It’s early morning and a pleasant breeze brushes my hair.

On the way to my studio, I stop at the seven eleven around the corner to buy a large cup of coffee. There’s nothing better than a steamy hot, roasted coffee to start the day.

“Hey.” I groan as I walk into the tattoo shop.

“Hey, Zac what’s up?” My sister replies. She’s the one in charge of opening every morning. 

“Not much, how’s it goin’?”  I tell her between my teeth - I’m definitely not a morning person.

“Um, Chris just called,” she squeals. “He said he needs to talk to ya.” 

I grunt. “Ok, thanks,” I reply as I walk into my studio.

Chris is an art dealer I met a few years ago.  He always tries to talk me into organizing an exhibition of my paintings - he says I have great potentials - but I don’t think I’m ready for that.  If it bombs, it may jeopardize my rep as a tattoo artist too.

I close the door behind me and I hang my leather jacket on the back of a chair. Calmly, almost ritually, I start getting my stuff ready. The tattoo gun, a few transparent packs of sterilized needles, and all the colors I might need this morning.

Today I’ve got two clients. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. I usually don’t do little pieces – that’s amateurish – so my works require a few hours, and I often need more than one session to complete them.

I sip my hot coffee from the paper cup, savoring its bitter flavor. On the radio, Amy Lee is singing ‘Bring me to life’. It’s a little old song but I’ve always liked it.  Then I stop what I’m doing, and I shake my head slowly, chuckling afterward.

Bring me to life is the title of this song and that suddenly makes me think about Grace. Tingly chills whisk down my back as Amy Lee’s crescendo reaches its peak, then I notice I’ve got goosebumps on my skin.

I grab my phone and use the Tattoo Shop’s Facebook profile, to look at Grace’s.

I look at her pictures and the way she replies to comments, the emoticons she uses. I want to claim her in every sense. I’ve never felt such a physical attraction for a girl. Not even my first, and only love. 

I need to stop thinking about her before my client arrives. I grunt standing; then I open the door of my studio and I step out, keen to put my thoughts aside.

My sister is sitting behind her desk in front of the front door of the shop. She’s my secretary.

“You ready Zac?  He was supposed to be here like ten minutes ago.” She grumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit.  If he doesn’t come in next fifteen minutes, I’ll cancel.”

She grins, nodding slowly.

I snort, sidestepping the desk where she’s sitting. “What the fuck are you doing Chels?” I groan, bowing my torso to look at the computer screen.

“Shut up!”  She smiles, nudging my waist with the palm of her hand.

“No seriously, what’s that?  I’m just curious.” I say.

She blushes, and without looking at me she mutters, “I’m reading a novel.”

“Oh, is that it?  Cool. What about it?” 

“It’s just a romance, like a, um, a bad boy romance ya know?”

I grunt, not quite understanding what she’s talking about and not really interested.

“Oh ok, nice. You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s ok. I’ve read better ones in the genre, though.” 

I raise an eyebrow walking toward the shop’s transparent windows. “Hmmm, I see,” I tell her absentmindedly.

She chuckles. “Zac, you are not listening right?”  

“What? No, I am.”  

“Yeah right. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” She giggles.

I chuckle. “Well, I guess you are right. I’m not quite into Romance.”

“You silly!” She smirks jokingly, biting her bottom lip.  

I wave her silent, letting out half a grin as I keep staring through the ground-to-ceiling window of my shop.

“But hey, tell me something. When are you gonna grow up and get serious?” She squeals.

I keep looking outside. “What do ya mean Chelsea?” I lazily ask. 

I’m used to my sister questions since she was able to speak, but now she’s in her late twenties and she still blurts whatever crosses her mind all the time. 

“I mean, you are not getting any younger. You are almost thirty and you could have had kids by now. Don’t you want a family? Children? Don’t you think you had enough fun in your life so far, and it’s time to start acting seriously?”  She says all in one breath.

I slowly turn, feeling slightly annoyed by that kind of preaching. If she hadn’t been my sister I’d have told her to get the fuck out of my face.

“Jeez Chels, are you fucking serious or what?”

“Yeah, I am. But just ‘cuz I love ya Zac!”

I sneer shaking my head. “Do you want me to end up like daddy?” 

“Oh, my Gosh Zac! Knock it off, please! You are not him! Women are not like that. Well, not most of them, I guess?”

“Listen, sweetie. The only one time I allowed myself to fall in love I was dumped without apparent reasons.  What about that? So, I’ll fuck as many women as I can until I’m able to.”

“Oh, Jesus. When was that? In damn high school?”

“Yeah, you are the only one who knows about it, so why do you ask?”

“Because it was fucking too early to consider it real love! Teenagers do that all the time! They constantly switch boyfriends, girlfriends and so on! And they don’t make such a big deal out of it. Yeah, they may suffer if they are dumped but after a few days, they already like another one. Your problem is what happened to daddy. Isn’t it?”

“Listen. I don’t want to go there alright?  The only thing I know is that what happened when I was sixteen is exactly what daddy used to tell me.”

“Yeah right,” she says with a sarcastic tone. 

She’s about to continue when my heart suddenly thunders. On the other side of the street, I see Grace walking on the sidewalk.

I instinctively open the door and I rush out. 

“Zac what are you-” I hear my sister wailing behind me.

As I rapidly jaywalk the street, a couple of cars honks loudly.

I walk a few feet behind her, then I hurry forward until I manage to sidestep her, standing in front of her.

She gasps widening her eyes. I give her a second to realize it’s me. She’s about to let out a timid smile, but I don’t give her the time to speak. I grab her waist and pull her to me, tilting my head to kiss her.