Post by Louly Summers on Jan 22, 2017 20:08:39 GMT
Six months. Six months wolf free.
Eight months. Eight months since she had last seen or heard from Samuel or Teddy, a mutual decision.
Seven months, twenty-one days since she'd found a job at a crummy, but modest bed and breakfast in downtown Beacon Hills, where she now resided.
Eight months. Eight months since she had last seen or heard from Samuel or Teddy, a mutual decision.
Seven months, twenty-one days since she'd found a job at a crummy, but modest bed and breakfast in downtown Beacon Hills, where she now resided.
"...pour some sugar on me!" the warped sound of a Def Leppard song crooned in a rough voice from the speaker set in the black-and-white tiled tattoo parlor. Summer raked her sensitive fingertips down the microsuede chair she had been instructed to wait on, watching the fabric change colors before her very eyes. She leaned back into the lumpy love seat, crossing her legs at the knee, eyes drooping to her black leggings, eyes growing desperate for some new stimuli to focus on. She'd been waiting to be called back for so long that she'd witnessed four girls with fresh, shiny new ID's get their belly buttons pierced.
Tick-tock.
Summer silently counted the individual cat hairs embedded in her cozy leggings. Around 'seven,' she heard a grumbling. Slightly more persistent grumbling.
"Summer? Hi! Sorry, Bart, the guy doing your tattoo, lost his voice. Guess you couldn't hear him, huh?" A kind lady with hoops in each of her nostrils and blue-green doe eyes said with a bright smile. "He's ready for you." She finished, smile unwavering despite Summer's silence.
"Oh! Shit - shoot, sorry," Summer stood and headed toward the hissing of needles and the kiss of permanent ink. It seemed like it lasted five minutes, but the neon digital clock beaming above the door told another story: half an hour had passed, and she was finished. She ran her finger along the back of her neck, the slickness of the plastic wrap not masking the sting of her inked skin underneath. She handed over the money, plus a tip, and headed for the door, stopping abruptly when she noticed how dark it was, and that rain was climbing down the building.
"Hey hon, do you want to wait that out in here?" The lady with the hoops asked in the same curiously high voice of her's. "I can make some coffee or something-" She offered with a half-smile, almost hopeful.
'Is she trying to be friendly? Is it weird if I don't stay?' Summer thought, pursing her chapped, bare lips. "I can't. I have to go feed my cat. I've been at work all day--" She let her words hang, eyes widening slightly as she spoke, acutely aware of how stupid she sounded. Thunder racketed outside. "...maybe I could stay for awhile." She finally agreed. The woman squeaked a little and headed to start the ruby red coffee maker that stood on a metal cart inside a room marked "employee's only."
The door opened, and a few people ducked in, one complaining about the rain, the other excitedly going on about a piercing that sounded like it could take place somewhere that'd normally be hidden by clothes, so Summer quickly looked away and tried to tune it out. She headed to the mirror that stood beside a rack of pre-drawn tattoos and wrapped a hand around her hair, piling it into a high bun a top her head, exhaling loudly as she caught sight of the simplistic, thick black-and-white lines of a sun and moon, sitting diagonal from one another. It was different. Different was good.