Doggy Dating (Correct my autocorrect)

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the Twilight franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

A/N This story was submitted to the Fandom for Mental Health compilation, as a reward for making a donation to one of the organizations that work to help people dealing with mental health issues. Mental health issues will affect everyone at some point in their lives, be it directly or indirectly.

For someone I once considered a friend and valued colleague – unfortunately, circumstances caused us to lose touch for a while – help was too late, as he had hidden his depression extremely well. Therefore, I dedicate this submission to Job; may you have found the peace of mind you so desperately sought.

I hope this light and fluffy story will brighten your mood today. Sandi Layne looked it over for me. The lovely banner (see my blog) was made by TKegl.

"Jazzy, come here boy!" I call out, watching with delight as my puppy rushes to me.

At five months old, he is still a little wobbly on his feet, especially when he is excited. He jumps into my arms, slobbering kisses over my face and neck as I praise him. I have chosen a quieter part of the dog park today, because I want to practice some commands off the leash. He's already pretty obedient, but I don't want him distracted by other dogs right now. So far, so good. We continue with a game of fetch, and I challenge him by asking him to release his ball mid-game.

He is bounding over to me again when a little ball of fur catches my attention. A small dog crashes into me, happily licking my hands when I reach out to her.

"Hey, cutie pie, where did you come from?" I ask, looking around for the owner but not seeing anyone just yet.

Jazzy approaches cautiously, not sure what to make of the intruder. His curly tail is wagging, though, and he carefully sniffs the other puppy. Before long, they are twisting around each other and rolling over the ground, the sounds of their grunts and panting accentuating their play. I take out my phone to capture the moment on video. Watching pugs play together is about as adorable as it gets. I switch to taking a few pictures, admiring the way the afternoon sun plays on Jazzy's fawn coat and the other dog's black one in the luscious green of the park.

After a few minutes there is still no sign of an owner. I call both puppies to me and check the black one's collar. There is a bone-shaped tag stating the dog's name and a phone number.

"Well, Pixie," I say, scratching behind her ears, "let's give them a call, shall we?"

She responds by licking my nose and scampering off to play with Jazzy again. I dial the number. Just when I think the call will go to voicemail, it is answered with a breathless, "Hello?"

"Hi, I think I found your dog…"

"Pixie? She's with you?"

"Yes, she came running over a few minutes ago."

"Where are you?"

I explain my location and give a brief description of myself. Soon, a tall guy with russet hair appears, sinking to his knees in relief when he sees Pixie. He picks her up and cuddles her close, then turns around to address me.

"Thank you so much! She got spooked by a group of bigger dogs and then I couldn't find her."

It takes a while for my brain to connect with my mouth and formulate a response, mesmerized as I am by the man standing in front of me. He is not just tall; he is built, but not in an overly muscular way. Rather, he looks fit and toned, defined in all the right places. He is wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt, tattoos peeking out along the edges. They have me intrigued, curious as to what is hidden beneath. His hair is in casual disarray, highlighted by the sun. His eyes are obscured by a pair of aviator sunglasses. This might be for the best, because I'm not sure I could handle much more at this point. A chiseled jaw covered in a few days' worth of stubble frames a blinding smile; perfectly straight, white teeth, and lips full enough to be lickable yet masculine.

Finally, I manage to shake myself from my stupor, thankful for my own sunglasses to hide my blatant ogling.

"Oh uhm… yeah, no problem," I squeak out, then clear my throat. "She's adorable. How old is she?"

He puts Pixie down and she happily returns to playing with Jazzy.

"Four months. Yours?"

"Jazzy is five months."

He nods and we watch them play for a bit in companionable silence. Eventually he announces that he needs to leave for work, and calls Pixie over to attach a leash to her collar.

"Thanks again, …?"

"Bella," I offer.

"Bella," he repeats with a smile. "I'm Edward."

We smile at each other, both perhaps slightly embarrassed at leaving the introductions until now.

"So yeah, thanks again. I'll see you around, I guess."

