Escapade | Daniel Seavey AU

13

It actually doesn't look that bad, I thought to myself as I stared at the tattoo that was permanently inked into my skin. I observed the details Hanson had created on the shoulder of my back, and smiled at the work he had made. It came out really well, of course it still hurt but it wasn't too bad.

"Here's a tissue," Brennan approached me, handing me a tissue, "you've got snot coming out of your nose—honestly, you're quite the crier."

"I'm really not," I mumbled, consciously wiping around my nose before tossing it in the trash. "Are you also getting a tattoo?" She nodded.

"Pick for me, Dani-boy," she insisted, tossing me a book of all of Hanson's work.

"Why?"

"Because I let all my friends pick for me, if I do," a smile etched on her face, "then you're special." My brows pulled together, confused by what she meant but I sat where she was when I was getting my tattoo. "Just pick something from the small section, I don't want anything too big."

"Where do you put them?"

"I try to organize them around here—" she gestured to her left bicep "—if not, a few on my back since I keep these areas covered." She proceeded to remove the leather jacket she sported, revealing the muscle tank top she wore underneath alongside the colorful drawings on her bicep and around her shoulder, where it creeped to hide underneath the clothing that covered her left shoulder blade area.

"Wow," I muttered, my eyes wide at the sight. "And you want me to pick a tattoo?"

"Yup," she nodded, a closed-lip smile on her face, the dimple in her cheek seemed to deepen even more than usual. There was no doubt I found Brennan attractive, but now, it seemed to feel a little more. How she holds such a carefree attitude has always intrigued me, but I was still too focus on my studies to really see her this way.

I only nodded, flipping through the pages of Hanson's portfolio. I glanced at her arm a few times to see which tattoos she already received. "Have you gotten a bumble bee?"

"Not yet," she shook her head, looking down at her arm. "You're going with the bee?"

"Why not?" She sent a look to Hanson, to which he nodded and sat beside her, getting his tattoo gun ready. I handed the portfolio back to him so he could see which one I had chosen for her.

"You know, the bumble bee symbolizes brightness and personal flow—was it intentional, Daniel?" Hanson asked. I shook my head. "But it's fitting for Brennan."

"Aww, Hanson," she cooed, "stop, I'm flattered."

"Also could mean petty, but you know," he added, earning a glare from the girl. Hanson then looked up, the tattoo gun just inches from her skin and glanced between the two of us. "You're not gonna hold hands?"

"Hasn't she—" my sentence was caught off in the middle when I felt her cold hand intertwine with mine, her fingers slipping into the space between my own.

"It's nice when there's someone else to comfort you," she said, before leaning her head onto the chair, her eyes fluttering close, but her grip not loosening from our hold. I felt my heart race within my chest, but did nothing to break the hold, giving her hand a brief squeeze and watched Hanson create the tattoo.

_____

"Don't remove the bandage for the next three hours, alright?" Hanson began explaining a lot of the requirements I needed to do to keep the tattoo from getting an infection, Brennan watching from the sideline in pure boredom as I nodded to everything he said, and kept them in mind.

"Gosh, Hanson, you don't need to fuss," Brennan stepped in, "I'm here to take care of Dani."

"Says the girl that went against everything I said after her third tattoo and got an infection," he retorted, raising a brow towards her.

"I didn't go against everything," she retaliated, "I only picked the skin because it looked peelable—things like that tempt me."

Ignoring her, Hanson looked back towards me, "Just follow everything I explained to you and you'll be good."

"Thanks, Hanson." Brennan stuck her tongue out to the artist, to which he retaliated with lifting his middle finger, before the two of us left the tattoo parlor and climbed into her car. "Are we going straight home or are you going to explain to me why we should find food?"

"It's only been, what? A month since we became friends and you already know me," she mocked, sending me a wide grin. "But yeah, after tattoos, I get hungry."

"You get hungry all the time," I muttered, earning a back-hand from her and a chuckle from me. "Anyway, which college are you thinking of going to?"

"I'm not going to college," she uttered, her eyes locked on the road. "Doesn't seem important."

"How come?"

"Well, it's like school, except more work and less free-time," she explained, "I didn't have a choice for regular school, but I have a choice whether I want to continue my education now so I choose no."

"But—"

"Daniel, I know you love school and all, but not everyone does, alright?" The mood dropped almost immediately. By her tone, it was obvious the topic irked her in some way. "So just drop the topic." I stayed silent, only sending her a few looks with one thought in my mind the entire ride.

She's carefree, but maybe too carefree.