Page 6 of Stalked By Raiden

Chapter Two

Elodie

“I still think this is a mistake.”

Sarah laughs beside me as we step off the school grounds and head toward the tattoo shop across the street. “You’ve been saying that since lunch. Do I need to remind you that you agreed to this?” she asks.

I sigh. “I know. But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’ll be fine, Elodie. I promise,” Sarah reassures me.

I tighten my grip on the folded paper in my hand. The matching tattoo design we’d chosen suddenly feels far more intimidating than it had when we were sitting in the teachers’ lounge discussing it weeks ago.

Sarah bumps her shoulder against mine. “Loosen up. We’re celebrating.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Celebrating what? We barely survived our first year of teaching,” I point out.

“Exactly. And we swore we’d do this the second we made it out alive,” she says, stopping to look at the tattoo shop.

I groan softly, earning another laugh from her. Then, I follow her gaze.

The black sign hanging above the brick building reads 4R Ink in bold silver lettering. I’ve walked past it almost every weekday since moving to Atlanta three months ago, but I never paid much attention beyond wondering what the inside looked like.

From the outside, it looks intimidating, with dark windows and black trim. The motorcycle parked beside the curb just makes it more daunting to approach. Nothing about it screams kindergarten teacher.

Sarah grins.

“Too late to chicken out.”

“I’m still considering it.”

Sarah has become one of my closest friends almost by accident. I met her during our student teaching placement. We went our separate ways after the program, and then she called me last spring about an opening at her school. My first year as a teacher was for a quiet district north of the city where every child already had everything they needed. I wasn’t happy and finished the year feeling merely decorative. Instead, I wanted to be somewhere I’d actually be missed if I left. Three months later, here I am.

We have absolutely nothing in common except our jobs.

She is beautiful, outgoing, and endlessly talkative, with bright red hair that always seems to attract attention wherever we go. Meanwhile, I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid attention altogether.

She drags me out of my comfort zone more often than I care to admit. If she hadn’t insisted on celebrating our first year of teaching, I wouldn’t have done anything about it.

The bell above the tattoo shop door chimes as we step inside. Immediately, my nerves start to jitter.

The shop is far nicer than I’d expected. A dark-wood reception desk sits at the front of the lobby, while artwork and framed photographs of tattoos cover the walls. Some of the designs resemble intricate works of art, others look bold and striking.

The space smells faintly of antiseptic and ink, but it looks clean and welcoming rather than intimidating. A comfortable black leather sofa sits beneath one display while shelves hold sketchbooks and small sculptures instead of the skulls and flames I’d imagined.

“Told you,” Sarah whispers.

Before I can respond, a woman speaks from behind the receptionist desk. “You must be Sarah and Elodie.”

My brain freezes for a moment, wondering how she knows our names until I realize Sarah made an appointment for us days ago.

“That’s us,” Sarah says chirpily, smiling wide.

I shake my head, smiling. Sarah has never met a situation she couldn’t find excitement in. The receptionist stands to walk toward us. She is tall and willowy, with chocolate-brown hair, warm brown eyes, pale skin, and full lips. There is something elegant about her, though she wears it casually.

“I’m Nadia,” she says, stopping before us. “Welcome to 4R Ink. I can see you both have your designs with you,” she says, nodding toward my hands, still gripping the paper. “Please, have a seat. I’ll check that they’re ready for you.”

“Thanks, Nadia,” Sarah says while I nod as she leaves the lobby.