Page 7

"Okay," I press out, blinking tears away. "Can I scream?"

"Scream away, my friend," he says absentmindedly, his finger rubbing over my skin. "We're the only ones here. Nobody is going to hear you."

"Okay. Oh fuck—"

A flash of pain shoots through me. He must have hit some kind of nerve. Can I even still move my leg? People say tattoos are dangerous, is this what they mean?

"Are you slaughtering someone in here?" A light voice suddenly comes from the doorway, barely audible over the tattoo gun and the chime of the little bell over the studio’s door.

Evan continues his torture, not paying it much mind beyond an absentmindedly muttered, "Trust me, if I was going to kill him, you wouldn't hear a thing."

“Ah, you know I’d help you hide the body.”

But I turn my head toward the female voice. Even though I already know who it is.

Brooke.

His little sister. Standing in the doorway in all her fiery glory.

And by ‘fiery,’ I don’t only mean her bright copper hair, falling down her shoulders in unruly waves, tangled by the wind outside. No, I mean the fire in her eyes, burning hatred she directs at me for reasons I’m not privy to.

I met her for the first time after moving here. When Evan brought me to his home after my disastrous eighteenth birthday, she was on a trip with their grandparents, and over the years there was never much of a chance to run into his family again.

Until I moved here. And sat on his tattoo chair, currently shoved against the wall, while he was smoking up my arm. Because I might or might not have avoided paying his parents’ place a visit.

And the moment Brookes moss-green orbs met mine, time stood still. I swear, everything moved in slow motion, even Evan’s damn tattoo needle as it jammed black ink into my skin. Her cheeks turned the cutest shade of pink, and her lips parted ever so slightly, while I wondered if I’d died and gone to heaven.

She stammered an introduction, looking everywhere but at me. However, the moment my name left my lips, the moment burst like a bubble pierced by my dog’s teeth.

“Ah, so you’re Kieran, huh?” Ice washed over her as she eyed me up and down, suddenly a wall of ice between us. Then she proceeded to ignore me as she talked with her brother.

Exactly like right now.

"I brought your car keys back." She waltzes into the room as if she owns the place, without even acknowledging me.

I want to give her a snarky greeting, but pain suddenly shoots through my leg. Stubbornly, I turn my head to keep staring at the brick wall and bite my lip to keep from cursing Evan out.

The first time we met, I learned my reputation precedes me. And that, apparently, I have no idea what my reputation is. By the way she treats me, you’d think I killed a puppy.

"Cool. Thanks, just put them on the counter." Evan hits another particularly painful spot, and I bite into the back of my hand to stifle a groan.

"You know, your engine was making kind of weird noises when I accelerated. You might want to ask someone to check it out before it dies on you."

"Sure," Evan mumbles absentmindedly, wiping more ink off my leg.

Then, finally, he lifts his tattoo machine off my skin and rolls back a few meters in his chair. "Okay. Well done, Kieran, we’re halfway through. We can take a break."

"Fuck yes." I suck in a deep breath, then turn to her. "Hi, Brooke." Pain makes my voice high and squeaky, and I totally don’t have a tear rolling down my cheek.

"Kieran." Her voice is full of ice. Sadly, not the kind able to soothe my burning skin. "Anyway, Evan, did you hear me?"

"You got my car keys. Thanks for bringing them back." My focus jumps between the two of them.

Oh, she’s angry. Arms crossed in front of her chest, her jaw ticks, then she shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, you know what?" She rolls her eyes. "I hope you strand in the middle of nowhere."

Evan, oblivious or maybe spontaneously deaf, rearranges his tattoo tools and takes off his plastic gloves. His back cracks as he gets up and stretches his arms over his head.