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Willow
“Ouch! Son of a bitch!” I exclaim through gritted teeth as the rod is pushed through the skin on my chest. Surface piercings are no fucking joke, and after last night, I need to feel something different. My go-to is always cosmetic, but since I’m an extremist—so I’m told—I’m getting pierced.
“You better hold still. Here, bite this.” Allie, who usually works for me at Misfits, says, handing me a thick tongue depressor.
“Fuck you. I’m not a pussy; it just hurts,” I whine as she laughs at me.
“Stop laughing at me and do the other side.”
“Okay. Okay. Hold still and bite.”
I do as I’m told as the second rod pierces my skin, and I bite down hard at the pain.
“There she is,” Allie says while handing me a small mirror to take a look at my chest. It looks good. It’s red and still hurts like a motherfucker, but four flat silver studs sit pretty under each side of my collarbone.
“Thanks.”
“So, what’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” I say, deliberately not making eye contact. Allie is one of my best friends, but she would straight up tell me how fucking stupid my current situation is, and I don’t want to deal with that sad-ass realization just yet.
“Well, for starters, where the hell have you been staying since the event that we won’t talk about happened? Don’t lie and tell me you’ve been at your brother's because I was just at the Empire Eats and Lyla let it slip that you weren’t staying with them. By the way, your sister-in-law is a terrible liar. She wouldn’t spill the details though, try as I might, she didn’t tell me anything else, so start talking.”
I growl at my terrible misfortune.
“I’m staying with my boyfriend,” I state simply, but knowing damn well, I just opened a can of worms.
“What the who?” She asks, blinking rapidly. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I do, actually. It’s serious even.” I hate myself for lying to her, but she might punch me in my tit if she knew the truth. Allie is ruthless like that and calls me out on my shit constantly. If I thought Lyla was hard to deal with, Allie is on a whole other level of harsh, so yeah, I’m gonna lie.
The shop is eerie-quiet, so I glance around only to find several pairs of eyes staring at me with stupid looks of shock on their faces. A couple of the artists from my shop are working here at Level Up Tattoo with Allie, again promising to return to me when I’m up and running.
“What?” I ask with a shrug of my shoulder.
“How did we not know about a boyfriend?” Dane asks.
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Robbie pipes in.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Allie says with a hint of hurt in her voice. But luckily, I’m saved by the bell. Her boyfriend, Adam, comes into the shop and walks over to her chair, where we’re all hanging out. I don’t miss the glare she gives me, clearly promising me the conversation isn’t over, but for now, I’m saved by the hunky fireman.
“Hey, baby,” Adam says, kissing her cheek. She leans into him with a smile. Allie hardly ever smiles, but for her man, it’s almost constant. A girl could get jealous watching these two, so I’m quick to make my excuses to leave.
“Well, it’s been real, but I’ve got shit to do,” I say, and lean over the short wall that separates Dane’s area from Allie’s and hug the big, broody asshole as he grunts his goodbye. Robbie gives me a fist bump on my way out, and fresh air never felt so freeing. As the door closes behind me, I slip into my leather jacket, careful it doesn’t touch my new piercings and start walking towards Archer’s apartment. A minute later, I feel a text vibrate in my pocket, and before I look, I know it’s Allie wanting answers. I ignore it and keep moving.
Being fake engaged is going to be a real challenge for several reasons, but I need to get in the game if we’re going to pull it off. I might be mostly covered in tattoos and love my bright blue hair, but that’s not the wifey Archie needs on his arm, so I make a rash decision and hope I don’t end up regretting it later.
Three gruesome hours later, I’m walking out of the salon, a born-again brunette. I already feel fucking boring, but it needed to be done, and I know if Archer asked, I would just get pissed off, so it’s better that I made the call.
It’s after eight o'clock on Friday, and as I’m walking into the elevator of the sky-high, I catch my reflection mid-yawn. Wow, I look ten years younger. Like the old me back in New York. Holy shit, if Darla and Ken Waterson could see me now. Dear old mom and dad, dare I say it, would most definitely approve.
Yuck. A deep frown crosses my face at the thought just as the elevator doors opens, and to my surprise there are a dozen people scurrying from one room to the next. A man wearing a long blonde wig and a suit and tie pushes past several women holding different dresses. I step tentatively inside, afraid I might have the wrong suite, when the man sees me and starts waving.
“You must be Willow. Darling, you are gorgeous. Please hurry this way; you’re late.” Then the total stranger kisses both my cheeks with wet lips. I shudder and cuss under my breath at high society act and decide this is the worst mistake I ever made. I wouldn’t change for my parents, so why the hell am I doing all this for some guy? My feet suddenly stop moving forward, and I pull back my arm, which this guy has been so rudely pulling.
“Listen, I don’t want your hands on me, and if you think for a fucking second, you’re going to give me some fairytale makeover, you’re clearly—”
At that second, my brain turns off, awe-struck, as Archie walks out into the hallway in a perfectly tailored suit, and I’m rendered speechless. Tight black dress pants fit snug on muscular thighs, and I stare as he pulls at his cufflinks. His dark eyes shoot up and lock with mine, then dart to my hair, and his brows furrow. Without a working brain, my eyes wander down to the bulge in his pants. Holy fuck, those are nice pants, like forget-about-gray-sweatpants nice. I think I might be panting because blondie comes closer and clears his throat with a knowing grin. I force myself to look away and shake off the dirty thoughts.
