Brooke Roberts

The shop bell rings as soon as I step through the door. I feel a chill in the pit of my stomach at what I’m about to do. It's permanent—but so is my love.

“No,” I protest when I see Seth leaning against the reception counter. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

“That hurts, Little Bee.” He clutches his chest dramatically.

I turn to my bodyguard with what I hope is an accusatory look.

“You told them?” I ask.

He raises his hands.
“No, Brooke. You said it was going to be a surprise, and I kept the secret.”

“It was me,” the man behind the computer confesses. I walk up to them, and Tristan has a guilty expression on his face. “I couldn’t hide it from him, Brooke. He’d kill me, and he has the training for it.”

“He’s one of the best,” Ethan offers, not helping at all.

“As if I’d let another guy tattoo my Little Bee,” Seth says, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to his chest.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” I grumble.

“And it was—I swore Tristan was messing with me. But I wasn’t willing to take that risk, so I came to check. And good thing I did. You were really going to trust someone else to mark your skin forever?”

When he put it that way, it did seem a little short-sighted on my part. But I wanted it to be a gift for the men in my life. Well, the sentiment still stands, it just needs adjusting.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I murmur. I turn to Ethan. “Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says and heads toward the studio’s lounge area, settling onto one of the black couches.

“So, Little Bee, what are we doing today?” Seth asks, turning me to face him.

I look away, suddenly embarrassed by my choice, but I take a deep breath and pull my phone from my bag. I open Pinterest and show him the image that most closely resembles what I want. A mermaid tail, with a sun on one side and a palm tree on the other, with a few thin lines tying the design together delicately.

“But I’d switch the palm tree for a bee,” I say, and Seth’s lips curl into a smile. His eyes find mine, and all I see is love and adoration.

“It’s going to look beautiful. What size and where do you want it?”

“Whatever size you think works best, but I want it on the top of my spine.” I gesture to my back. I came prepared, wearing leggings and a tank top that leaves the area exposed.

Seth nods.
“All right, give me a few minutes to sketch the stencil and we’ll get started.”

He takes my phone and a thin piece of paper and begins to draw. It’s hypnotizing watching him work, his strokes precise, and I see the design take on an even more impressive form than the digital version. He adds some details—dots outlining certain parts—so that all elements are connected.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I ask, impressed.

Seth looks up from the drawing.
“I can’t fold a fitted sheet. That count?”

“I’ll accept that. No one can be perfect at everything,” I declare.

“You are,” he replies. His gaze intense on me, every word spoken with conviction. My heart leaps, and my eyes sting, the power of his love hitting me like a punch.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He drops the pencil, comes around the counter, hugs me and gives me a quick kiss.

“I love you, Little Bee,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Hey, hey, no PDA in my studio,” Tristan says. “Guys, I never thought I’d see this scene.” He points at us. “I’m happy for you, Donahue.”

“Don’t be annoying, Cox,” Seth grumbles, kisses the top of my head, and goes back to drawing.

A little while later, my boyfriend shows me the sketch. And it’s even better than I expected.

“Perfect!”

“Great, come on.” He stretches out his hand and leads me to one of the chairs that looks more like a leather medical bed. “I’ve already sanitized everything and we’re ready to start. You want it colored, Little Bee?”

“Yes.”

“Any preference for the mermaid tail?”

I turn to him, locking eyes with his blue gaze—darker than Kyle’s or Raffi’s—and I know my answer.

“Shades of blue.”

Seth smiles and nods in agreement.

“I’m going to shave a small area before applying the stencil so you can see where it’ll go and tell me if you want it moved, all right?” he says, pulling on black disposable gloves.

He steps behind me, and I feel the razor glide over the top of my spine. He wipes the area with alcohol, takes the paper, and presses it against my skin, sending shivers through me just from the feel of his fingers.

“Take a look,” he says, holding up a mirror, and I see the 15-centimeter design in purple lines exactly where I had imagined. “Want to move it? Lower, maybe?”

“No, that’s exactly where I want it.”

“Then it’s time to lie down, Little Bee.” I follow his instruction, lying face down. The chair is more comfortable than I expected. He places a sort of cushion with a hole in the middle in front of me. I rest my head there. “Arms by your sides, palms up.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur, knowing exactly what reaction that’ll trigger.

Seth grips my butt firmly.

“Little Bee, Little Bee,” he murmurs in my ear, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I didn’t.” The laughter in my voice is obvious.

“Keep it up and the payback comes at home.”

“Promise?”

He laughs, and the hand still on my butt slips closer to the center between my legs.

“I created a monster,” he says, and I hear a buzzing sound.

“Anyone hearing you might think you don’t love every second,” I counter.

“Never. It's written on my forehead how I feel about you.” He touches my back, stretching the skin. “Now, this might hurt, sting, tickle, or feel good—it’s impossible to predict. If you need a break, just tell me.”

“I know my colors,” I reply.

“That’s my girl.”

The buzzing grows louder, and I have to suppress the urge to turn around and watch him. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain. The first touch of the needles is strange, and I flinch, but once I adjust, I realize it doesn’t hurt. It's just a discomfort, like Seth said—it actually feels more like a tickle.

“How are you doing?” he asks after a few minutes, pulling the machine away.

“I’m fine. It’s not as bad as people say. It’s weird and I can’t ignore the sensation, but it hurts way less than waxing,” I reply honestly.

Seth laughs—he’s been doing that more and more, and I love every second I get to share in his happiness. I still can’t believe I actually considered getting a tattoo without him—denying him this opportunity.

***

"All done, Little Bee," Seth says, turning off the machine, and I already miss the comforting buzzing sound.

I sit up, rolling my sore shoulders after staying in the same position for so long. My boyfriend hands me a handheld mirror, and I use it to see the reflection of my back in the full-length one behind me.

The colors are perfect, vivid. The mermaid tail starts in a deep navy blue, softening into a sea-blue and lightening to a glacial tone. The color of my boyfriends' eyes. The sun and the bee are delicate but stand out against my skin.

"I love it!" I turn and hug Seth. "It's amazing, it's like you read my mind."

The bell chimes, drawing my attention, and a red-haired woman walks in, her eyes landing directly on me with my arms wrapped around Seth. Her expression hardens, and she walks to the counter to talk to Tristan.

"I’m just going to put the healing adhesive over it and then you’ll be good to go. I still have another tattoo to do before heading home," Seth says, applying the adhesive once we're back at his station. "It’ll protect your skin from bacteria and water, and you don’t have to change it, but you can’t sweat excessively for the next 3 to 7 days so it doesn’t come off early."

"I can’t sweat?" I ask. That’s new and definitely unpleasant news.

"If you take care of it, I’ll check on it after the third day and we can take it off. But for now, your workouts and other extracurricular activities"—he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively—"are on hold."

"Alright," I reply, resigned. "I’ll see you at home then."

I start to walk away, but he grabs my hand, pulling me back and holding my face, pressing our lips together in a passionate kiss that makes my heart leap.

"See you later, Little Bee."

"See you, love you!" His chest swells when he hears me say it.

I turn to leave and Ethan gets up, stretching. The redhead sitting on the other couch glares at me, and I try to remember if I’ve seen her before. I don’t recognize her, but it’s clear she doesn’t like me for some reason.

"Ready to go, Brooke?" he asks, holding the door open for me.

"Can we stop by the store on the way home?"

The confusion on the woman’s face is almost funny as she looks from me to Ethan and then to Seth.

"Of course, let’s go."