(RIVALS) The Upside of Falling ✔️

Epilogue

Becca

The buzz from the needle filled the room as the artist pressed down on the foot pedal. I desperately glanced around at the deep red walls and the shiny black tiles on the floor. Anywhere but the needle.

I had a death grip on Brett's hand as I stared down at my forearm laid bare on the black leather stool before me.

Inhaling deeply, I tried to turn my attention away from the horrifying sound. I glanced at Brett who was watching me with bright eyes, his smiler even brighter.

"This was your idea," he reminded me.

I wanted to smack him.

Yes, five years ago I had told him that someday I would want a rose tattoo to match his. But now that someday was today ... I was beginning to regret the promise I made him after the first time we slept together.

"I'm afraid," I confessed, eyeing the needle as the tattoo artist filled up three tiny cups with different coloured ink.

"The forearm is one of the least painful spots," the artist replied nonchalantly. I eyed the skull tattoo on his left temple, with two snakes coming out of its eyes, and frantically looked at Brett.

He chuckled. "You're going to be fine, Becca."

I glanced down at my forearm, at the outline of the rose that the artist would soon trace permanently into my skin.

I want this, I reminded myself. And, I did. I had reminded Brett repeatedly about this tattoo throughout college. During our late nights cramming for exams or our late nights doing ... other things, I annoyed him non-stop about the promise that still lurked in the back of my mind.

After we graduated last week, we had both decided that now was the perfect time for me to get some ink.

Well, I had decided. Brett agreed instantly, more than happy to put an end to my constant reminders.

Now that I was here, sitting in a tiny tattoo shop in front of a man with ink decorating every inch of his body, I had to bite the bullet, stop being a wuss and just do it.

"Hey," Brett squeezed my hand in his as our eyes locked. "It's ten minutes of pain for something that'll last the rest of your life."

"So it does hurt!" Brett rolled his eyes as the tattoo artist chuckled, both equally fed up with my whining.

It wasn't that I was afraid I would look back and someday regret getting this tattoo. It was the idea of this tiny needle piercing my skin repeatedly that terrified me.

"You're gonna be fine. Look," the artist spun his chair to face me. Grabbing my forearm, he slowly dug the tip of his nail into my skin. "Did that hurt?" He asked.

"No," I replied wearily, eyeing the crescent shaped indent on my arm.

"That's almost what it'll feel like," he said simply as he returned his attention back to pouring ink.

"Almost?"

The artist laughed. "That's just a little fake pain, hun. The real thing always feels different."

I glanced at Brett. He was already giving me a knowing look. Smiling, he said, "Not always."

The artist gave us a funny look before picking up the tattoo machine and facing me. "Ready?"

I tightened my grip on Brett's hand. "Ready."

I held my breath as he lowered the machine to my forearm. The needle touched my skin and I gasped at the burning sensation.

"This is so awesome," Brett breathed from beside me.

The needle traced along my skin, burning the black ink of the stem into my arm. I watched in awe, the pain beginning to fade to the back of mind as reality hit me.

I was getting a tattoo. A silly promise I had made Brett one morning on a complete whim had actually turned real.

Why did our entire relationship come down to something becoming real?

Brett kissed my cheek as the needle began to trace the outline of the rose petals. It was only a quarter done and it looked beautiful.

"Does it hurt?" Brett asked.

I shook my head slowly. "It's worth it," I replied honestly, wincing as the needle moved further up my arm.

"Is there a story behind this?" The artist asked as he traced the second petal.

"I have a similar one on my shoulder," Brett said proudly. "She's totally obsessed with me and wanted to match."

The artist chuckled as Brett's laughter filled the room. I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him. "If I could move right now, I would slap you."

"Oh, baby, I know." Wink.

Nearly five years later and that stupid wink still made my heart race.

I continued to watch the needle trace lines into my skin as Brett briefly told the artist the real meaning behind this flower; about the beauty and the love it embodied; about the permanence it symbolized and all we overcame to be here now, together.

I extended my left arm to Brett and he grabbed my hand in his instantly. He pulled my fingers to his face and kissed them lightly.

"I've spent the last five years loving this girl." Brett's eyes stared deeply into mine as he spoke.

"And?" The artist asked, encouraging him to continue.

Brett smiled, his finger playing with the ring on mine. "And I can't wait to marry her next year."

The artist's eyes flickered between the two of us before landing on the engagement ring decorating my finger.

As the artist traced the last petal on the rose, our rose, I smiled back at my fiancé.

"Neither can I."