly where I wanted it, right in the front a little ways above my knee, and he put the stencil on. I examined it in the mirror to make sure it was in the right spot and gave it the okay.

“Alright, I hope you’re ready for this because here we go,” Steve said once I was back in the chair and he had everything set up to begin the tattooing process.

“I’m ready,” I said and gripped John’s hand.

The needle came down and I almost wanted to laugh. It hurt but nowhere near as much as I thought it would. And John and Steve were doing a good job of keeping me distracted so I wasn’t thinking about the pain. Steve asked me about why I was getting the tattoo and what it meant and John was adding in his two cents. Honestly, John’s presence alone calmed me down and made me feel at ease.

It took more than an hour just for him to finish the outline and I was starting to get antsy. I almost wanted to call it a day and say forget about the colors. But I looked at the picture again and I knew it would look so much better with all of it done. So I sucked it up and stayed in my seat. By then my leg was feeling pretty numb so at least it didn’t hurt as much anymore. There were a few extra sensitive spots that I wasn’t too fond of. But John was there and I squeezed his hand when it hurt too bad and he would say soothing words and make me feel better.

After what seemed like all day Steve finally said he was all done. It was time to see the finished product. I stood up and moved in front of the mirror to take a look.

“Holy shit! This is so awesome! I love it! I absolutely love it! It looks just like Hooty. Thank you so much,” I said and gave Steve a hug.

He smiled and said, “I’m glad you like it. And you were a champ. So it looks like your boyfriend here has plenty of tats and can probably help you but I’ll tell you about the healing process anyways.” He gave me a flyer and told me how to take care of it until it healed, but I knew John would be able to help me too. After all, he had ten tattoos. I was good with just one.

I got everything I needed and got bandaged up and we left the tattoo shop the same way we had entered it, hand in hand.

“That seriously looks so fucking good Kendall. Aren’t you so glad you got it?” John asked as we were driving back to his place.

“Yes! I love it so much. I just want to sit here and stare at it. Thanks for coming with me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh come on, sure you could have. Steve said you were a champ.”

“Yeah because I’m sure I squeezed the shit out of your hand,” I said with a laugh.

“Yeah it does hurt a little bit. I think you’ll have to do something for me to make up for that,” he said with a smirk on his face and I hit him on the shoulder. “And now something for that.”

I giggled and unbuckled my seatbelt, sliding over on the bench seat. I ran my fingers through his hair and leaned over to kiss him on the neck. I placed my other hand on his thigh and started sliding it up higher and higher as I kissed him harder, trying to leave a mark.

“Fuck Kendall, you can’t do that while I’m driving,” he said and his point was proven when he had to slam on his brakes.

I moved back over to my own side and started laughing. I had succeeded in leaving a mark that was just getting darker and I had left John flustered.

“You’re such a tease,” he said when he figured out what I was doing and I just laughed harder. “I’m going to get you for that. And there better not be a fucking mark, I have to go to dinner with my parents tonight.”

“Oh shit, really?!” I really liked them and I didn’t want them to think badly of me because of a hickey on their son’s neck.

Now it was his turn to start laughing. “No I’m just messing with you. But you should have seen your face.”

I slapped him again.

“And now you owe me for that.”