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When Sera returns to the shop, I’m staring down at my cup of perfect coffee as if I’ve never seen one before in my life. She pauses and looks at me, her eyes narrowing in both concern and confusion before I sigh and offer her a small smile.
“Is there something wrong with your coffee?” my boss asks, coming to the counter and laying the mail on it before moving to stand beside me.
“No, not at all.” I pick the cup up as she checks the register, putting in a few more bills to replenish the change we’ve lost. “It’s from our neighbors, so it’s literally awesome.” It’s always awesome from them, and I’ve never had a bad coffee made by the baristas over there.
“So why are you staring at it like you’ve never had coffee before?”
I snort and take a drink of the iced coffee, grateful for the caffeine and the way it tastes. “Because it’s the delivery method that surprises me. Remember the guys I told you about? One of them brought it to me.” I don’t sayCyril Chancellorbrought me coffeebecause I think she might explode on the spot if I do. I know I personally have never been so shocked in my life.
Except, of course, when he and Ashe broke into my Airbnb to threaten me in San Diego. That was pretty shocking.
When Cyril had left, after staying to talk to me about normal stuff for a few minutes longer, I’d expected him to stay gone. Instead, he’d gone to the coffee shop next door, apparently asked them what I liked to get, and had come back with coffee for me beforekissing me on the cheekand telling me to have a good day.
It sounds stupid, but my skin still prickles where his lips had brushed my skin. Especially the more I think about it. As if it happened only aminuteago, instead of nearly twenty. He’d been sweet, understanding, and so…niceto me. Well, his version of nice. There were no threats of a sexy nature when we were talking, no weird warnings for me to keep my nose out of things.
Just him and me talking about storms, tattoos, and then eventually him giving me coffee.
Maybe the world is ending, and I just don’t know it. That would explain the weird behavior that I don’t expect from Cyril. He hadn’t even given me an errand before waltzing out the door with his own coffee and a promise that he’d see me later. Though, he did clarify that it wouldnotbe during thesketchy shitnight.
Personally, I think sketchy shit sounds fun.
That night, I find myself back at the tattoo shop by the time 7 p.m. rolls around, and when I open the door, I’m not surprised to see Ezra and Arlo already waiting for me in the main room.
Arlo stands behind the counter, going through books with a pen and occasionally making notes on whatever he’s doing. Ezra sits on a couch by the wall to my right; legs stretched out in front of him.
“Hey, Ari,” Arlo murmurs without looking up. “Give me just a minute? I’m finishing up.”
“You’vebeenfinishing up for twenty minutes,” Ezra complains with a sigh accompanying the words. “Sofinish up, Arlo.”
The dark-haired man at the counter casts a sardonic, flat look at his comrade, which Ezra returns with a dazzling smile.
“You’re impatient,” he says while I walk over and sit down on the sofa beside the little psychopath.
Immediately he throws an arm over my shoulders, dragging me against him while I watch Arlo work in his books.
“You wore our hoodie,” he comments, seeing that I do, in fact, wear theInkubushoodie over my leggings.
“It’s warm, and it’s clean,” I reply. “Pulled it out of the dryer just this morning.”
“It’s adorable on you,” Ezra says, straightening the hood very slightly.
Arlo slides the books aside, closing the one he had open as he does, and glances up at me with a look of bemusement on his face. “How’s your tattoo doing?” he asks, coming out from behind the counter and walking towards us.
“Well, my neck hasn’t rotted off or anything yet, so I assume it’s doing okay?” I check it, obviously, but the look on his face of incredulous disbelief at my words makes me crack a smile. “I’m joking. I check on it all the time, and I know how to take care of tattoos.”
“Uh-huh.” He sits down on my other side and gathers my hair up in his fist, urging me to lean forward so he can look at the tattoo himself. I do, figuring if there’s even a hint of something not healing cleanly, he’ll be the first to know.
Cool fingers run over my skin around the tattoo, tracing the flowers and the lines of the skull. I suck in a breath, surprised at how sensitive it still is, though it doesn’thurtexactly. It’s just…almost too much but also feels good at the same time.
“That feels weird,” I mutter, flexing my hands against my thighs where they rest in my lap. “Is it supposed to feel weird?”
“Yes, Ari,” Arlo chuckles, releasing his grip on my hair. “It feels weird because your tattoo isnewly healed. And it’s healing fine, by the way. You’re right in that you aren’t in any danger of neck rot.” I sit up when he moves back, and instead of looking at him, my gaze goes straight to Ezra.
“So what are we doing that’s so sketchy?” I ask, settling back against the sofa and kicking my legs out in front of me.
“Quality time,” Ezra says. “We’re spendingquality timewith you.”
“Oh?” I quirk a brow, reconsider what I’m about to say, then say it anyway. “That sounds like we’re dating.”
