Elliot ditched his jock reputation after high school. He happily traded his cleats and shoulder pads for college cafeteria food and seminars notes. Now, without the distraction of football, he has managed to find success at the University of Minneso...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The tattoo shop smelled like birthday candles. A scent of non-toxic paraffin with a brief whiff of secondhand smoke, yet somehow sweet because of the excited anticipation in the air. Like the seconds before celebratory flames in a homemade cake are extinguished with a heavy blow and everyone claps. Identifiable enough to be homey, but too rare to refuse returning.
Wyatt practically lived at the tattoo shop. He had spent so many hours there that the owner had offered him an apprenticeship. He declined, though, since he was much more of a hockey player than an artist. His skillset wouldn't be much of an asset to the business.
"Would you ever be a tattoo artist, Elliot?" Hayden wondered, peering over her brother's colored ribcage. Quinn stood silently by her side, linking their hands as the rest of the group settled into the establishment.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I never thought about it." He wondered if his family would approve.
"You an artist?" The tattooist didn't look up when he asked the question. With a flat expression, he wiped away some excess ink with a latex-clad hand. A motion he had probably done hundreds of times.
"I draw sometimes," Elliot said modestly.
"He paints too," Nicki boasted for him. "And sculpts on occasion. He's very talented."
This got the bearded man's attention. He looked up at Elliot. "Really?"
Elliot shrugged. "I'm okay."
"We're always lookin' for new artists," the man said, going back to his work. "If you're ever interested, give us a call."
Elliot gave him a thankful nod, detaching from the group to aimlessly wander around the shop. He didn't want to be the center of conversation, no when it involved a strange - a very talented stranger who made him feel inferior.
He moved his feet toward the jewelry rack, keeping his cold hands in his coat pockets. His thumb rubbed the safety pin Pierce had given him, missing his presence.
"Where's Pierce?" Hayden asked.
"In the back," Wyatt replied. "Getting a tattoo."
Elliot whirled his head. "A what?"
The tattooist chuckled dryly. He was finishing the last bit of shading on Wyatt's tattoo. "I liked that guy's attitude. Wasn't afraid of a thing."
"You should see him on the ice," Wyatt commented.
You should see him in bed. Elliot kept the thought to himself, though.
"Can I get a tattoo?" Blake asked.
"No," Nicki answered for him. She was sitting on his lap, positioning to take a selfie. "We don't have time."
Nicki had planned the entire evening, which meant everyone had to participate and everything would be documented. If it didn't fit her itinerary, it wouldn't be happening.
"I've always wanted to get my tongue pierced," Hayden shared.
Quinn's eyes bulged. "We have time for that. We definitely have time for that."
Wyatt gaped at her from the leather chair he had been reclined in for hours. His muscles were stiff, but he still mustered enough strength to narrowed his eyes like a typical over-protective brother. "Do we?"
"Of course we do, Wyatt. Let's not ruin your sister's dream."
"We should all get piercings," Hayden suggested.
Elliot flipped the safety pin in his pocket, replying, "Sure. I'll get a piercing."
Hayden beamed, turning to her girlfriend. "Quinnie, will you get one?"
"No." Trying to be impressive she decided, "I'll get two."