With that, he walks away, and I'm left staring at his retreating form until Jazzy demands my attention again. I might sneak a few glances over my shoulder until he vanishes from sight, though.

o.O.o

In the evening I'm catching up with my friend Angela over a few bottles of wine. We met in college and now work in the same bookshop. We don't always work the same shifts, though, so we make it a point to get together outside of work from time to time. She has just finished telling me about the trip she is planning with her boyfriend when my phone chimes with an incoming message. I cannot help my smile as I read it.

Hi. Sorry I had to run earlier. Was running late for an appointment. – Edward

I look up when Angela squeals excitedly.

"What?"

"Who's the guy?"

My blush is instantaneous, so I try to hide it by engaging Jazzy in a game of tug-of-war.

"Come on, Bella, you can tell me. I know that smile."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's the same smile I had when I'd just met Ben. Tell me," she begs, and I know I won't be able to deny her.

I give her a quick recap of the afternoon's events and show her the pictures I took of the puppies. She oohs and aahs in all the right places, and giggles at the dogs' antics in the video.

"You should text him back! Even if it's only to send him the pics of his dog."

I agree, already having made up my mind when I first read his text, and ask her to refill our drinks in the meantime.

No worries. By the way, I took some pics and a vid of our dogs together. I can send them over if you want. – Bella

His reply comes almost immediately, including his e-mail address.

Yes please!

I attach the files and hit send, just as Angela returns with a new bottle of wine and a plate of chocolates.

"So, tell me more about this guy. Is he hot?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!"

I delve into my mental description of earlier, which has Angela applauding me for "scoring his number". I gently remind her that it was on his puppy's tag, but she waves off my argument.

"Sure, you would've called anyway to reunite puppy and owner, but how convenient is it that said owner is, in your own words, hotter than a supernova in the fires of inferno," she points out, laughing.

We may have polished off that new bottle during my description of Edward. Either way, I'm in hysterics too. When my phone chimes with another text, I knock it to the floor in my attempt to grab it off the table. Giggling, I reach for it while trying to remain on the couch. Angela ends up holding on to my jeans to prevent me from face-planting into the rug. She hands me my refilled wineglass and I take a big gulp – we're past the point of sipping now – as I read the latest text.

Cute pics and vid :) Not sure what you meant with your last text…

Confused, I scroll up, only to groan in embarrassment. Angela takes notice and grabs the phone from me, eager to read what has me so worked up.

"I nailed you? Are you serious, Bella?"

"It's the stupid autocorrect," I grumble, taking the phone back.

Typing out a response may take me several tries due to my inebriated state, but I finally manage to save face. Hopefully.

Sorry, that was meant to say I e-mailed you. Which you obviously received. I'll go drown my sorrow over that fail now. Bye.

I put the phone down again, resigned never to hear from Edward again after that.

o.O.o

The next morning I wake up groggy and thirsty, unsure of what actually woke me up. After switching on the lamp on my bedside table, I rule out Jazzy as the cause, because he looks up at me sleepily from his bed. I then notice the light on my phone blinking, signaling a message. The vibration must have woken me. I pick up the phone, then lift Jazzy onto the bed. He settles into the crook of my arm and continues snoring. After placing a kiss to his soft fur and breathing in his puppy scent, I pull up my messages to see several new ones from Edward.

Don't worry about it. I text the most embarrassing stuff sometimes ;) – Edward

Hm… no response. I guess you were serious about drowning your sorrow…

Good morning shit stain! Hope the hangover isn't too bad – Edward

Shit! That was meant to say sunshine…

See what I mean about embarrassing?

I smile at the messages and his thoughtfulness, and quickly type out a response.

Lol, glad to see I'm not the only one affected. Hangover isn't too bad, just in need of coffee. – Bella

Getting up, I pull on some sweats and sneakers. Jazzy is still a little scared to jump off the bed, so I lift him down to the floor. I let him out onto the balcony, where I have sectioned off a little area for him to do his business. When I get back inside there is a new message on my phone.

