Page 105 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

If the building and the art posted in the dingy windows were any sign of the artists that waited behind the walls… then yeah. It was a terrible idea, and Henry would only let her step into a place like that and let someone shove a needle into her skin over his own damned dead body.

“Nothing’s stopping me from leaving right now and getting a tattoo.” She huffed and crossed her arms.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t get a tattoo ever,” he corrected. “I said you couldn’t get a tattoo there.”

The promise that parted his lips and slipped out was one he knew he’d regret the next day. Or at least a part of him would. It was the same part that told him to shut his mouth, but the tiny flicker of hope and excitement that made her eyes sparkle was too much to resist.

Henry excelled at telling people ‘no.’ It was his favorite thing to do.

Except for when it came to Lyric, apparently.

“Tomorrow, once you’re sober, if you still truly want a tattoo, I’ll do it for you.”

Her mouth popped open, forming a small ‘O’ shape, her blue-green eyes darting toward Nohen and back to him.

“You know how?”

He possibly enjoyed her surprise too much and waggled the fingers of his left hand. “I did most of these.”

Her mouth dropped open even wider, and she reached out to snag his hand. She pulled it closer, studying the ink on his wrist and forearm with all the intensity of a detective with a magnifying glass.

If her simple touch and that intent focus could make his heart race like it did just then, how the hell did he expect himself to sit still and lean over her with a tattoo gun buzzing in his hand for an hour or more?

See? Told you you’d regret it.

Shut up.

Nohen lifted his glass to his lips and sucked down the last bit of liquid. It burned his taste buds and scorched the back of his throat, leaving a nice, fiery trail to his belly.

He winced and sat the empty glass to the side, pushing it out of reach before he leaned back against the porch rails and stared enviously at Henry and Lyric.

She had his wrist gripped in her tiny hand, her eyes roaming his skin as if the ink in his flesh was a map to treasure she had to memorize before time ran out.

It was pretty cool that the guy could use a tattoo gun. And knowing he’d inked himself, sitting not only through the pain of the needle but doing it all with his own hand?

Fine. It was badass.

But did Lyric have to fawn over him?

Nohen forced a neutral expression and closed his eyes as he listened to their murmurs. Let himself fade into the background.

“Doesn’t that sound great, Nohen?”

Lyric’s voice wrapped around him and pulled him into the moment again. “What sounds great?” he asked, cracking one eye open.

A comfy haze fogged his brain, his thoughts, but he could still pick out every strand of hair that was out of place in all the right ways. It gave her a cute, disheveled look, exactly how she should look after a few drinks on a porch while they were stranded in the middle of some podunk town waiting for their bus to get a new axle.

It made her seem… more real. Less like the rising pop star he’d idolized in his mind months before ever meeting her. Less like the badass professional singer that went out on stage every night and bathed in the shouts of excitement from the crowd.

Her lopsided smile made his heart ache.

“If I got a stained glass music note?”

Nohen could easily picture her smooth, creamy skin decorated with a kaleidoscope of colors, all compacted in the shape of a music note to represent what she loved most. Then his mind chased the thoughts right to the gutter. Where would she put the ink?

“I think you could pull off anything,” he admitted.

In the low light of the moon, her cheeks flushed pink.