Define bliss.  

For me, it's simple. Waking up with my face resting on Finn's chest, while his arm wraps around me and our legs pretzel together in an unbreakable link. My hand twitches but I think better than to move it because I don't want to wake him.  

His chest rises and falls in a shallow and steady rhythm and part of me wants to allow it to lull me back to sleep but instead, I start to examine the tattoo inked into his skin. It's all black and white and shades of grey. It's staff paper that looks like it's been torn into ribbons that twist and turn around his full arm. It's filled with music notes, time signatures and measures. I write lyrics, not music, but I recall enough from forced piano lessons in grade school and what little knowledge I sponged from Finn to decipher them.  

It's our song. The very first song Finn and I ever wrote together. A piece called Take Me.  

I get to the chorus of the song and realize I'm running the tip of my finger along the tattooed staff paper as I go. Finn's eyes are open. I don't know how long they've been this way.  

"Take Me?" I say, instead of good morning.  

His eyes are heavy, lidded, and so remarkably blue but he smiles and flips over so he rests on top of me. "Well okay, I'd prefer if you said please, but I can't deny you simple pleasures so-- if you insist."  

"Wow. Slick," I say, pushing him away. "Seriously? You got Take Me inked on you?"  

He lets out a defeated sigh even though I know he's clearly impressed with his wit this early in the morning. "What can I say, Laney? I needed something to hold on to so yes, I seriously got Take Me tattooed on my skin."  

I don't speak but continue to run my finger along the black, curvy lines, Finn closes his eyes briefly in response to my touch. His voice drops lower. "You don't like it?" 

"No," I say. "I mean, I really like it. I'm kind of jealous, actually."  

"Why?"  

"Well I dunno. I always wanted a tattoo but I never had the guts to get one."  

Finn opens his eyes back up and arches a brow. "You? A tattoo?"  

"Yes, me. Is that so hard to believe?"  

"Do you really want me to answer that?"  

"Depends. Is your answer going to be, 'no Delany, it's not hard to believe because you're positively fearless?'"  

"No," he says. "No. My answer won't be that at all. But you are positively adorable when you crinkle your nose like that."  

"I'm not adorable," I argue. "I'm fearless."  

Something sparks inside his eyes, I feel like watching his facial expression this close is like a front row ticket to wheels turning cogs, spinning into ideas inside his brain. "Prove it then hot shot," he says.  

"Huh?"  

"Prove it. Get a tattoo."  

"What? Me?"  

"No, the other fearless girl inside my bed," he jokes. "Yes. Of course, you."  

"I don't know."  

"C'mon."  

"I'm not sure."  

"I'm gonna do it," he says.  

"Do what?"  

"Da-" 

"Finn," I say, pointing a finger. "Don't say it!"  

"I'm gonna," he threatens.  

"Don't," I say again.  

"I dar-"  

I slap my hand to cover his mouth but his tongue slides out and licks my palm. I scream and as I'm wiping my palm across his chest in a panic, making all kinds of disgusted noises at him, he shouts. "I dare you."  

I simply cannot refuse a dare.  

It's not in my nature. 

***  

Four hours later, I'm sitting at a tattoo shop in god-knows-where, Arkansas, ankle exposed for Axel, 'cause that's not stereotypical at all, yes, Axel, to apply a stencil of a small microphone, my own tribute to Finn.  

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I say.  

Finn's grinning. "I can. Never have I ever seen my pretty girl refuse a dare."  

"I feel like I'm on an Aztec alter. Like I'm your sacrifice to appease the gods of music."  

His shoulders rise in a chuckle. "We established that Elvis is the god of music before we left on this road trip," he says. "Elvis didn't do sacrifices. Trust me, he doesn't want to see you suffer. He only wants to love you tender."  

I roll my eyes. "Could you be any cheesier?"  

"Could you be any more of a princess? It's just a tattoo!"  

"Here," Axel says and hands me a stress ball. "In case you need to squeeze something."  

Wait. What? "No thanks," I say bravely. I take Finn's hand in mine and squeeze all five of his fingers together as hard as I can. His eyes nearly pop out of his head in response. "I've got something to squeeze right here."  

Getting tattooed isn't half as bad as I thought it would be. But if anyone tells you it doesn't hurt, I will tell you this: they're lying. It hurts. A lot. Imagine the tip of an extra sharp pencil being dragged across your skin back and forth, back and forth on the same sensitive spot for an indefinite amount of time. Amply that feeling. 

When Axel finishes, I bend my leg up to see his work. I'm impressed. I have an old fashioned microphone. The shading is so rich with detail, it almost looks three dimensional. On the outward side of the mic are the letters UF. I figure "Until Forever" is a safer bet than FE for "Finn Ellis."  

I think Finn agrees because he kisses it and says, "I love this."  

We pay Axel, and by we I mean Finn, and then head out. I insist on buying our early dinner and much to my delight, Finn doesn't argue. Within the next hour, I'm bandaged, I have a full belly and we're on our way to Oklahoma because Finn has insisted he doesn't need to sleep just yet but I can't stop yawning.  

I peel back the gauze and admire the shiny surface of my skin.  

"Like it?" he asks.  

"Yes. I do."  

"Good," he says, "I'm glad. No regrets?"  

How could I regret anything at this point? "None."  

"Then my world is exactly as it should be," Finn says. "Why don't you try to lay down? Sleep a while. I'll pull over if I get too tired before I get us to a hotel."  

"Promise?"  

"Swear," he says.  

I lean my head on Finn's shoulder and close my eyes. "Finn?"  

"Yeah?"  

"Everything in my world is exactly as it should be."  

"Music to my ears, pretty girl."