Could I treat you to breakfast? It's the least I can do to thank you for your help yesterday. – Edward

Taking Angela's advice to heart, I am quick to reply. Immediately, I curse autocorrect and my quick fingers.

You bitch!

Sorry, I meant to say 'you betcha!' – Bella

Thankfully, his reply doesn't take long, and I'm glad to see he has a sense of humor.

Again, no worries. Happens to me all the time. Anyway, shall we meet at the dog park?

I don't recall any food stands there…

I'll bring a picnic. Not much of a cook, but I make a mean penis butter and jelly sandwich.

PEANUT! Why does this keep happening? – Edward

I can't help but laugh and decide to tease him a bit.

Well, just make sure the cocks are not shaken. I'd hate for jizz to blow up in my face…

I wonder how he'll take this. Would he consider it too forward? Then again, I didn't get the impression he'd be that easily offended. He doesn't keep me waiting long, and also doesn't disappoint.

Fine, I won't shake my cock before giving it to you. Should I also bring some juicy assholes?

Looks like it'll be an interesting picnic. Meet you in an hour? I need to shower first. – Bella

He confirms and I settle Jazzy in the kitchen with some kibble.

o.O.o

I hurry through my shower while I think of what to wear. Now, I'm not this typical girly girl who only busies herself with clothes and makeup. Far from it, actually. But I sort of want to look cute for this breakfast thing with Edward. Just not like I put a lot of effort into it. I mentally go through my closet as I blow-dry my hair and put it in a loose bun. Eventually I settle on some jeans shorts, Converse and my Nirvana cut-out shirt. It doesn't hurt that the shirt shows off the one tattoo I have – a peacock feather running along my collar bone to my shoulder. Going light on make up, I stick with a little bit of black kohl around my eyes and lots of mascara. Satisfied with the result, I take out Jazzy's harness and set out for the dog park. On the way over, I release my hair from its bun, allowing it to fall around my face in soft waves.

"You weren't kidding when you promised me a picnic," I say as I approach Edward.

He has spread out a blanket and is unpacking a small backpack. Pixie is crawling all over the place, sniffing at everything. She looks up at the sound of my voice and runs over excitedly. I kneel down to greet her and am glad to see Jazzy approaching her with gentle confidence. Edward looks up as well, and I suck in a breath. It was definitely a good thing he was wearing sunglasses the day before. Those eyes… mesmerizing. They're a bright shade of green, and sparkle even without the light of the sun hitting them. They crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

"Bella, hey," he greets me, and motions for me to sit down.

I release Jazzy from his leash, leaving on his harness, so he can play freely, and get comfortable on the blanket. I'm glad I opted for something casual to wear, since Edward is dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing more of his tattoos.

He hands me a small package, wrapped in a napkin, and I open it to reveal the PB&J sandwich he boasted about the night before. Taking a bite proves that he wasn't exaggerating and I cannot contain a soft moan of appreciation. I notice Edward shifting on the blanket next to me. Before I can ask if he's okay, he pulls out a few small bowls. He fills the largest one with water from a bottle, and the other two with some kibble and treats, setting the bowls on the edge of the blanket. Pixie bounces over immediately, with Jazzy hot on her tail.

While enjoying our sandwiches and fizz-free Cokes we compare notes on raising our pugs and share tips on fun things to do with them in the area. Next, he asks me about my job, so I tell him about my degree in English Literature and working in the bookshop. As it turns out, we have a similar taste in books, although where I occasionally indulge in a romance novel, Edward's guilty pleasure is comic books.

"So what is it that you do?" I ask him.

"I own a tattoo shop with my best friend."

"That's pretty cool. How did that happen?"

"Well, when I was in college I didn't really know what I wanted to do yet, but I spent a lot of time at a tattoo shop, just hanging out, and getting tattooed whenever I had some money to spare. One day I brought my own design and the owner, Garrett, was impressed. He offered me a job as his apprentice and did the piece for free. I introduced him to Emmett, and he was brought on board as well. Then a couple of years later, Garrett was moving back to New Orleans and sold the shop to us."

