Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Rory
Aweek had passed since the great Come in My Pants Incident, and I hadn’t seen Wyatt since.
Granted, he hadn’t been giving me radio silence.
He still checked in daily, and we talked about our days, how many bees live in a hive, and why no-signal drivers were the worst, but he hadn’t pushed to meet up again.
After putting myself out there far more than I was comfortable with, I wasn’t willing to bring it up, though.
“Why did you get here an hour early again?” Harper asked. “Just to lurk?”
“Mmm, more like broodily sulk. Do you think I have mystique?” I lay out on the table in the back, staring up at the ceiling.
Harper poked at my side. It was a slower day for both of us, so it wasn’t like I disrupted any clients, and I’d needed to get out of my house so I didn’t gnaw my arm off or something drastic.
Harper snorted. “You’re the least mysterious person I’ve met.”
I bit back what I was about to blurt out—because I did have a secret I kept, but guilt trickled through me about that one.
And it wouldn’t be fair to out Wyatt when he was still figuring himself out.
But damn, I hated secrets. I shared everything because I didn’t live well with hiding.
Probably one of the reasons I was the first to have come out in my family, even though I was the second youngest.
“Do you think I should bring up the tattoo convention?” I wrinkled my nose as I stared up at the white ceiling. “Or is it ridiculous?”
Harper shrugged. “If Owen doesn’t want to sponsor, do a booth on your own. It’s a smart career move, babe.”
Shit, Harper was the best. She wasn’t a lifer in this industry like me—we knew about her next moves into vet school—but she was so fucking supportive and chill. I was an asshole for making out with her dad. Would she hate me for it? Or would she be happy he was finding himself?
What made it all worse was that my obsession with him grew by the day.
This didn’t happen with me. Usually I indulged in the sparkly, shiny distraction, and then it went by the wayside.
Piercing was one of the few things that had continued to keep my interest due to how the industry constantly shifted, same with the day-by-day clientele. Variety was the spice of my sanity.
“Yeah. The booth application deadline is closing, though, so if I want to do it, I need to figure it out soon. Or, you know, talk to Owen.”
“Talk to me about what?” Owen’s voice boomed from the doorway.
I shot up to sitting on the table. Owen had stepped into the back area where we worked with clients.
In one of the side stalls, Caspian, one of our other tattoo artists, was neck deep in a session with a client, but they were engaged in their own conversation, not paying attention to my chat with Harper.
Owen had started this tattoo shop fifteen years ago, and he was every inch the tattooed, bearded hottie with some grays.
Total Daddy vibes, even though he hated when I called him that.
The guy came off gruff and sullen, but he was a fucking sweetheart.
The way he watched out for us had kept me loyal all these years, even though people hopped around a lot in the industry.
Plus, the shop movie nights were pretty baller.
“About what movie we’re watching next?” I asked, earning myself an elbow in the side from Harper.
Owen raised a brow. “Yeah, that’s not it. Though the answer is Beetlejuice.”
“Ah, the ancient film of yore?” I teased, swinging my legs back and forth off the side of the table.
Owen flipped me a middle finger. “So, your avoidance aside, what did you want to talk about?”
Busted. I heaved a sigh, wishing I could pop out on the other side of the room. “Wouldn’t levitation powers be cool?”
Owen lifted his brow in a wicked arch that made him hotter. “I swear, Rory. The lengths you’ll go to in order to avoid is spectacular, but I’d still like an answer.”
I huffed out a sigh. “Fine, I wanted to know if we were doing a stall at the Philly Ink Convention and if I could go on the piercing front.”
Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have one planned. We tried it years ago, but I hate shows.”
“Well, duh. You loathe crowds,” I responded. “But that doesn’t mean the rest of us couldn’t go and rep Alchemy.”
Owen heaved a sigh, and my chest dropped. “Where’s this stemming from, Rory?” His eyes zeroed in on mine, as if he could peel back the layers and see my motivations.
“Clearly, the buffet of hot guys who’ll roam through,” I shot out on automatic, just to avoid the prickles running up my arms.
“Yeah, I’m not going through all those hoops so you can go on dick patrol,” he responded, a frown creasing his brow.
“Is Dick Patrol the X-rated version of Paw Patrol?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.
Harper pinched me in the side. “First off, ew, and second off, tell Owen the real reason, dumbass.”
I swallowed hard. Hadn’t I done enough self-exposing this week? Fuck. It wasn’t even the naked kind like I enjoyed. “Fine. I’m looking to establish myself more in the industry. This is something I want to do long term.”
