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Tensing his arm, Ace barely flinches as Cruz gets to work on his skin. There’s already a myriad of patterns, but they all seem to flow into one another effortlessly.
“You got any ink, Remi?” the other guy calls from behind the curtain.
“No,” I reply, “but I’ve always wanted one.”
“Virgin skin,” he chuckles. “You know we’re going to have to rectify that, Cruz, man.”
“I just don’t know what I’d get." I shrug. "It’s a big commitment.”
The guys all howl with laughter at my comment, but I let them have their fun. I’m too entranced by the way Cruz paints Ace’s skin to care.
“You’re really talented,” I say.
“Thanks, being a tattoo artist is fifty-percent artist, thirty-percent technical ability, and twenty-percent therapist. Am I right, D?”
“Hell yeah.”
“People like to talk when they’re in the chair, huh?” I ask.
“Some people, like your guy here, don’t utter a word. Others talk and talk—“
“And talk,” D calls.
“I guess pain affects everyone differently.” My eyes lift to Ace as I say the words, but he’s already watching me, his gaze clouded with something I can’t quite decipher.
I smile, itching to reach out and trace the patterns decorating his hard muscles.
“So Jag,” Cruz says as he outlines what looks like a skull on Ace’s lower bicep, “have you heard from Donny? Rumor has it he’s pissed you haven’t—“
Ace’s eyes snap to his friend’s, and he shakes his head discreetly.
“Shit, man. My bad.” Cruz’s eye flick to mine. “Hey Remi, you thirsty? We got a vending machine out front. You have to kick the fucking thing to get it to drop though. Or there’s a water cooler.”
“I could do with a soda,” Ace says, his hard gaze back on me.
“Anyone else want anything while I’m up?” Sarcasm clings to my words. Cruz must hear it, because he laughs.
“I’ll take a water,” the guy from behind the curtain says.
I get up and go back out front, locating the vending machine and water cooler.
“So what’s that all about, man?” Cruz’s words give me pause. “You know if Kelsey hears...” I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he mentioned her name again.
Kelsey.
I want to believe it’s no one, that Ace wouldn’t be fooling around with me if he had a girl in the Heights. But I’ve been burned too many times to trust people—especially people I barely know.
When I re-enter the back room, Cruz and Ace fall silent,
and it’s obvious they were talking about me. I raise a brow. “Did I interrupt something?” Handing Ace his soda, I peek around the curtain and put the cup of water down on a steel tray. The guy in the chair doesn’t look so good, and I quickly slip away.
“I like you, Ace’s girl,” Cruz says when I sit back down. “You should come back here soon and let me ink you. On the house.”
“Maybe I will. It’s my birthday soon.” The words spill out, and I instantly regret them.
“You hear that Jag? It’s your girl’s birthday. You’d better get her something real nice and pretty.”
Ace flips him off, grumbling some inaudible reply. Something has changed since we first got here. Ace is distant, and I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with Kelsey.