His smile is infectious. It's clear that he's proud of his accomplishments, and I compliment him on them.

"Did you end up finishing college?"

"Yeah, I got a degree in Business Management with a minor in Art, which helped us in securing the loan and stuff. But for day-to-day business we have Rose. She's Em's fiancée and manages our schedules and finances."

"It sounds like you really love your job."

"I do," he confirms, still grinning broadly. "Rose also looks after Pixie if I have an appointment running late, which is a great help."

"I can imagine. So did you design your tattoos yourself?"

"The first few are completely Garrett's work, basically the full left sleeve."

He takes off his shirt, leaving him in a white tank, and twists his arm so I can see the skulls, roses and stars. They're mostly in black and grey, with a few splashes of red and green in the flowers. He then turns slightly, pointing to his right arm.

"This dragon is the design that landed me the apprenticeship. Garrett tweaked it a little to fit my arm better, but the design and color are all mine," he explains proudly.

And rightfully so; the tattoo is beautiful. I reach out to touch it, intrigued by the clean lines and vibrant colors, then pull back as I realize what I'm about to do. He smiles at me encouragingly.

"It's okay, you can touch it."

When my fingers make contact with his skin, I suddenly become very aware of our proximity. I can feel his heart beat strongly as my fingers trace the tattoo. His bicep flexes seemingly involuntarily, and I can see and hear his breathing become more labored. I feel his eyes focused on my face, but keep mine fixed on my fingers on his tattoo, knowing I'll lose control if I don't. Suddenly, I feel his touch on my skin.

"This is a great tattoo," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the peacock feather running along my collar bone to my shoulder.

I shiver and chance a look at his face. He intently studies the tattoo.

"Where did you get it?"

"There's a tattoo shop at the Quileute reservation near where I grew up. I got it for myself as a graduation present after college," I explain.

My voice has taken on a somewhat breathy quality. I wonder if he realizes what his presence does to me. I see his throat move as he swallows.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing back and forth still along my feather.

Suddenly I feel his fingers moving further up my shoulder, to my jaw, my neck, before he gently turns my head and presses his lips to mine.

o.O.o

You know what I think would look absolutely stunning on you?

I smile down at my phone. Edward has a tendency to get straight to the point, as though we are in the middle of a conversation.

Stunning? Now I'm curious…

After our relaxed morning, which lasted well past lunch, we parted ways, with Edward having a client that afternoon. We have been texting ever since, about a wide variety of topics. So far, I have been able to ignore my urge to Google him, or look up his tattoo shop and "drop by". But I'm itching to see him again. Kiss him again. Our kiss in the park was sweet but brief, interrupted by excited puppies jumping in our laps.

My phone chimes again.

A Chlamydia tattoo.

I do a double take at that.

Excuse me?!

Shit! That was meant to say Claddagh!

A laugh bubbles up out of me, causing Angela to look at me funnily.

"Edward's texting me," I explain, to which she smiles knowingly.

I take it your autocorrect has been humping you again?

…I mean helping? Damn, looks like you're rubbing off on me…

I wouldn't mind something else of his rubbing off on me either.

Yeah, it's been licking my ass lately. You should see the texts I've been getting from Em about redecorating his and Rose's apartment. They're getting some fucked up colors on their walls!

Lol! I can imagine you becoming fisted by that.

I'm interrupted from our text conversation by a customer looking for a particular edition of War and Peace, so it takes me a few minutes to correct my last message. By the time I pick up my phone again, there is another one from Edward waiting.

?

FRUSTRATED! Anyway, what were you saying about that Claddagh tattoo?

It'd look amazing on your sternum.

Admit it; you just want me topless in your chair ;)

That too. You've got a stellar body. Please let me decorate it some more.

Only if I get to see more of yours. The peek I got in the dog park has got me curious.

