Chapter 2: Tattooing His Face on My Chest
814 Words
I felt a bit embarrassed. "I just really like the vampire design," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Oh, really?" His eyes twinkled with amusement as his fingers traced circles on my chest.
Jesus! This was the first time I'd been so close to a man, and I kept my head down, feeling shy and awkward.
I wanted to ask if such a big tattoo needed a numbing agent, but I didn’t want to interrupt his concentration.
There’s something so attractive about a guy who’s focused.
Finally, I couldn't hold back. "Do you think we can finish this today? It's pretty big. Maybe it would look better on my back?"
I had jumped into this on a whim, and now a large tattoo on my chest seemed like a bit much. Plus, it hurt.
Noticing my anxiety, he smiled and said, "No worries, I’ll make it smaller."
Was he really not going to use any numbing cream?
The next few minutes felt like forever.
To distract myself, I looked around the room.
From where I sat, I could see the counter clearly.
Behind it, a man's foot was sticking out, like someone was lying on the floor.
"Is there anyone else here?" I asked, confused.
His needle moved smoothly, completely unbothered. "Just me. Why do you ask?"
I blinked, thinking I must have imagined it. When I looked again, there was only a single male shoe.
He must have sensed my unease.
Turning to glance at the counter, his hand pressed harder with the needle, making me flinch.
He looked at me coldly, "Why are you shaking?"
I almost burst into tears. "Did you forget something important before starting?"
He paused, then pulled out his phone to check. "Oh, sorry about that. I forgot the numbing cream. My bad."
I was starting to doubt his skills even more.
And from this angle, it still looked like there was a person behind the counter.
Seeing my concern, he explained, "That's just my shoe. You know how guys are, not too tidy."
Given his good looks, I could overlook this minor flaw. I gritted my teeth and let him continue.
I stayed still, watching in the mirror.
On my fair skin, a tiny face began to take shape.
I had to admit, my earlier doubts were unfounded.
A lifelike image appeared on my chest.
But why did it look just like him?
Who in their right mind tattoos their own face on a client’s chest on the first meeting?
I felt a mix of shame and anger. "Why... why did you tattoo yourself on my chest?"
Was that a love confession?
He seemed pleased with himself. "It’s unique, right? A little personal touch."
I had to admit it's unique, but still creepy no matter how gorgeous his face was.
Despite myself, I glanced again at the shoe. He smiled, "How does it look?"
He kept stroking the design as if bringing it to life.
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of happiness.
Apart from his untidiness, he didn’t seem to have any other bad habits.
These were tolerable flaws.
I slapped my passport on the table. "It looks great. If you’re willing, we can get married right now. I’m quite satisfied with you. As for love, it can grow after marriage."
I walked to the counter to pay.
Up close, I noticed a puddle of water next to the counter. The air smelled terrible, like something was rotting.
On the floor, there were not just one, but two shoes, along with scattered clothes and pants, like someone had been lying there.
The absurdity of the thought quickly passed.
I convinced myself he was just messy, tossing his clothes and shoes around.
It was a bit beyond my expectations. Didn’t he wash them? They smelled awful.
I comforted myself, "He’s handsome. A bit messy is okay. I can help him clean up."
I was about to ask how much I owed when he said, "Just tip whatever you like."
I transferred $500 to him.
His charming blue eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn’t say if he’d marry me, leaving me feeling awkward.
I found him flawless and feared scaring him off, so I put my passport away. "If you think it’s too soon, we can take more time. We can do a prenuptial agreement and get our finances sorted. I run a dessert shop, live with my parents, earn a good income, and am emotionally stable."
He smiled and walked away to make a call. "Bring me the license... yeah, the human one."
Was he agreeing? But what did he mean by "human one"?
We had just met, so I didn’t fully understand his habits or his way of speaking.
When a Porsche 911 pulled up in front of me, my jaw dropped. "Is that your car? Chris said you were just average. But this car…?"
- Writer
