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“Lyric”—laughter bursts from my lips—“just tell me what you want.”
“Oh, fine. Take all the fun out of this.” She fakes a pout, b
ut her smile almost instantly lights up her face again. “It’ll cost you a kiss.”
“That’s it?”
“What can I say? Your kisses are pretty valuable.”
Insert awkwardness on my part. I’ve never been good with compliments.
“I don’t think my kisses are that valuable, but if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it to you.” I step forward, slide my hand around her back, and reel her in for a kiss.
The kiss is quick, but leaves me breathless. When I start to move away, Lyric’s arm snakes around my back, and she pushes me right back against her.
“A little bit longer, please,” she begs, arching her chest toward me.
I easily give her what she asks and slip my tongue inside her mouth, kissing her the way she deserves. The kiss goes on for seconds, minutes, hours . . . so long I lose track of time.
Out of breath, I finally have to pull away, giving her bottom lip a gentle nip. She shudders in my arms, and I nearly stop breathing.
God, how can I be alive when my heart is beating so quickly?
“Okay, that definitely earned you the reward of seeing this.” Her voice is gravelly. She clears her throat before opening the sketchbook and hands it to me. “So, what do you think?”
Lines trace the pages and form shapes and swirls, dark and bright shades and vivid colors, patterns that all surround a fiery gold and red bird with its wings spread wide.
God, this must have taken her forever.
“It’s a phoenix,” she explains, “which is supposed to mean rebirth and strength. I thought it was pretty fitting.”
That’s how she sees me? For some reason, the thought causes my heart to swell inside my chest.
I smooth my hand over the page. “It’s amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”
“So, you like it?”
“It’s perfect. I don’t think you could have done anything more perfect.” I shake my head in awe. “God, Lyric, this is amazing. I mean, I know you’re talented, but . . . This must have taken you days to draw.”
“Nah, it wasn’t that long.” She waves me off. “But I was freaking out that you would hate it.”
“No, I love it.” I love you. I shake the thought from my head and thank her by kissing her again.
“Oh, a bonus payment.” Her lips move against mine as she cracks a joke.
“You can have as many bonus payments as you want. I owe you a ton, anyway, for putting up with my shit the other night. I should have never upset you like that. I didn’t realize that you . . .” I kiss her again and again, tipping her head back and tangling our tongues, her lips hot and inviting.
Moaning, she grips at my arms and clutches onto me as I lower her to the bed.
“As much as I love where this is going,” she murmurs as her back is just about to touch the mattress, “on my way up here, I was told to make sure to tell you that we have to leave in no less than five minutes; otherwise, we’ll be late for your appointment.”
I grunt in response, and she erupts with laughter.
“I’ve never heard you sound that frustrated before. That was pretty funny.”
“You think that’s funny?” My hand skates around to her ribcage, and I tickle her.
“Hey!” she gripes, writhing below me. “That’s not fair.”
“How do you figure?” I tickle her again, secretly loving how her hips thrust against mine every time she moves.
“Because I just gave you the most awesomest sketch of a tattoo ever. That definitely earns me a no-tickling-for-a-while pass.”
“Oh, fine.” I tickle her a few more times then push off her and offer my hand.
“Are you nervous?” she asks as I pull her to her feet.
“Yeah,” I admit with a shaky breath.
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard it can be more of a high than painful,” she says as I slip on my boots.
“I’m not worried about the pain. Pain’s fine.” I rake my fingers through my hair as we head out of my room and toward the stairs. “I’m just worried about, you know”—I gesture at my side—“my shirt pulled up and someone being that close to me and touching me. What if I freak out or something?”
“That’s why I’m going with you,” she reminds me as we reach the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll hold your hand and keep you so entertained with my charming personality that you’ll barely pay attention to anything else. I’ve even been saving up some juicy gossip for this particular occasion.”
“Since when do you gossip?”
“Since this morning when all hell has been breaking loose at the Scott’s home.”
I bend over to lace my boot. “Is everything all right?”
“It will be as soon as the drama passes.”
“You guys ready to go?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the kitchen, swinging the car keys around his finger.
“Surely-durely,” Lyric singsongs. When I stand upright, she grabs my hand and jerks me toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get the past taken off you.”
Twenty minutes later, Ethan is parking the car near the side of town that is enclosed by small shops and restaurants. Ethan owns the one on the corner, a few blocks down from the tattoo shop.
Inside, the windows and walls are decorated with different drawings and images, and in the center of the room is a display case. In the back corner is a curtain, and I can hear a needle buzzing from behind it.
Ethan starts chatting with his buddy, Cole, whose arms and neck are covered with ink.
“Is it doable?” Ethan asks as Cole studies Lyric’s sketch.
“It’ll definitely take a couple of sessions.” He examines the drawing closely then looks at me. “Can I see the tattoo you have now? I just want to make sure this will cover it up.”
I glance at Lyric, who gives me an encouraging smile, then step forward and lift up my shirt, revealing the inked patterns that form a jagged circle along my scarred skin.
Cole bends over and squints at the tat. “Whoa, that is probably one of the worst tattoo jobs I’ve ever seen.” He stands upright and frowns at Ethan. “On the phone, you said it was homemade, but I didn’t think it would be that bad.”
“So, you can’t fix it?” Ethan asks, casting a concerned glance in my direction.
My muscles ravel into knots. All this time, I was so focused on getting the actual tattoo that I didn’t even consider it might not be able to be covered up. The idea of having it on my body forever sends my stomach dropping.
Cole rubs his jawline. “I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t expect it to be that bad.” He lowers his hand. “I can cover it up, but the raised scarring will still be there.”
“That’s fine,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “We didn’t expect you to be able to cover up all the scars. We just don’t want to be able to see any of the ink that’s already there.”
“Well, then that works.” He looks at the drawing again as he backs up toward the curtain. “Let me go get this drawn up, and then we’ll go from there.”
“You going to be okay?” Ethan turns to me after Cole disappears through the curtain.
I sink into a chair near the front door. “Yeah, I’m just a little nervous.”
“That’s understandable. If you need anything, just say so, okay?”
I nod, and he stuffs his hands into his pockets then wanders off to look at the framed sketches on the wall.
I lower my head, rest my arms on my knees, and take a few measured breaths, trying to calm myself down.
Lyric plops down beside me and nudges my boot with her foot. “So, I learned interesting stuff today.”
“About your family?” I raise my head up to look at her.
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m saving that juicy story for when you’re actually getting the tattoo. But this story is mildly entertaining. It’s about Sage and Maggie.”
My brows dip. “I thought they hate each other.”
“Well, apparently, there’s a thin line between love and
hate, or so I’ve been told. And they fooled around at a party a while ago.” She tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Sage told me about it today in class, which FYI, I think he’s starting to see me as a dude. He kept giving me all the details about Maggie’s hot body, which I so didn’t want to hear.”
