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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Harlow
The next day, I’m back to work bright and early. I’m stupidly buzzed, but I’m trying not to acknowledge the fact it’s because of my date with Ezra we rescheduled for later today. The gym session with him and Sawyer ended up being so fun, probably because I only worked out very lightly and we all chatted more than we exercised. Ezra fits in with us so easily, you’d never know we’ve known him for such a short amount of time. It feels like forever.
One of my bad traits is not liking to get too excited about things—because ninety percent of the time you get let down anyway—but my anti-pep talk isn’t working today, and the customers haven’t managed to knock my good mood out of me by the time Nico joins me for the last stint. I hand the customer his drink with a big grin and a “have a nice day!” and turn to see Nico smirking at me. “What?”
“You’re in a good mood today.”
I gasp with mock indignation. “I’m always in a good mood.”
“Not true,” he says with a raise of his brow and a smirk, “but even so.” That makes me laugh.
“I just don’t like early mornings,” I insist, trying to explain away my frequent surly starts.
“Good to know.” The tone that he says that in does something to me, but when I look back up at him, he’s turned away as if nothing is wrong. There I go again, looking into things too much. It’s him going out of his way to deliver me goodies yesterday—it’s got my head all messed up. I blame the period hormones.
“Have you got any plans tonight?” I ask for something to say.
“I think I’m going to head to your gym. About time I actually put my money where my mouth is. Did you have any time tonight to show me the ropes?” Typical. The one time I get a chance to spend time with Nico that’s not studying or working, and I have a date I’m excited about.
“Actually, I’ve got a date tonight,” I start, intending to offer any other night, but my phone rings from the back. I must’ve forgotten to put it on silent. I grimace and head out to see who it is. Ezra. “Hello?”
“Hey, have you got a second?”
“Yeah,” I reply, double-checking that no one is queueing.
“I’m running really late at the shop, we had a bit of a nightmare start. I’m not gonna make our reservation.” See? Disappointment.
“Oh, that’s okay. We’ll reschedule.”
“No way, we’ve already done that. Will you meet me at the shop when you’re ready?” I agree because I don’t want to wait for this either, and he gives me the address.
A couple of hours later, I’m coming up to the door of Vice Ink feeling unfamiliar butterflies in my stomach. Have I made too much of an effort? Not enough? I never second-guess things like this, but I’m nervous. I’ve gone with an off-white high-neck top with a floaty silver satin mini, my hair around my shoulders in waves, and I’m comfortable enough while still showing effort. My leather jacket and flat boots make it slightly more casual, too. I push my way through the door with a big exhale and pick Ezra out straight away past the counter, even if he is hunched over someone’s back. There’s a stunning girl at the front desk smiling at me, and I return her smile.
“You must be Harlow.”
“Is it that obvious?” I must stick out like a sore thumb here.
“Not really, you grunge up well,” she jokes. “You’re as gorgeous as he said.” I blush at the thought of Ezra telling people about me and decide I love this girl who’s told me that. Maybe she can sense I’m nervous and need to hear it, or maybe she’s just a lovely person. “Go on over,” she says, gesturing to the back. “Ezra? Harlow’s here.”
As I step round the counter, I see the guy laying on his front as Ezra pauses and turns around to greet me with a smile.
“Fucking hell, Ezra,” the guy says before either of us can say anything. I frown, but Ezra throws a punch to his arm.
“Keep your eyes off my girl.” Ezra sayingmy girlhas my insides warming.
“What, am I supposed to close my eyes around her? Jesus. You are well aware you’re punching above your weight, right?” That makes me chuckle as Ezra glares some more at the poor guy.
“Do you mind if I look?” I ask the man.
“Not at all, sweetheart. Look all you want.”
“I’m nearly finished,” Ezra says. “This last bit shouldn’t be too painful... unless he keeps flirting with you.”
I take my chance to check out the tattoo as Ezra finishes. It’s two figures locked in an embrace, taking up the guy’s whole back—a woman, gorgeous and naked, and the Grim Reaper, complete with skull and hood. It looks like it could be a photo, it’s that realistic, and I’m shocked at Ezra’s talent.
“Oh my god, that’s incredible,” I breathe, and the guy looks up at me, grinning.
