Our Favorite Days (My Favorite Mistake #3) by Chelsea M. Cameron Page A

less time.
    The next hour and a half lasted what felt like an entire day. By the time Rush cleaned me up, slathered something on me and then put what looked like plastic wrap over the tattoo, I was done. So. Done.
    “Do you need me to carry you, baby?” Hunter said. He only rarely called me that and it kinda drove me crazy. I just gave him a withering look and tugged my shirt down.
    Ow. Seriously. Ow. Moving hurt. Everything hurt.
    “Make sure she eats and if you have any questions or problems, please let me know,” Rush said as he gave the aftercare instructions to Hunter since I was still too focused on the pain on my side. It was kind of like a sunburn, only worse.
    Hunter helped me out to Sassy and lifted me into the passenger side, buckling my seatbelt for me.
    “Ow,” I said, pouting. He kissed my lower lip.
    “I know, Missy. But I’m gonna take good care of you.” I raised my eyebrows because there was no way in hell I was up for any kind of sexual activity.
    “I swear, if you even breathe on me in a sexual way, I’m going to hurt you,” I said, wincing as he hit a pothole in the parking lot and I bounced in my seat. I wanted to use every single curse word in existence right now.
    Why did I think this was a good idea?
    “I definitely wasn’t thinking of that. Something more along the lines of making you tea and rubbing your feet while you lay in bed and watch whatever the hell you want on TV.” Now that sounded more like it.
    I looked over at him and he smiled at me.
    “I know what you need,” he said with a most smug smile. I hated that he did and was so pleased with himself about it.
    “I guess,” I said, pretending apathy.
    “You know I do,” he said, pretending to sing.
    “Ugh, shut up and drive,” I said, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against Sassy’s cold window. He’d finally conceded that his car was officially dead, no bringing it back, no resurrection. We had to make the time to find him something else. I wanted to go to a dealership, but he was all fine with buying something off to a Joe Six Pack from Craigslist.
    “You did really well. Didn’t even shed a tear. I cried for my first,” he said in a low voice that made me open my eyes and turn slowly to look at him. Motherfucker, that hurt even worse than getting the damn tattoo.
    “You did?” I asked, not really believing him.
    “Yup. Bawled like a baby. The only one who knew was the guy doing the work and I swore him to secrecy. You took it like a champ, Missy. Like everything.” I snorted and for some thought back the first time I’d gone down on him.
    “Well, now I’m second-guessing every single decision I’ve ever made,” I said, wincing again.
     

     
    H unter did carry me upstairs and put me to bed, but not before everyone crowded around to see the tattoo. It was universally heralded as “wicked awesome” and I was pretty sure they weren’t just saying that because I had this permanent thing on my body.
    “Are you going to tell your mom?” Hunter asked as I flipped through the channels with one hand and sipped a vanilla chai tea with the other.
    “Um, have you met my mom? She’s going to murder me in a very messy way if and when she finds out about this. I’m just going to keep hoping she never finds out.” I shrugged one shoulder and settled on a marathon of something stupid on MTV. Watching other people make terrible decisions in their lives made me feel better.
    “She might surprise you. Maybe she’ll think it’s cool that you have your lucky talisman on your body forever.” Our eyes met and he gave me a smile that was tinged with sadness.
    I still remembered the night when I finally told him everything. Pulled all the skeletons out of my closet and laid them at his feet to judge. And he’d looked at them and told me he loved me anyway.
    “Yeah, I don’t think so. But nice try,” I said, putting down the remote and patting his leg.
    “It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?” he