I opened my laptop, but everything Weeman said went in one ear and out the other. All my focus was centered on Ren. How could anyone be so fucking hot? I didn’t think it was possible. Clearly, I was wrong. I grinned. Fuck. If anyone could get me out of my sex drought, it was him. All he had to do was smile again, and I’d bend over and say, “Yes please, sir. Hole for your pleasure right here.”
I snorted.
“Man, Weeman’s watching you. Concentrate.” Ozzie’s words dragged me out of my fantasies.
It wasn’t until near the end of class that my phone buzzed and I checked it.
Unknown Number
Hey. This is Ren. How does Wednesday morning sound? Name a time. Drinks on me.
I didn’t hesitate, Weeman’s glare be damned.
KC
I’d love to. I have a class at 11, though. Want to meet up at Fitness Yums at 9?
I added his name into my contacts and laughed at the nickname I’d given him. My phone buzzed again before I could switch off the screen.
Inked God Ren
See you then ;)
Butterflies—or maybe vampire bats—ravaged my stomach, making me shift excitedly in my seat. My dick twitched at the thought of having Ren’s mouth on mine.
I had a date.
A fucking date.
Was this a date?
It had to be. I was going to be optimistic about this. Nothing could bring me down.
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from cheering and resisted the urge to text Pa to tell him. Pa was too overprotective. But Barber? He was the type who’d listen and give me high-fives without spiraling into lectures about safe sex and reminding me about my shattered heart in a warning to take it slow. I’d go to his shop this afternoon and gloat about my hot date. I needed to tellsomeone.
3
OLIVER “OLI” HAYES
“Who does he think he is? Who on earth does that—”Asshole.“—jerk think he is? Why would someone open a tattoo parlor next to one that is already popular? Doesn’t he realize he might hurt business for PD?” I slouched in the leather seat of my Subaru and sped down the street toward PD’s house. I didn’t realize until I had to shift to a higher gear that I was going way too fast for the neighborhood. I took a deep breath and slowed the hell down.
One thing I absolutely couldn’t afford right now was a speeding ticket. I’d been working less because the fall semester at NGU had started again.
I’d been so steamed about that jerk, Ren, I’d barely slept last night.
This should’ve been a perfect day. The sun was shining. It was hot but not humid. Only a few puffy white clouds were sweet wisps in the sky. These were the early fall days they made songs and movies about, so it was total BS that some hot guy with a million tattoos had to go and ruin it.
“Ren. Who names someoneRenanyway? Is he a hero from a fantasy novel?” I snorted. “Oh, Ren, save me! No, that’s dumb and he’s dumb. Ugh.” Part of me felt guilty, though, because his business card was burning a hole in my pocket. I slapped my hand on the steering wheel. For a brief second, I’d beenthrilledsomeone had wanted to see my artwork.
Okay, perhaps five seconds.
It made me feel like a slimy traitor to have experienced the zing of excitement in the first place.
My elation had nothing to do with the fact that any sane human would want to trace the tattoos decorating his body with their tongue. Really, it didn’t. It was all about having my art acknowledged.
I was loyal to PD. I really was!
But, shit, PD wouldn’t give me the time of day.
