“You’re sure you want to do this?”

Joslyn gave Orlando an unamused roll of her eyes and yanked her purse up from the counter. Dora was already standing by the door, her stomach knotted up in anticipation. She bounced on her feet and crossed her arms in front of her chest, unsure how Joslyn was so calm about it all when she was about ready to puke.

“Of course I’m sure,” Joslyn insisted. Giordi stood outside the door and yelled at her as she hollered over her shoulder at Grant in the living room, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Joslyn, I was there when you pierced your nose and when you pierced your bellybutton and when you let Orlando dye your hair and when you made Dora dye it back,” Grant returned, stumbling into the kitchen with an empty glass.

Orlando laughed and insisted, “I thought it looked great!”

“I made a terrible blond,” Joslyn insisted, rolling her eyes. “That was just your little fetish.”

“I do not have a blond fetish,” Orlando insisted.

“It doesn’t matter because I wasn’t attracted to you anyways,” she laughed, giving him a firm shove. “Not as a blond or natural. Good bye, Grant. When you see me next, I’ll be a marked woman.” He rolled his eyes at her dramatics, then warned Dora to take care of her.

From outside, Giordi yelled again, “Let’s go!” Orlando grabbed Joslyn’s arm to pull her outside while Dora closed the door behind them. Though their initial plan had been to take the Tube all the way into the city, it was such a beautiful night –in the opinions of three/fourths of the party– that they wound up making the walk. Freezing December rains had them staying mostly in doors, particularly because Joslyn simply was not made for the cold weather. For Christmas, Orlando (with a bit of help both in finances and fashion from Sam) had gotten Joslyn a scarf, a pair of mittens, a hat, and the warmest coat to be found in the country. Maybe then she would venture from the house a bit more. As it was, there was always a fire in Joslyn’s fireplace, their pantry was stocked with an unending supply of hot chocolate, and the race from Joslyn’s back door to Orlando’s was made at the quickest sprint.

“Are you still cold, Jos? It’s beautiful out here,” Giordi insisted, giving her a nudge in the side.

“No, it’s freezing,” she argued, pulling a scarf borrowed from Orlando up over her nose. She hated the condensation that gathered on her lips when she did so, and Orlando teased her that she was getting her bogeys all over his clothes. “You love it,” she returned.

He laughed, “Man, do you ever have me figured out. Nothing turns me on more than a girl getting her snot all over my clothing. Sexy!”

“What ass decided we should be walking in this, anyways?”

“I believe that was the boys,” Dora laughed. “Penny pinchers.”

“How much longer?”

“A lot longer,” Orlando answered with a shake of his head. He wondered if it would mean anything if they all celebrated Christmas early so Joslyn could go ahead and have her coat. But then she would probably stop borrowing his scarves and hats, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted that. Maybe he could give the scarves and hat –and the gloves– to Dora. Then he could continue to be Joslyn’s official handwarmer and she would continue to stomp into his room early in the mornings to borrow his scarves.

Joslyn groaned and wrapped her arm around Orlando’s waist, muttering something about why in the world boys were so much warmer than girls.

“It’s because–“

”I know, Izzy. Girls are baby-making machines so all our warmth is in the uteral region,” Joslyn interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Giordi groaned, “Ugh! Don’t ever say that word around me!”

“Baby? Or uterus?”

“Either!” he laughed, throwing his arm around Dora’s shoulder so that Orlando wasn’t the only one getting some action.

True to Orlando’s words, it was a much longer walk to get to the parlor where Joslyn had gotten both her piercings and Giordi had gotten the giant tribal cross on his left arm. On a Thursday night, business was slow, but still the neon signs cluttering the window beamed out a sleazy welcome to them.

“Jos, aren’t you nervous?”

“Of course not. What’s there to be nervous about? If these two wimps can do it, there shouldn’t be any problem for me,” she insisted, stepping away from Orlando before he could tickle her through the thin material of her coat. There just weren’t winters like this where she came from in Southern California. She hadn’t known what she was getting into, and it was only going to get worse after Christmas. She stepped first through the door and felt the rush of adrenaline that was quickly becoming familiar to her with each trip to this place.

The man behind the counter let out a loud bellow, “Hey, it’s the Yank again! What are you up to, California?”

“Hey, TJ, my man,” she returned slapping him on the shoulder as he came around the counter. He had done both her piercings and Joslyn really felt they were developing a bond through body art, or so she joked with him.