Admit it; you just want me to take my shirt off so you can ogle my chest. :p

o.O.o

Edward is persistent in getting me to his tattoo studio, and within a week he picks me up from my apartment. I am just getting Jazzy into his harness when he texts me.

I'm parked outside. Silver vulva.

I can't help but snicker as I glance out the window and see him scowling at his phone in a Volvo parked across the street. Picking up Jazzy, I hurry down the stairs and meet Edward at his car. He actually gets out and opens the passenger side door for me in an unexpected gentlemanly gesture.

"Hey, Jazzy," he says, scratching behind my puppy's ear, "you're coming with us today, buddy? Pixie's gonna have a blast."

He closes the door once I'm seated and walks around to the driver's side. About ten minutes and some small talk later, we pull up to a storefront reading GEE Designs.

"I thought we were going to your place?" I ask, slightly confused.

"We are," he replies. "I live in the apartment above the shop. Come on, I'll show you."

He takes me through a door on the other side of the shop entrance and we climb the stairs to a small landing. As soon as he opens the apartment door, Pixie comes rushing towards us, twisting around Edward's legs and wagging her curly tail. Once she's greeted her daddy, she notices Jazzy at my feet and grunts at him happily. They then scramble into the apartment, Jazzy chasing his new friend who leads him straight to her water bowl and toys.

"Seeing as my dog is already being a good host, I guess I should follow suit," Edward jokes. "How about a grand tour of the place?"

"Sure," I agree.

He turns around slowly, his arms extended.

"Well, this is pretty much it. Decent-sized living room with all the necessities. Don't mind the mess; I always have some sketchpads lying around in case inspiration strikes. Kitchen is through here," he points, guiding me in the same direction. "Can I get you a drink? Soda, coffee, water?"

I decide on a Coke and we move back into the living room, settling on the couch.

"So, no bathroom or bedroom in this place?" I joke.

"Woman, you are cruel!" he exclaims, clutching a hand to his chest. "Here I am, trying to be a gentleman, and all you want is to explore my bedroom and get me naked!"

My blush is involuntary, and I try in vain to backpedal on my previous joke. He laughs and puts me out of my misery.

"B, relax," he says with a laugh. "I'm just messing with you."

He takes a sip of his drink as I settle down, smiling nervously. To be honest, I have thought of peeling away some of his layers. Seeing his personal space allows me a small glimpse, whereas his tattoos are quite a bit more revealing. It doesn't hurt that he would have to shed some clothing in order for me to investigate.

"Truth be told," he continues, "I'm not sure if I can control myself if I show you my bedroom right now."

And welcome back, nerves. I clear my throat and look around the living room, trying to find a suitable change of topic. My eyes land on some framed art on the opposite wall.

"Yours?" I ask, motioning towards it.

"Yes," he says, perking up and not-so-subtly adjusting himself. "They're some of my more elaborate designs."

I recognize one of them as the dragon covering his arm. He notices me making the connection and confirms it.

"And the other two?"

"The middle one is on my back, and the one on the right is on my ribcage. Emmett did them for me. Aside from Garrett, he's the only one I trust to do my designs justice."

Having him talk about his art is a huge turn-on and I'm even more curious. I decide to be bold and just go ahead and ask.

"Can I see?"

He doesn't respond verbally, but, without hesitation, whips off his t-shirt and tosses it over the arm of the couch. He turns around so I can see the tattoo on his back. It quite literally takes my breath away. His entire back is covered in a black and grey rendition of a broken angel. The wings extend over his shoulder blades, pointing down towards his spine, folding over a hunched figure. While the framed design on the wall is beautiful in its own right, it truly comes to life on his skin, the rippling of his muscles adding movement to the wings. I can't resist lightly tracing the lines of the wings. His skin breaks out in goose bumps and he shivers. I try to resist the urge to lean in and kiss his skin. That might be just a bit too forward.

