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The tattoo gun purrs as a man leans over Liam’s head. He’s tattooing something behind his ear. I grimace. It looks incredibly painful, but Liam’s face is impassive, at least until he looks up and sees the two of us.
Lanston crosses his arms. “Started without us?”
Liam grins but doesn’t respond. We take a seat while we wait, not wanting to disrupt the tattoo artist. He does a few more strokes of ink before wiping Liam’s skin and putting on a clear cover.
I try not to focus on Liam. I’m not ready to look at him and find that cold stare he gave me earlier.
“All right, Nevers, you’re next.”
Lanston gets up and switches spots with Liam.
I avert my eyes as Liam sits next to me and I try not to think about anything involving this afternoon except the bookstore and coffee shop.
He sets his hand on top of mine and I’m half about to cry and half about to lay into him about being a fucking asshole. But when my head turns and our eyes meet, he has an apologetic grin and weary eyes.
“I’m sorry about earlier, Wynn.”
My gut instinct is to forgive him instantly and never talk about it again. But he looks like he has more to say, so I don’t interrupt him.
“I lost myself for a bit. I’m much clearer now… I’m sorry for looking at you like that and saying what I did.” His eyes don’t leave mine for a second.
“Thanks for apologizing,” I say half-heartedly. It still hurts and I’m confused about where his heart lies.
We sit quietly for about fifteen minutes as Lanston gets his tattoo. It’s a Roman numeral III, just above the elbow crease on the inside of his arm. He already had a numeral two there.
They wrap up talking to the tattoo artist and pay him. By the time we walk out the door, I feel like I could sleep for the rest of the evening.
Liam walks ahead of me and I see his tattoo has changed to the same as Lanston’s. A three instead of the two.
“Are you guys going to tell me what’s with the number three?” I ask, looking at each of them.
“How about we race back and if you beat us, we’ll tell you.” Lanston smiles wickedly at me.
Liam starts his engine and laughs. “Like Coldfox could beatusin a race.”
“I’ll mop the floor with you two.” I pull my helmet on and take off.
Lanston shouts something with a laugh deep in his chest and Liam just revs his engine and chases after me in his Camaro.
We ride irresponsibly fast down the highway and the three of us all get tickets. The police officer even taps his pen on Lanston’s helmet while scolding us, he’s so pissed.
Once the cop pulls away and we’re certain no other vehicles are coming, we take off again. I’m laughing so hard that tears spill over my cheeks. I know Lanston’s laughing too beneath the roar of our bikes. I can’t say for Liam because he’s so far ahead of us.
We make it safely back to the garage,by the grace of God, and park in the designated spots. Liam’s white Camaro is parked across from us, empty, but the engine still makes crinkling sounds, so at least we weren’t too far back in the dust.
“That cop actually let us off pretty easy.” Lanston shoves his speeding ticket in his pocket after rereading it. “Still an asshole though.”
“He could’ve arrested us,” I mutter as I pull my bag of books from the luggage bag. “He’s asaint.”
“Only because you batted your pretty eyes at him! If not for you, he would’ve cuffed me and Liam on the asphalt.” Lanston feigns being sad as he places both his wrists behind his back.
I throw my helmet at him and he barely moves his hands quick enough to catch it. “You're welcome.” I smirk and run toward the stairs with my book bag.
“Oh no you don’t!” he shouts after me, but I’m already swinging around the corner and taking two steps at a time. When I reach the first floor, I shove the door open and crash into someone.
My books break free of the plastic bag and scatter across the floor. I gasp and pray to God that I didn’t just run over our little old receptionist, Mrs. Abett, but thankfully, it’s just Liam.
He rubs his head and laughs. “Jesus, I was coming down there because you two were taking forever. I thought you’d gotten in a wreck or some—”