“So which of you wankers is it tonight?” TJ asked, not taking his arm from Joslyn’s shoulder. There was something entirely amusing about the little American chit, and TJ could see with absolute amusement that both Orlando and Giordi recognized it too. “You?” he asked Orlando.

Dora shook her head, “Believe it or not, it’s Jos. You’d never guess by how calm she is, though, huh? I’m the nervous wreck!”

“Oh, it’s you! Well what are we doing tonight? Piercing–“

”No, no, I think I’m all set with the eight holes in my body,” Joslyn laughed. “I’m here to get some ink.”

All three boys laughed at the way she said it, laughed at her, but she didn’t care. She was used to it. The boys were always laughing at her but she had learned to use it to her advantage. Orlando had a good Christmas present for her, she knew from Sam’s hints, and she also knew Giordi would do everything he could to outdo Orlando. Boys were so silly. It hadn’t taken her almost seven months to figure that out.

“All right, what’s it going to be?” TJ asked, stepping behind the counter to accept whatever she tossed his way.

Joslyn gave Dora a smirk; Dora still really believed she was going to back out. But she had gotten the money as a birthday present from her oldest brother specifically for a tattoo –he seemed keen on her doing as much as she could to make herself the black sheep of the family if only to take the attention off of his own recent drug bust and too-short stint in rehab.

“Well I was thinking a frog–“

”A frog!” Orlando interrupted with a groan. “What is it with you and frogs?”

“I like frogs!”

“But they’re so . . . you’re a girl, you need something girly.” Joslyn crossed her arms to listen as he suggested, “You know, a fairy or a butterfly or a flower.”

“I’ve really put thought into this. I don’t want it to be something I’m going to get sick of in two years.”

“But a frog? You’re going to get sick of that.”

“Oh, you know me so well, huh?”

“I am your best friend of all time,” Orlando insisted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I do know all of your deepest, darkest secrets–“

”I don’t have any secrets,” she laughed.

“I know the secrets you don’t even know you have.”

With a roll of her eyes, Joslyn insisted, “You are utterly ridiculous, Landy-O.”

“See, only best friends can say that sort of thing.”

“This is making me sick,” Giordi interrupted with a fake gag. “Why don’t you just get a heart with Orlando’s name in it, all right?”

“God, no. I’d be sick of seeing that name in a week!”

Dora hated tattoo parlors. Everything about them made her nervous. Beefy men donning nude ladies etched onto their skin; total sterilization; and the worst part: all the needles! There was nothing appealing. She should have stayed home with Grant. They could have discussed art history or watched a movie or something. Anything would be better than standing here, listening to the odd couple and Giordi bicker.

“Oh, will you just decide on something already, Jos?” she finally demanded, uncrossing her arms only for a second.

Orlando opened his mouth to start suggesting things he knew had personal value to Joslyn, but she interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

“You know what, Orlando? If you think you know me so well, you pick my tattoo.”

“Yeah?” his eyes widened.

As did Dora’s, who shrieked, “Joslyn!”

“What?”

Giordi started laughing and slamming his hand on the counter as Dora demanded, “You can’t be serious. What are you thinking? You just said it has to be something you aren’t going to get sick of in a few years. You just said you put a lot of thought into this!”

“Well by a lot of thought I meant I finally decided on a frog today, but why not something else?”

“This is a terrible idea!”

“You’re really going to let Orlando decide what’s going to be stamped into your skin for the rest of your life?” Giordi insisted, amused as hell but also positive Joslyn was kidding.

“Of course,” she nodded. Taking Orlando’s hands and holding them in front of her comically, she reminded, “We are best friends forever, right? So you can choose what tattoo I get now and then next time you get a tattoo, I’ll choose it.”

Dora shook her head, “That’s stupid. He could choose something horrible and then just not let you choose his tattoo.”

“Orlando?” Joslyn asked. Orlando had been laughing, shaking his head, because surely Joslyn wasn’t going to really go through with that. This was just another of her jokes; they were always joking about something. And though he might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier when it came to women, he knew a thing or two, and about Joslyn in particular. He knew when she was joking, when she was serious, and when she joking to cover up her seriousness –even if he didn’t always act accordingly. But about getting a tattoo, he knew she was entirely serious about not getting something she would regret. She had been fascinated by his sun tattoo, by the simplicity of it, and wanted to know what had made him choose it. When he admitted it had been for no other reason than that he was suddenly without adult supervision and thought the design was cool, she had bemoaned the fact that in an opportunity to be truly symbolic or sentimental, he had gone for shallow.