He looks at me over his shoulder, his body turning slightly back around. Meeting his eyes, I notice that his pupils are dilated, the green of his irises becoming even more vivid. Still not trusting my self-control, I shift my gaze back to his skin, noticing the Buddha and lotus tattoo on his ribcage next. The illusion of stone from which the statue appears to be carved is so realistic, I can almost feel its texture under my fingertips. They dance over his ribs, causing his abs to flex. I spread my hands out across his abs, feeling the ridges and the fine line of hair leading down. Moving my hands up slowly, I reach his chest and more tattoos. On the left is the profile of a roaring lion.

"My family's crest has a lion in it," he explains as I trace its outline.

His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, and I feel his heart pound under my right palm. There is a text there in beautiful script.

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires," I read out loud.

"It's Shakespeare," he explains.

"Macbeth," I finish. "I know."

Just under the lion and quote are two surgical steel barbells piercing both his nipples. My fingers are drawn to them, curious as to what they'll feel like. He hisses when I flick them and looks at me with smoldering eyes.

"Shit, baby girl, that's…" he moans, trailing off.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, though I have a sneaking suspicion that the opposite is true.

"Not at all," he says, confirming my assumption. "Having them pierced makes them much more sensitive. Add to that the fact that it's you touching me, and I need to be careful not to blow my load and embarrass myself."

My blush heats up my face, but I also smile rather smugly. It is quite empowering to be told that he is turned on by little old me.

Looking up at him, I'm started to realize I've leaned in even closer during my examination. There is a fire in his eyes which can no longer be denied. He catches me by surprise when he captures my lips in an urgent kiss. It takes me a moment or two to react, and by the time I do, he pulls back. He opens his mouth, possibly to apologize, but I don't give him the chance. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pull him back in and kiss him again. His hands slide around my waist and he lifts me onto his lap. We move against each other, our hands exploring and our tongues mingling. His moan shoots straight through me, igniting a primal hunger. His body surrounds me almost completely. He is warm and hard in all the right places, and I relish the knowledge that I affect him this way when I move my hips in his lap.

o.O.o

Just when he reaches to remove my shirt, Jazzy and Pixie start barking very close to us.

"They're probably wondering why we're attacking each other," Edward says, laughing.

I'm only slightly embarrassed, as it must indeed be a strange sight to the puppies.

"Let's go down to the shop, seeing as that is why I invited you over in the first place," he suggests.

I reluctantly extricate myself from his embrace and watch him pull his shirt back on. He notices my pout and winks at me reassuringly.

"Don't worry; I have every intention of revisiting what we just started."

We give the puppies a snack to nibble on and head down the stairs.

"How did you come up with the name for the shop?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's a bit odd, isn't it?" he replies, grinning. "It was originally called Gaz Designs, referring to Garrett. When Emmett and I bought the shop, we wanted to update the name, but still keep the reference. So we added our initials. Emmett insists the first E is him."

At this point we are entering the shop, so Emmett overhears the last part, and chimes in.

"Of course it is. I'm the older one!"

I can't help but laugh at the reasoning.

"You must be Bella," he continues more seriously. "Eddie here has been talking our ears off about you. It's great to finally meet you. Rose!" he then bellows," Come meet Bella!"

A leggy blonde with victory rolls emerges from an office in the back. Her 1950s style black polka dot swing dress accentuates the colorful sleeve on her left arm. Her statuesque beauty and icy blue eyes would be intimidating if it weren't for the warm smile on her cherry red lips. She envelopes me in a hug as she greets me.

"I was just about to go get lunch. Can I get you guys anything as well?"

Since I'm not familiar with the particular deli they frequent, Edward orders a sandwich for me.

While we wait for Rose to return with the food, Edward shows me his portfolio. I'm impressed with the quality of the work, though I shouldn't be, based on what I've seen so far. While he employs a variety of styles, it's clear that he prefers black and grey realism and illustrative style.

"What's the last tattoo you got?" I inquire.

He rolls up the leg of his jeans and twists his leg around to show his calf. On it is a paw print with a date underneath and Pixie's name through it.

"Oh, that's so cute!" I exclaim.

Emmett walks over from his station.

