[ The calling card that Stacy presents her with is the girliest shit she's ever seen - seriously, there's nail polish on it - but in the cutest possible way, really and she doesn't question why a Glitter sales girl even has a calling card in the first place, because who cares, they're exchanging numbers and everything's good, everything's fine. Tempering her smile into something at least halfway hard and edgy, Alexa waits for the bag to be fully loaded, then she reaches for the black pen lying next to all the pink paper, picking it up before carefully leaning in to grab hold of the other girl's arm, pinning it gently to the tabletop as she writes her number across the faint lines of veins and the palpable beating of her pulse point. Her phone number is a lucky one, simple, full of 5s and it takes her only, like, two seconds to finish tattooing it onto Stacy's skin. Her creamy, soft skin.
Well. Okay. Shit.
Alexa straightens up, putting the pen back in its place and adopts a self-satisfied expression that hopefully masks how she feels a bit like running now. Away. This is intense, for fuck's sake. This holds potential to hurt. Swallowing something thick in her throat, she cocks her head and looks from her phone number in black on Stacy's lower arm to Stacy's face. Text me before you wash it off, she kinda wants to say, but doesn't. ]
I like funny texts, so shoot me one of those, yeah?
no subject
Well. Okay. Shit.
Alexa straightens up, putting the pen back in its place and adopts a self-satisfied expression that hopefully masks how she feels a bit like running now. Away. This is intense, for fuck's sake. This holds potential to hurt. Swallowing something thick in her throat, she cocks her head and looks from her phone number in black on Stacy's lower arm to Stacy's face. Text me before you wash it off, she kinda wants to say, but doesn't. ]
I like funny texts, so shoot me one of those, yeah?
[ She says instead. Like, what. Facepalm. ]