“What drama? Because of your tattoos?”
“Apparently,” she says, making a face. “So, then I said that maybetheyshould cover up, and stick their old fashioned POV’s up their asses.”
Kaden snorts. “And?”
“And then I hung up the phone, and then my mom called and…” she sighs, leaning back, crossing her arm. “I have to cover up my tattoos.” She pushes her bottom lip out, pouting.
She’s got a lot of tattoos. And I’m not saying I get where they’re coming from because I don’t. But sometimes you have to adapt. I don’t tell her that, though. Instead, I pat her leg.
“Tell you what?” I say. “When I get married, I’ll let you—”
“Youwant to get married?” She whips her head my way, and I freeze.
“Uhm—” I glance at Kaden, but he’s fucking unreadable.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I never pictured you as the type,” she says, glancing at Kaden and back at me. “I mean, you’ve never even had a boyfriend. I didn’t think you—”
“Yeah, no. No, you’re right. I’m not.” I stroke my hands over my jeans and lean back, spreading my legs wider. “I’m more of a fuck-em-and-leave-em kind of guy.” I force a chuckle, and I can feel Kaden’s eyes on me, but I don’t look his way. I clear my throat. “Look, they’re stupid as fuck! You should be allowed to be you, and not have to cover up to fit someone else’s idea of you. That shit’s just wrong.”
She nods. “Right? I shouldn’t have to change because of someone else.”
“Right.”
Hypocrisy is a kingdom, and I’m their queen.
21
Kaden
Myneck’sbeenkillingme all week. And not just my neck—my shoulders are stiff, my back’s worse, and my head’s pounding. I had to cancel on a customer today because I couldn’t figure out how to sit without wanting to cry from exhaustion.
I made an appointment at a masseuse the other day, and then I called back the next day and cancelled.
I hate this.
“You wanna hang tonight?”
I peek at Seth under my arm thrown over my face. I’m lying flat out on my tattoo chair. Nothing is comfortable, but I lowered it and now I can’t move.
“Grab some food and game?” he adds, wiping down his station.
“I don’t know, man.”
He throws the used paper in the bin, removing his gloves and leans in. He casts a glance at Iggy in the back and swallows.
“Are we good?” he asks, voice low.
I frown, and it hurts my head. “What do you mean?”
He takes a breath, casting a glance at Iggy again, scratching his eyebrow. “We haven’t hung out all week, and—” He scoots his chair closer, his eyes darting between mine. “Did I do something?”
No, Seth, this is just me being an asshole because I can’t stop thinking about what happened the last time we hung out, and I don’t dare even let you rub my back, in case I pop a boner at work. So, I’ve been slowly killing myself with pain killers and jerk off sessions.
“No,” I say as I shake my head gently. “No, dude. For real, I’m just having a shitty week. My back is killing me and—” I sigh, putting my arm back over my face. “I made an appointment.”
“At a masseuse?”
“Yeah.”