“So . . . I choose your tattoo now and then next time I get a tattoo –which may be a while, because, you know, actors aren’t supposed to–“

”It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. You just have to get one eventually to keep up your end of the deal, yeah.”

“And you’ll choose it then. You’re really going to trust me to pick what’s eternally etched on your body, and then to hold up my end of the promise?” he clarified, raising his eyebrow. If so, it was more faith than Orlando had realized she had in him. She was constantly teasing him about his immaturity and naivety. They joked about being best friends, and in some ways they were, but in most ways it was a very shallow friendship. They joked far more than they were serious with each other.

She nodded, “I won’t even check. You can tell TJ and he’ll put it right on my body before I see it. All I ask is that . . . well, no, you pick. It’s just going to go on my neck, though, right here,” she explained, lifting her ponytail and pointing to the back of her neck.

“You’re serious.”

She nodded, then laughed, “Don’t give me that look, Orlando. Really. Tell TJ right now and I’ll go get seated.”

“You–“

”Yes, believe it or not, I do trust you,” she teased. “But choose carefully or you’ll regret it when I choose your tattoo,” she warned. Turning to TJ, she asked, “Where do you want me?”

“You’re crazy, do you know that?” TJ teased, shaking his head. “I see some crazy shit in this place, but never anything as crazy as you, American.”

“Yeah, I get that all the time. Now where?”

While TJ showed Joslyn and Dora over to the table, Orlando thought. Here was his chance to really show Joslyn that he could be a grown up, too. She was putting a lot of faith in him, and he was determined not to let her down. Yes, he was the jokester nextdoor always pranking the girls or taking them out to the coolest clubs or whatever. But he had a serious side, too. He could be considerate and sentimental and all those things girls liked but boys detested to admit they possessed. So what would be the perfect tattoo for her?

Well, she had said she liked the simplicity of his sun tattoo. So only maybe one or two colors. No more than three. And something that would mean something to her . . . something that had to do with the two of them! He wracked his brain, wishing he had more time to plan this out. There had to be something . . . He chewed his thumbnail in thought and paced a small square on the floor.

And then he had it. Just as TJ returned and opened his mouth to ask, Orlando grinned, “I’ve got it, man. See–“ He pulled the pad of paper up from the desk and quickly sketched it out, then explained, “Can you do this, right, and all this is black, except then yellow and orange accents, right? All here and–“

”Yeah, yeah, man, I got it,” TJ nodded, studying the paper. “And this sketch is actually about perfect. You an artist, mate?”

Orlando shrugged, “I dabble. I dabble, mate. Acting, but I thought about going into all that once upon a time, y’know?”

“Right, right. Well let’s make a copy and get this chit inked. Can’t believe she’s trusting you. Christ, if a girl ever trusted me that much– I can’t even get my wife to do that!” While he wandered off to make the copy, Orlando pulled a stool up to sit beside the table Joslyn was stretched out on, Dora and Giordi standing on either side of the table.

“You figure out what I’m getting?” Joslyn asked, and for the first time she had begun to look a bit nervous.

Orlando nodded, “Yeah. Want me to tell you?”

“No, I trust you.”

“I’ll only cry a little bit if you want to back out.”

“I never back out,” she argued, giving him a pointed look. “But you’d better not, either.”

“Of course I won’t.”

TJ came back and asked, “All right, you kids ready?”

“Yes,” Joslyn nodded, making an anxious face. Dora looked about ready to pass out and didn’t object when Giordi pulled a stool over for her to sit on.

“All right, California. Let’s get your hair out of the way,” TJ began. He always narrated everything he did, which Joslyn supposed was his method of keeping his patients or customers or victims or whatever they were calm. He pushed her hair up, but there were still small curly tendrils that wanted to get in the way.

“Shit, I should have brought a little clip,” she muttered, but Orlando reached out and pushed them up, keeping his hand there.

“Good, mate. Hold them back,” TJ nodded.

Orlando laughed, “Just don’t get my hand while you’re at it, huh?”

“S’long as you don’t move her head. Ready, lovey?”

“Yes,” Joslyn insisted. All this build up was making her more nervous than any of the planning had. Not so much about Orlando’s choice for what belonged on her body, and not even about whether or not it would hurt. She just was nervous. Whether he could tell or not, Orlando moved only to put his other hand on hers, and she quickly linked their fingers.