Owen’s features softened, and ick, I hated this emotional territory. Mostly because I was shit at regulating them, so avoiding was easier. “Yeah, I’ll agree on one condition. Get Nyx or Caspian on board, and you guys can represent Alchemy.”
“Why not August?”
Owen snorted. “The two of you forgot to pay your sewer bill three times in a row. Consider it balance in the force.”
“Are you calling me the dark side?” I accused.
He wasn’t wrong, but it felt like he insinuated I needed a babysitter.
And fuck, that stung a little. I knew I was a mess, but I could show up when needed.
Hell, I rarely called out of work, unless I was deathly ill, and if I was a little late here and there, I always made it up with clients.
“Oh, so you’d be a Jedi?”
“Nah, dark side all the way, baby,” I teased, hopping off the table.
Owen was giving me the chance. That was what really mattered.
And I’d use it to prove to everyone I wasn’t flighty.
Maybe no one here treated me that way, but school had been hell, a cycle of disappointed teacher faces.
Just perpetual frowns and caterpillar brows. “You won’t regret this.”
“I know I won’t,” Owen said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
Oh, ugh. I was going to cry. He was giving me the Papa Bear look and being encouraging, and it made me question who I was trying to prove my competence to anyway.
Maybe just myself.
“Well, Caspian’s with a client, so I’ll go harass Nyx, then,” I said, heading in that direction. I swallowed hard, ignoring the burning in my eyes. Away with all these nice fucking people. They were the worst…best. The blurst.
“I’m sure she’ll love that,” Harper drawled. “Though if you go, can you ask her for her girlfriend’s email?”
“What, gonna try to steal Becky away from Nyx?” I waggled my brows.
“No, dipshit. I want to ask Becky about getting into vet school. Bout time I start my applications.”
I glanced between her and Owen, who shared a knowing glance.
My heart sank. Oh, okay, so Harp’s timeline for leaving was sooner than I realized.
Fucking hated that. She’d started a few years ago, and as a fellow piercer, we’d bonded at once.
Working together had been seamless, and I knew I wouldn’t find that connection with everyone.
Did Wyatt know she was headed in that direction?
Fuck, what was I doing even thinking of him?
My thoughts had become so tangled as of late, new feelings emerging that I wasn’t used to.
Like the fact we talked every day, and I wanted that to continue.
With most of the guys I’d been interested in, the thrill would start to fade and I’d be out by this point, but for some reason I kept circling around Wyatt like I was stuck in his orbit.
“Boo, I’m going to give you the wrong email address,” I teased Harper before I strode away.
I’d get her the address, even if I didn’t like the fact she was preparing to move on.
The next piercer Owen hired would probably be a jerk who got competitive and bro-ey.
Though that vibe wouldn’t last long here.
Nyx was in her stall, sketching on a pad between clients. I coughed when I stopped in front of her, but she didn’t look up. “What do you want, Rory?”
“Your undying affection and praise, to start,” I said, scratching at my leg so I didn’t race by her stall. Maybe a few laps would help tone down this feeling, though.
“Mmm, tall order,” Nyx said. “Pass.”
“Asshole,” I responded, planting myself on the side of her table. “Daddy Owen says I need a babysitter if I want to do the tattoo convention.”
She looked up from her drawing. “Hell yeah. Tell me the dates and I’m there.”
“That simple? You don’t need any…favors?” I waggled my brows.
Nyx fixed me with a hard look. “No one here wants your favors, Rory. And yeah, it’s that simple. You’ve been talking about this for a while now, which tells me how serious you are about it.”
Well, this was dissatisfactory. Straight from one feelings conversation to another. “Gross, Nyx, you’re taken. Stop hitting on me so hard.”
Nyx lifted a brow. “Okay, brat. Tell Owen it’s on.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. I had to work a whole shift like this? I slipped up to the front for a moment, which was empty since the next clients hadn’t arrived yet. Slumping onto the couch, I tugged my phone out.
A text from Wyatt.
Are you free tonight?
My heart started to race on automatic, as if he’d walked right through the door.
Yes.
I hit send before I realized I had my shift here.
I work until nine, though. Will that be a problem?
Fuck, I hoped he’d still want to hang, even though he was more of an early guy than late night. My heart thudded a mile a minute, and I stared at the three dots at the bottom of the screen.
Want to come to my place then?
God, no matter how terrible an idea this was, my fingers moved of their own volition. I’d only ever have one answer.
I’ll be there.