"What? Are they mint leaves?"

"Mint leaves?"

"You said, 'That's so mint.'"

"Right..." He squinted. "Is that not something you say?"

"Is what?"

"You know, like that's awesome, or cool, or crackin'."

I nodded. "Cracking?"

"Anyway." He pointed. "That's my favorite one, but this is your body. What do you fancy?"

Did I really want to tell him that I had my eye on that one from the start?

"This your first tattoo?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Eighteen today?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Maybe something simple, then?"

He moved toward me as we examined more images on the wall. Not the slightest hint of cologne came with him. Surprising. Most guys had enough scent emanating from their deodorant, plus the extra cologne on top of that, to instantaneously make me sneeze.

His breath landed on my neck as he leaned over me and pointed to another design. I stepped back and ignored the shiver making its way to my fingertips.

"Any ideas?" Phillip, the tattoo artist, said from behind me. "Need some help?"

"I have a few ideas." I really wanted the one Alistair liked—or fancied—but...

"Do you know where you want it?" Phillip said.

I turned to face him. "Thinking my arm. Down the side here. Or maybe my back or shoulder."

"Show me a few you like." Phillip stepped forward as I pointed a few out, then he continued, "Okay, I can see your style pretty clear here. How about we start small with this one"—he gestured to my second favorite design—"and then you can always come back and build from there to the vine down your arm." He paused. "You're not nervous, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, no. I'm ready."

The next hour, or however long it took, dripped by like water from a sink left on the absolute lowest setting. If I experienced pain along with the vibrating sensation on my arm, I didn't notice. My mind was far too distracted by the boy sitting across the room, scrolling through an iPad and laughing at the screen every few minutes. He carried with him a simple charm. Not that typical ladies man charm, but a distant charm that conveyed depth and passion. Mystery. He had mystery. That’s what it was. And I dare say … he intrigued me.

But….

The inevitable but.

It wasn't unlike me to make friends fast or to associate with strangers, but becoming distracted by a boy was not on my list of acceptable actions.

Especially one like him. My parents would have a field day and there was absolutely no way I'd allow that. Jane Austen would not marry a British man on the hills of an English countryside. She definitely, definitely would not do that.

Marry? I asked myself. How did we jump to marriage already?

I closed my eyes and hummed Tchaikovsky in the quiet of my mind until Philip said, "That your boyfriend?”

Eyes still closed, I said, “No. We just met.”

“Oh, really? You seem pretty close for just meeting.”

I didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he said, “Feeling okay?”

I nodded and continued humming songs in my mind.

Finally, he wrapped it up and told me to look. I opened my eyes to Alistair smiling down at me. Then quickly closed my eyes again.

Something about....

"I'm famished," Alistair said. "Mind if we stop and get something for lunch?"

Phillip helped me sit up. "What do you think?"

I analyzed the simple design on my left shoulder. "It's perfect. Thank you." Definitely sore though. "What do I do next?"

"Let me just bandage it up. Then it's important that you don't mess with it, touch it, pick at scabs. Keep the bandage on for a few hours and try not to get the tattoo wet." He began to bandage my arm. "Also try to stay out of the sun until it's completely healed. Ice packs do wonders for redness and swelling."

The tattoo didn’t excite me as much as I thought it would, but I liked it. We all sat in silence as he finished his job. I paid for my new body art at the front desk, feeling a little more thrilled about it, and turned to Alistair. "What are you hungry for?"

"Anything," he said. "My treat since it's your birthday. And yes, I insist.”

"When is your birthday?" I said as we walked out the door.

"September 15."

"Hm." I analyzed the slight lines forming around his eyes, so subtle. "You're about twenty one?"

"Twenty two." He almost opened the car door for me, but I beat him to it. We both sat down and he continued, "You're a queer one, huh? Perceptive."

"I take in details other people don't see right away. It's probably my love for mystery novels."

"Man, I think it's been years since I read a novel." He pulled the visor down when I drove out of the parking lot and into the blazing sun. "Music has consumed me like I'm about to consume whatever we eat."

I laughed. "Music? Is that why you were in Nashville?"

He answered back with silence and a slight nod of his head. I didn't want to pry, even though I desperately wanted to.

"You into music?" he asked.

"I am, but probably not the kind you're thinking."

"Yeah? Like...."

"Like Brahms, Sebastian, Haydn, Liszt."

"Fascinating."

"Why?"

"I can't quite figure you out. Wearing a pretty little sundress with pearls hanging from your ears. You just got a tattoo that you wanted to go all the way down your arm and you like classical music. Any other music you like?"

"Not really. A little here and there, but I prefer classical."

"Just peculiar, that's all I can say. Not to mention your obvious aversions to romantic relationships."

I located an empty space a few feet from a local pizza shop and parked.

"I'd take you somewhere nicer," I said. "But it would take longer and I figured you're probably starved already. And, just to drill it into your head, I do not have aversions to romantic relationships. I have precautions. It's different."

"Pizza is great." He ignored my speech, opened his door, and bolted down the city sidewalk to the pizza shop. Hungry guy. He did, however, wait for me while holding the door. I plopped a few coins in the meter and jogged to him.

"You really like the chivalry thing, huh?" I walked through the door and brushed his arm, which felt surprisingly … never mind. I would not be that girl. It felt normal. Like Donovan. That's all I felt. That's all I would feel.

"I was raised to treat others with kindness." He touched my back as I walked through the next set of doors. "My father always told me to be a gentleman to everyone, even other men, regardless of how unfashionable it becomes."

"It has become unfashionable." I peered up at the menu. "And I'd like to know why it's so gentlemanly to open doors for people, but not gentlewomanly? Why can't girls get away with doing that stuff for guys?"

The tasty aroma of fresh rolled dough and melted cheese smacked me in the face. Best smack ever. I hadn’t eaten since my rushed breakfast. When I closed my eyes I could almost taste the salty, crispy fries and warm pizza. His hand warmed my back again as he guided me toward the counter. Was that a shiver crawling down my spine? What the—

"Can I help you?" the cashier said.

"Want to split a cheese?" Alistair said. "And some chips?"