“Oh, God, Jos. I need to hold your hand, too!” Dora insisted, diving to Joslyn’s other side and grabbing her arm. Joslyn couldn’t see her that way, but perhaps that was for the better. Dora was making her nerves worse.

The tattoo itself was an odd experience. As soon as TJ touched the needle to her skin, goosebumps sprang up all along Joslyn’s arm and a chill went down her spine.

“You okay, love?” Orlando asked almost immediately.

“Yeah. . .”

“You just got this look on your face,” he laughed.

“How can you tell? Her face is so scrunched up,” Giordi teased, alluding to the odd head position TJ had her resting in. She wasn’t quite face down, but pretty close.

“It’s not that bad,” Joslyn answered, ignoring Giordi’s teasing. “It just kind of feels like– ooh, I felt that in my skull.”

“Well this is a fast one,” TJ told her. “Shouldn’t take but maybe twenty minutes.”

“What does it feel like?” Dora asked, wanting to hear the rest of her answer.

“Like a pencil is scraping the back of my neck, I guess. Ooh, yeah, that was my bone,” she inhaled sharply.

Orlando knew she was going to joke it off, and he sure didn’t want to seem like the biggest wimp watching her get a tattoo. Giordi’s had been nothing to him, or any of his guy friends’ for that matter. But as much as they joked about it, Joslyn wasn’t one of his guy friends. He actually cared if she was in pain, even if it was optional and would lead to a cool tattoo.

So he started talking to distract her, asking, “Have we decided when we’re going to do our little Christmas party? You leave for America in two weeks?”

“Two and a half.”

“You going home for Christmas?” TJ asked, and Joslyn caught herself just before she nodded. It helped having Orlando’s warm hand on the back of her head.

“Yeah. For a couple weeks. Just long enough to get feeling back in my fingers and toes,” she laughed.

“Shit, I still have to figure out what I’m getting everyone,” Giord joked, though everyone he already had everything planned out. He had been bragging for three weeks now about not waiting until the last minute.

“Oh my gosh, is that blood?” Dora suddenly cried.

Giordi snorted while Orlando suggested, “So, Dora, how about you don’t talk for a while? See, Joslyn, when I got my sun tattoo . . .”

Orlando was only halfway through a very drawn-out recounting of his experience with tattooing when TJ finally sat back and announced, “Done. Let’s get you wiped down and you can see what monstrosity your chum here picked out for you.” Joslyn laughed and waited impatiently as TJ wiped the area clean, then handed her a mirror to use in conjunction with the wall mirror to her left. She practically leapt up, stumbling a bit on her feet from the exhilaration until Orlando steadied her. She gingerly pulled her ponytail up and twisted her head to see.

“It’s a . . .Orlando!” Joslyn gasped. “It’s beautiful.” She grinned, her smile taking on an almost wistful appearance. The design of the butterfly was simple enough, made of whimsically disconnected black lines. Bright yellow and orange shadows and highlighting had been added along the curls in the wings and along the antennae, so that in color it was actually quite similar to Orlando’s sun tattoo.

“Do you like it?” he asked hesitantly, anxious lest he misread her facial expressions. She had taken on a pensive look, more serious than he had expected.

She suddenly smiled again, though, and assured him, “I love it. It looks just like the– I mean, it’s perfect. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it on my own.”

“I told you! I know you better than you know yourself,” he reminded, smirking and playfully kissing his fingers. His touchy-feely personality was something Joslyn had gradually gotten used to, but it still made her smile when he did small gestures like that. They were so contradicting of his normally over-the-top, insanely exuberant antics.

“Let me see!” Dora insisted, craning her neck until Joslyn turned around to let her and Giordi admire it. It meant nothing to them, though, except that it was a pretty design. It was just something between Joslyn and Orlando, and she liked it that way. It had been her hope that he would choose something special to them, special to their odd friendship. He could tell by her smile as she thanked and paid TJ that she loved it. After it was all taped up, they slipped their coats back on, Joslyn wound Orlando’s scarf back around her neck, and they set out into the night.

“So, now that you’re wearing my scarf and bear my mark on your neck, does that mean I own you?” Orlando inquired casually as they strolled along, Joslyn’s arms wrapped around her body against the cold.

She rolled her eyes, “No, I’d say it means I own you. I still get to mark you, which means you’re going to have to be very nice to me for quite some time. . .”

“Shit!” he sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I knew there was fine print I forgot to read!”