"That was a fun one to do. We actually made a print of one of Pixie's paws for it."

"When she's a bit bigger I'll add a portrait as well. The date is her birthday," Edward adds.

"You've got a pug too, right?" Emmett asks, to which I nod.

"Jazzy's upstairs playing with Pixie."

"Dude! Wouldn't it be cool if they had puppies together when they're grown up?" Emmett asks, turning to Edward excitedly.

"Em, they're just babies. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he cautions. "How about you and Rose get to making babies first?"

"Not before he makes an honest woman out of me," Rose teases as she walks back in with two bags of food.

We dig into our lunch, and I revel in the feeling of home and ease I get while sitting with these people I only just met. Edward and I share stories about Jazzy and Pixie, leaving Emmett and Rose in stitches at their antics.

"Seems like you're dating thanks to your dogs," Rose comments in between bouts of laughter.

"I guess it's a good thing Bella was there when Pixie got scared, then," Edward concludes, smiling at me softly.

I can't help my blush while our gazes lock.

o.O.o

While we're cleaning up after lunch, Emmett's next client arrives. Rose busies herself with some paperwork as Edward and I move over to his work station. The walls around it are filled with designs and the supplies are neatly arranged on the work bench. I smile when I see a drawing of what is obviously Pixie among the artwork on the walls.

"All right, show me what you have in mind," I tell him, curious now as to the tattoo he's been tempting me with.

He pulls out a sketchpad and sets to working out his ideas, explaining them to me as he draws.

"Okay, so the Claddagh consists of a crowned heart being held by two hands. It represents love, loyalty and friendship. What I'm thinking is to place the hands over your ribcage, with the heart over your sternum. The crown would then extend upwards through the middle. For you, I'd add some intricate embellishments, nothing too bold. I think delicate would work better on you. This particular design, I'd prefer to keep it black and grey, because it might be too overpowering otherwise. What do you think?"

With that, he turns the sketchpad around and shows me the first draft. It floors me. While it is still very much a rough sketch, I can see his ideas taking shape. I agree that adding color or bold embellishments would overpower the design. Also, considering my smaller frame, I wouldn't want the tattoo to dominate me.

"Wow, Edward," I reply. "It's gorgeous!"

"Does that mean you'll let me put this on you?" he asks hopefully.

"Yes!" I answer without hesitation.

His smile matches my own.

"That's great! I'll work out the design some more and we can look at a suitable date."

I nod, knowing that I don't want to be on my period when getting inked. Then another thought hits me.

"How much would that tattoo cost?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Seriously, Edward. I need to know the amount to set aside."

"No, you don't. It's a present. I want to give you this tattoo."

I gape at him. A tattoo of that size and detail would easily cost several hundred dollars. He's got to be joking about just giving it to me.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. There are no rules that say a tattoo artist can't give his girlfriend a tattoo."

Mulling that over for a moment, I realize he is right. If he weren't a tattoo artist, he would still be able to pay for a tattoo for me as a gift. The bonus here is that he will also be the one putting it on my skin. Then the last part of his statement registers.

"Wait… girlfriend?"

Suddenly he looks shy, and he actually blushes.

"Uhm… well… yeah…" he stammers.

"Don't be silly," I say, giggling. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend."

In response he pulls me onto his lap and kisses me soundly.

"You had me worried there for a moment," he admits. Then, eagerly again, "So you'll let me give you the sternum piece?"

I nod, conceding. He'll probably need some pictures of it for his portfolio, so I figure I can help him out in that regard.

"I would like that tattoo for Jazzy now, though," I tell him. "And I'm paying for that one myself!"

He readily agrees and flips the sketchpad over to a blank page. After discussing placement and what to include, he comes up with a simple but beautiful design. Jazzy's name is placed on the outside of my wrist in elegant script, running along the bone, with two small paw prints beside it.

As soon as the needle touches my skin, I know I'm hooked. To this new group of people. To getting tattooed by Edward. And to him and the doggy dates with our pugs.