“That was fast,” I say, walking over to inspect the little diamond that sits on her slightly red nostril as if my heart isn’t going crazy inside my chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I love it,” she declares, turning for a full-length mirror to admire it some more.
“Looking good,” Holden says, appreciation in his tone.
“Bite me.”
“Yes, please.”
The door swings open, cutting off their bickering, and Christian pops his head in. “We’re heading out.”
“Enjoy your belly ring,” Thayer taunts, and then they’re both walking out the door.
Asshole.
I turn back around, noticing two leather booklets on top of the glass case, one reading Tattoos, the other Piercings in silver Sharpie. I flip through, checking out all the different facial piercings, but about three pages in, I pause, unable to look away.
I’ve always thought they were pretty, but never something I could pull off. I never even considered getting them for myself, but for some reason, now that the idea has taken shape, I can’t shake it. It’s been gnawing at me ever since I saw the jewelry in the case. I want to do it. I’m going to do it. Something slightly rebellious, but not as permanent as a tattoo. And I can’t deny that there’s something appealing about knowing no one else will ever see, unless I decide to show it to them.
Nate comes around the counter, asking which jewelry I like, and I point to what I want.
“That’s not what you’re looking for.” Nate chuckles. “The naval rings are here,” he says, stubbing a tattooed finger down onto the glass.
“I know. I want these.”
His eyes snap up to mine.
“Those are for nip—”
“I know.” I widen my eyes at him.
Nate clears his throat, but the professional in him recovers quickly, plucking a tray of various barbells out of the display case. “Let’s get you back in the booth so we can discuss it further.”
I nod, then Nate leads me to a very bright, very sterile-feeling room with a chair that reminds me of the exam table at my OB/GYN.
“Have a seat,” he says, closing the door behind him.
My heart doubles its pace, and the nerves start to set in as I hop up onto the chair. Nate eyes my shaking hands and I clasp them together in my lap in an attempt to steady them.
“You sure about this?” he asks, lifting a brow. “Quite a leap for your first time.”
Good little girls don’t get their nipples pierced.
Thayer’s words play back in my head. Is it a cliché rebellious teenager move to get piercings in questionable places? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway?
I swallow hard, then give a firm nod. “Yes. Let’s do this.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and for some reason, it’s that smile that makes me suddenly realize that this guy is going to be up close and personal with my nipples. Nate drops down into a rolling chair and scoots toward me, tray of jewelry in hand.
“But we should hurry. Before I can talk myself out of it.”
He chuckles, reaching over to pull a rolling stand over, then sets the tray on the top before refocusing his attention on me. “Can you lift your shirt for me? Your bra will need to come off, too.”
I nod, taking a fortifying breath. I pull my shirt over my head, then slide my bra straps down my arms and reach behind me to free the clasp of my bra, letting it fall into my lap. My nipples tighten painfully, as if they know what’s coming.
“You have perfect nipples,” he remarks.
“Um.” I don’t know what to say to that.
“For piercing,” he amends. “They’re proportionate and not flat, so they’ll look great.”
“Okay.”
He leans in close, inspecting me, and I try my hardest not to fidget as his fingertips pull slightly on the tip. “I’m thinking we’ll go with a fourteen gauge since they’re pretty small. I’ll leave the bar a bit longer to accommodate the swelling, but you can change it once you’re healed.”
“How long will that take?”
Nate lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard to say. As far as pain, you’ll hurt tonight, and they’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. No playing—” he says with air quotes, making his meaning clear— “for four to six months.”
Wow. That’s a lot longer than I would’ve guessed. But it still doesn’t sway me.
“Ready?”
“Yep.”
Nate stands and does something at the small counter on the opposite side of the room and returns with gloved hands holding white gauze.
“To sterilize,” he explains. “It’s going to feel cold.”
He swipes the cold liquid across my right one first, causing me to shiver. He repeats the motion to the other side, and then he’s turning for the counter once more. When he turns back around, he has some sort of metal device in his hands, and I feel my eyes go wide.
“Relax, it’s just a clamp. Are you the need-to-know-every-step kind of girl? Or just get-it-over-with-as-soon-as-possible girl?”
“Definitely the latter. Just tell me when it’s coming.”
“Deal.” He sets the torture device down onto the tray and plucks a thin, purple Sharpie out of his pocket, biting the cap off with his teeth. His brows furrow in concentration as he dips his head down to get a closer look. He’s so close that I can feel his breath on my skin as he flicks my nipple with the tip of his finger. He draws a small dot on one side of my nipple, then one more on the opposite side. He repeats the motion to the other one, then leans back, inspecting.
“Look even to you?” he asks, handing me a mirror.
I give a quick look, uncomfortable seeing the reflection of my bare chest even though I’ve been topless in front of him this whole time. “Mhm.”
“Lie back.”
I do as he says, bringing the backs of my hands over my eyes as my back hits the table. I hear him rustling around, and then feel cool metal against my skin.
“This is just the clamp,” he clarifies. I feel my nipple being pinched, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just uncomfortable. “Okay, now take a deep breath for me, Shayne,” he instructs, his voice smooth as velvet, but it doesn’t do much to comfort me.
I inhale deeply, filling my lungs, and when I release it, hot, sharp pain sears through me. I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, and my hands fly down to my sides, digging my fingernails into the leather seat.
“Good girl,” he praises. “The needle is through. I’m just feeding the barbell through now.”
“Don’t say needle,” I manage to grind out, only half-joking. I feel like I’m going to throw up. My entire body is trembling.
“One more to go.”
It’s the same process for the other side, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m expecting it, but I swear it hurts more. The pain is intense, but it’s over mercifully quick. Once the initial pain fades, it morphs into a duller, throbbing sensation.
“Breathe,” Nate instructs. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. I focus on taking slow, deep breaths, doing my best to ignore whatever it is he’s doing. Screwing the ball onto the barbell, if I had to guess.