Page 109 of Get Over It, April Evans

“You bought new ink for me?” Daphne asked. She was sitting up on the chair, her legs out in front of her like she was at the dentist, her right arm propped on a paper-covered armrest stand next to her.

“Maybe,” April said, grinning as she set the ink on her worktable, black latex gloves on her hands. She spread a bit of Vaseline over Daphne’s arm. “You ready?”

Daphne swallowed. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, feels like a massage.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.”

Daphne laughed but then stuck out her tongue.

“I’ll be right here the whole time,” April said, winking.

“I certainly hope so.”

“Ready?” April asked again.

Daphne nodded, then added a “Yes” because a verbal confirmation seemed important when one was about to have a needle draw a design permanently into one’s skin.

“Here we go,” April said, and the tattoo gun started buzzing.

The needle came closer and closer and soon it was pressing into Daphne’s skin, a dull sting. It felt like a needle scratching at a sunburn, but Daphne found she could handle it.

She sat back and tried to relax. April had turned on some chill music, and they talked off and on as April worked. Daphne was fascinated watching her draw, her hand steady and sure, the indelible art taking shape.

It took a while.

A few hours, in fact, during which Daphne alternated between being completely fine and even euphoric to wanting to punch April in the face, particularly during the shading.

“Pain endorphins,” April said three hours in. “They come and go.”

“Does this propensity toward violence also come and go?” Daphne asked, her teeth gritted as April colored in a stem near the inside of her elbow.

“Let’s hope so,” April said.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” Daphne said, and April laughed.

And actually, the entire processwaskind of hot.

Intimate.

Daphne couldn’t stop staring at April—the art she was creating, yes, but also her face as she did it, her warm breath on Daphne’s arm, face pressed close.

Finally, after five hours and a few breaks for water and a little kissing, it was done. Daphne stood to look at it in the full-length mirror, gasping at what she saw. The colors, the shading, the design—it was everything she never knew she wanted on her skin.

April took a few pictures of it, then pressed a rectangle of clear Saniderm over the entire piece to protect it for several days. When she was finally done cleaning up, Daphne grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close.

“Oh, hey,” April said, laughing, but Daphne didn’t waste any time before kissing her.

She kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

“Thank you,” she said when they finally came up for air, her forehead pressed to April’s. “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

April’s smile was soft, a little vulnerable. “Really?”

“Really.”