Covet Thy Neighbor by L. A. Witt

weirdest was when he came back two years later and wanted me to ink over that one with another woman’s name.”
    “Wow.” Darren chuckled. “I can’t decide if he’s indecisive or too quick to commit.”
    “Little from column A, little from column B . . .” Satisfied the corner was as sharp as it was going to get, I started on the horizontal line of the right branch. “And then there was the girl who wanted a tramp stamp that said Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here .”
    “You’re serious.” He turned his head again, glancing at me. “Someone got that tattooed on. Permanently.”
    “I swear on my life, it’s true.”
    “Wow.” Darren laughed. “There are some strange people in this world.”
    “Agreed.”
    We kept the conversation on light, comfortable subjects. As long as we talked, the pain didn’t seem to bother him all that much—though I did hit a sensitive spot now and then—and as long as we didn’t go back to the topic of religion, I didn’t have to think too much about the design and the text I was drawing.
    About an hour and a half later, I was finished. I cleaned off the tattoo and had him take a look at it. As I bandaged it, I carefully smoothed the tape, making sure there were no wrinkles or puckering that might get uncomfortable, which was in no way an excuse to run my fingers, gloved or otherwise, across his skin.
    “Okay, you’re done.” I got up and peeled off my gloves. “How does it feel?”
    “Burns a bit.” He stood. As he put on his shirt, he said, “You were right, it wasn’t that bad. Just really”—he locked eyes with mine—“intense.”
    “Yeah. They sometimes are.” I broke eye contact and fumbled for one of the preprinted instruction cards. “Take the bandages off in a few hours. Don’t let it dry out.” I handed him the card. “Just follow the instructions on here, and it’ll heal in about a week.”
    “Will do.” He scanned the card, and then slipped it into his back pocket. “Do you need a hand with anything in here?”
    “No, no, I’ve got it.” I nodded toward my workstation. “Just need to clean that up. Won’t take but ten minutes.” I smiled. “I’ve got it.”
    “Okay. Well.” He extended his hand. “Thanks again.”
    “Anytime.” I shook his hand, shivering when our palms met without the latex in between. “If you want another one, you know where to find me.”
    He laughed. “We’ll see about that.”
    We both glanced down, and I realized we hadn’t let go of each other’s hands yet. We quickly released our grasps and pulled our hands back.
    “Anyway.” He cleared his throat, a little bit of color blooming in his cheeks. “I should call it a night. Are you sure you don’t need any help here?”
    “No, no, I’m fine.” I nodded toward the door. “You go ahead.”
    “All right. Have a good one.”
    “You too.”
    He paused in the doorway. “Hey, you mentioned a while back that you’d be willing to show me around some of the trails. Up in the mountains. Is that offer still on the table?”
    “Um, well . . .” It was tempting, of course, but every time we breathed the same air, I was less and less sure where I stood with him, or if there were signals I should’ve been reading, or signals I was unintentionally giving off.
    Darren smiled. “Just friends, Seth. I’m not asking you out.”
    “No, of course not.” I gave a quiet laugh to hide the mixture of relief and disappointment. “I was just trying to think which trails are worth checking out this time of year. What’s your schedule like this weekend?”
    “Busy, as always.”
    “Yeah, same here.” I spun my key ring on my finger to give my hand something to do. “Monday?”
    “Monday works,” he said with a nod.
    “Cool. Meet me—well, I guess just come by my place Monday morning.”
    “Can you give me your address?” he deadpanned. “Not quite sure I remember how to get there.”
    “Smartass,” I muttered. “How does eight