I forced my spine to straighten and raised my chin. “I’m good, Coach. I swear.”
Hell would’ve been a better feeling than how I felt, but I wasn’t going to back down. Practice was as important as the games. I refused to let Hudson hold anything over me.
I closed my eyes and thought about Ren and Oli and the amazing time we’d been having with each other. They sparked happiness in me that I hadn’t thought I’d get to experience anytime soon. Not since I had my heart ripped out by my high school sweetheart, who refused to think of me as anything but a fuck. He didn’t want to come out of the closet, and by that point, I knew him well. He never would’ve.
So, I hadn’t expected to find a serious relationship until I was out of college, but now I had two guys. How lucky could I get?
Swallowing around the desert in my mouth, I rolled my shoulders back and ignored the nausea that tumbled in my stomach. My heart raced.Thump thump thump thump.So fast.
“I’m fine,” I said, earning a sharp glance from Coach Nairn. I forced a smile onto my face. “Really. I am. I can do the drills.” I stepped forward, but the ground disappeared beneath my feet and I crashed hard.
The world went dark.
20
OLI
The last client of the day had left an hour ago and the autoclaves were humming in the back room. I focused intently on the piece of fake pale skin I’d stretched onto a wooden needlepoint frame.
“Don’t just look at it. Practice.” Ren shook his head from across the room behind the circular wooden desk near the door. The silver hoop that sat snug against his left nostril glinted.
“Yeah, yeah.”
The new tattoo parlor was amazing and I was a fraud sitting here. Ren and his buddies, Wylie and Flint, had been able to convert the space faster than I ever would’ve imagined. Instead of a vermin-infested nightmare, it was a brand-new clean client area. The brick walls were matte black, but Wylie had started paintingRevenge Tattooon a spot near the door in bloody red letters that looked like they were going to actually spill drops onto the floor. Below was the chalk outline of crossed swords that reminded me of a pirate flag.
I didn’t hate the theme. It was fun, and I could sort of see Ren as a pirate. He would look sexy in one of those flouncy shirtswith his tattoos peeking through. Plus, he had no trouble being mean, which was a prerequisite for pirating.
Couches lined the wall to my right. In the middle of the main floor were four chairs and tattooing equipment—one for Ren and each of his business partners. Then, there was the one I was parked at.
“But what should I tattoo?”
He sighed, which made my stomach swoop unpleasantly. “Anything you want.”
“Fine.” I decided to start small. Ren had shown me how to use the tattoo gun “the right way” earlier—his words—so I began the black outline of a rose.
“Use a light touch. Too much pressure and?—”
My needles punctured the stretched fake skin, and Ren howled with laughter. It was fucking annoying and reminded me of the way Barber had cackled at me when I’d tried to cut my own hair at his shop. He’d ended up needing to buzz it off so I could let it all grow in at the same length.
A pang of nostalgia had me sniffling.
I glared at Ren, but he kept going until he snorted. While he was winding down, I replaced my practice canvas and started again.
“Keep in mind, real bodies have curves and angles. You should wrap that around a weird piece of wood.”
“Thank you for your input,” I murmured icily, and he was howling again like an asshole.
He came over and threw his arms around me, still chuckling, and the funniest thing happened. I was irritated, but my lips began to quirk. Next thing I knew, I was giggling. I leaned my head back, and he bent forward to press his lips to mine.
Our connection sent a jolt of electricity racing around in my gut.
The doordingedas it opened, and Ren bolted upright. “Shit, man. Sorry! Closed. I forgot to flip the sign.”
I glanced up, then turned off my tattoo gun as my stomach went into freefall.
PD stood there, arms crossed, staring around the freshly remodeled room with his mouth twisted to the side. When his gaze landed on me, he tipped back the brim of his bowler hat. His lips pursed. Awkwardness crashed around me, and weirdly, I felt like a traitor as he pushed back his leather jacket and settled his hands on his hips.
I shot to my feet. “You said I couldn’t work for you! You don’t get to be mad now.”
