On the desk between you and Charles lies a plastic pouch filled with temporary tattoos—glittery stars, snakes, and psychedelic patterns. You’d picked them up at the mall last week, mostly because Charles had been bugging you nonstop to finally use them.

“PLEAPELEASEPLEASE LET’S USE IT!!!!” he’d texted, the excess of letters and exclamation marks impossible to ignore. Charles has a way of being persistent, almost to the point of being annoying, but there’s something about his energy that’s hard to resist. You’re not usually the type for this kind of thing—temporary tattoos feel a little silly, something you’d expect to see at a fair or a festival. But here you are, peeling off the protective layer of one of the sheets,

The glittery stars sparkles, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a little excited. It’s weird. You’re not the type to get excited over something so trivial but Charles has a way of making even the smallest things feel special. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk, his eyes lighting up as he grabs for the pouch. “Lemme see!! lemme see!!” he says, his voice high-pitched with excitement, grabbing for the pouch before you’ve even had a chance to fully open it. His fingers moving quickly as he examines each one. “Ooh, the one with the snake!! And the stars?! And—oh wait, what’s that one?”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got the perfect one,” he says, holding up a sheet with a shimmering snake coiled around a star. “You first,” thrusting the sheet at you. “Where do you want to put it?”

“where do you even put these?”

“Anywhere!” Charles says, waving his hand dismissively. “Your arm, your hand, your wrist—oh you should put it on your wrist! It would look awesome there.” He leans closer and starts peeling off the protective layer. His fingers brush against your hand as he presses the tattoo onto your wrist.