Clockwork

I was running my daily routine throughout London, or well, I was going to start my daily routine after I grabbed some coffee. I didn't have much planned for the unexciting Sunday. I had a couple of meetings with Tex and Jake about the shop so after I grabbed my coffee I headed toward the 'office'.

I dropped in and got coffee at my favorite coffee house, Lilies. And drove, as fast as I could in this god awful London traffic, to my new tattoo parlour I'd just opened here, Clockwork Tattoos. We were closed for the day so I figured I'd get a little brainstorming and decorating done after the meeting.

A few hours later I was packing my notes and sketches into my work bag and thinking about what I wanted to do for the rest of the day. I could actually go home and start some ideas. Nahhhh. I think I'll do some shopping. I decided to just do some window shopping and browsing. I walked into a vinage looking store with a pair of boots in the window I was interested in. I glanced at the 30-something woman behind the counter and smiled. She looked me up and down and scoffed a little to herself. I began to browse while the woman stared at me from the corner of her eye.

A this point, I was so used to this nasty looks, even though they didn't happen as often in London but was always bad when I went home to see me family in Tennessee. Over my 3 years of collecting tattoos I've amassed quite the collection and I've got a bit of an ear piercing collection going. London was very used to freaks and I often felt like I belonged here.

After purchasing the boots from the store, I wandered into a book store/coffee shop. I instantly felt a sense of warmth and comfortableness. I browsed the aisles, picking out a few comic books and small novels until I stopped at the' Rock and Roll Biography' section. I peroused the books, flipping through the pages. I'd noticed someone had come down the aisle but I figured they didn't want to talk so I kept my head down.Growing up in the Southern parts of the U.S, I'd gotten used to people being very approachable and hospitable and I like that but it gets annoying and I was missing it a little since my move to London. Anyway, I'd spotted a Nikki Sixx autobiography I wanted but the stranger was in the way, who was very tall compared to my 5 foot 4 inch frame.
I slowly looked up at him and smiled, "Excuse me."

He jumped in suprise not expecting me to speak to him, "Oh I'm sorry." He voice was a low, quiet, smooth British voice(well, of course). He didn't want to speak too loudly as it was very quiet in the book store.

I grabbed the book and stepped back to where I was before. After a second he said to me, "If you don't mind my saying but I really like your tattoos."

I smiled up at him,"Thank you. Do you have any yourself?"

"A few. Swallows and my chest and a few others."

"Sweet! I have swallows too but they're on my stomach."

"I am definitely not as tattooed as you but I like the one's I have, ya know?"

"Yeah I totally get what your saying. Oh," I said digging through my pocket. "This is gonna sound really douche-y but heres my card if you ever want a new tattoo or you just wanna hang around my new shop."

He gave a low laugh,"Hang around your shop? Just to kind of sit and talk or something?"

"Yeah, people do that, ya know, hang around and talk about the world. It's a great atmosphere if you're looking to get away from everything else. Oh Jesus I sound like a shrink," I said laughing at my own babbling.

He smiled at me,"Yeah. Yeah, I might just do that. I'm due for a new tattoo and I'd love to get tattooed by such a gorgeous girl like yourself."

I blushed a little(I'm not one for getting embarassed or anything). "Thank you. Call me or just come by."

I started walking away with my books and I saw him glance down at the card and rub the back of his neck. He was cute, maybe not exactly my type, but cute enough. Plus, I thought I'd seen him before but I just couldn't place it and it didn't seem too important right now.

A few days passed and it was turning out to be a slightly busy Wednesday. I was cleaning up my chair and little station when I heard my bestfriend, Stormi, yell over the My Chemical Romance I had recently been playing.

"Mora! There's some nervous looking bloke asking for you!"

Jesus could she get any louder? I threw away my paper towels and walked towards the front desk area,"Hey! I wondered if you'd stop by..uhh..I didn't get your name, Sugar."

He smiled a cheeky smile,"It's Harry, and I couldn't pass up an oppourtunity to get a tattoo from you, gorgeous." Man this kid is a charmer.

I didn't want to blush so I boosted my internal confidence levels, "Well, what can I do for you Harry?"

"Well, I wanted a butterfly on my upper abdomen for my mum."

I smiled a cheeky smile,"Okay. Come on around here."

He followed me on back to my chair,"I really like your parlour, nice place, nice atmosphere, nice people."

"Thank you. That makes me feel good knowing people like the atmosphere around here. You're going to have to take your shirt off."

He pulled his grey shirt over his head revealing a musculer abdomen and a V-shaped torso. I could have melted into his body, if I'd actually known him.

We talked about his tattoo, I drew something for him that he loved, and started tattooing after I got the okay that he liked everything about it. 15 minutes into his tattoo Stormi, a closested Katy Perry fan, changed the Red Hot Chilli Peppers album to some kind of Katy Perry album I'd never really heard, but I didn't like it. "Stormi, I swear if you don't change this I will slap the shit out of you later."

"Okay. Okay. Nirvana?"

"That'd be awesome."

Harry had been eye-ballin' me the entire 15-20 minutes I'd been tattooing him but I didn't mind as I got looked at a lot when there's nothing else to look at.

He finally spoke up,"So you like Nirvana?"

I didn't look up but I smiled,"Yeah I love Nirvana. If I ever have a son I might name him Kurt." I chuckled toward the end because I had zero love life. I was a 21 year-old tattoo artist that hadn't had a date in a long time, let alone good sex.

"What if your spouse doesn't like Kurt?"

I glanced at him over my glasses,"Then I'm raising that baby on my own." I laughed,"No I'm kidding but I've got a strange name so it only makes sense to give my kid a strange name, too."
"Well, I've got an old man name."

"I don't think Harry is an old man's name."

"But Harold Edward is."

I chuckled a little loud,"Your name is just super British. Atleast your full, legal name isn't Mora August Reagan Patterson."

"But I'm British! That's quite a lot of names."

We continued on about names and horror movies, mostly because I was named after Reagan from The Excorsist. He was smart, funny, and genuinely nice. I finished his tattoo and he checked it out in the mirror and thought it was great.

"Funny, smart, beautiful, and talented," emphasising the 'and', smirking in my direction in the mirror.

"Uh, I was wondering, Harold, if you might want to get some coffee, or tea or whatever you British people drink, tomrrow morning. That is, if you're not doing anything."

He faked gasped,"Why Miss Patterson I would assume you were asking me on a date!"

I giggled a little,"Maybe I am Mr.Styles but it's just for coffee before I come into work. If your in, how does 8 sound?"

We were walking towards the door, "8 sounds great. Thanks for the tattoo and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

When he closed the door behind him I felt all the adrenaline that it took for me to ask him out wash out of my body, leaving me feeling strange. Stormi practicaly sprinted over to me,"Mora did you just ask out Harry?"

"Yeah."