Chapter 2
Bryce
“So, you’re a talker,” Bryce said, seconds before cramming the biggest Italian sub he’d ever seen into his mouth.
Holden had already chewed and swallowed his first bite, and instead of answering with words, he flicked his gaze up at Bryce in a way that would have certainly taken his legs out from under him if he’d been standing.
His brother wasn’t wrong about Holden. The man was insanely attractive, with bleached hair that had started to grow out and reveal dark roots, round cheeks and a plush mouth, a slim body that was definitely covered in more tattoos than Bryce could currently see.
Merrick had told him all about the shop, about Riggs—the guy who owned it—and about Holden, the grumpy and brooding artist who worked beside him.
He’d told Bryce about the beach and the weather and the tacos, and from the first day Merrick had gotten hired, getting Bryce to California had been the plan.
“Sarcasm noted,” Holden murmured, tucking in for another bite of his late lunch. Bryce followed suit, trying to not stare too long at the shape of Holden’s jaw as he chewed or the flex of his throat when he swallowed.
“This is good.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the sub down on the white paper wrapper he’d unfolded to use as a plate.
Some lettuce and red onions had already fallen out of the overstuffed sandwich, and he popped one of the onion slivers into his mouth to make sure he didn’t do something careless like get ideas about kissing strangers.
The thing was, though…Bryce liked kissing strangers. He liked kissing everybody.
“Are you from here?” he asked.
Holden glanced up at him and set down his sandwich, wiping his hands on a napkin before dropping them into his lap. “Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
“Obviously.”
“How long have you been tattooing for?”
“Since I was nineteen,” Holden answered.
“How many years is that?”
Holden licked his lips, pink tongue darting out and drawing a slick line Bryce couldn’t help but stare at.
How was he supposed to stay strong in the face of such a gorgeous man?
What had Merrick been thinking sending them out to eat?
He knew how Bryce could be sometimes, and Bryce was a little tired from the flight, from the stress of the trip, from his entire life.
“Do you and your brother ever stop talking?”
Bryce’s mouth twitched and he scratched his Cupid’s bow with the corner of a jagged fingernail. “My answer is the same as before.”
Holden studied him, and Bryce had to look away. The weight of Holden’s crystalline blue stare was too much for him to handle on as little sleep as he’d gotten the night before. The man was objectively gorgeous, and Bryce didn’t have much willpower when it came to telling pretty men no.
“My brother talks more than me,” Bryce explained. “He started early and never stopped, and if I ever wanted to be heard at home I had to have just as many words and just as much volume.”
“Doesn’t it ever get tiring?”
Holden hadn’t looked away from him, a few loose strands of hair falling into his eyes. Bryce picked up his sandwich and took another bite, chewing and swallowing before answering, “Yes.”
Competing with Merrick had always been exhausting, but it was the only way to be seen in their house, growing up.
Merrick had not only excelled in academics but also art.
He was social and he was friendly; everybody loved him.
Bryce hadn’t necessarily grown up in Merrick’s shadow, but there were absolutely some big—albeit hand-me-down—shoes to fill.
“Then why don’t you stop?” Holden asked.
Bryce let out a low laugh, scrubbing a hand down his face. “At this point, I don’t think I know how.”
“I could think of a couple ways,” Holden said.
Bryce’s eyes went wide, a surge of something flaring out from his stomach and tickling every nerve in his body. The reaction must have been visible because Holden smirked before covering the lower half of his face with his hand and looking away.
The conversation felt like an impasse…or maybe an invitation. Bryce wasn’t entirely sure, but the thing about growing up with a brother like Merrick meant he always had to at least try.
“Tell me more?” he asked.
Bryce would have sworn Holden’s cheeks darkened, but it could have also been a shadow.
There were so many palm trees in Los Angeles.
It was one of the first things he’d noticed on the ride from the airport.
Well, that and all the concrete. Los Angeles wasn’t anything like the small town in Colorado he’d grown up in, and maybe that was part of the appeal.
Merrick leaving had been a blessing and a curse.
For as much as Bryce had struggled to get a footing in his own life, he found it ten times harder to do the same with his brother gone.
He could have dropped out of college and moved early, or transferred his credits or something, but with all the chatting and all the brain power, Merrick had always also been Bryce’s voice of reason.
Don’t walk away from the scholarship, his brother had told him.
So he hadn’t.
Add the minor if you can handle the course load, his brother had said.
So he did.
“No,” Holden said softly, wrapping the remainder of his sandwich back into the wrapper and carefully pressing the tape back down to seal it closed.
Bryce cursed under his breath.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Saying that,” Bryce answered. “Obviously, it wasn’t welcome.”
“Not unwelcome,” Holden said, standing from the rusted iron table and angling his head toward the direction of Ink and Ember. “Just short on time.”
Bryce made less graceful work of wrapping up his sandwich and untangling himself from the table.
Holden had already started to walk back to work, and Bryce jogged to catch up to him.
They fell in step together, and that was maybe the first time he realized Holden was shorter than him.
Not by much, but enough that if they ever did kiss, he would have to tilt his head down…
“Short on time,” he repeated. “Does that mean…?”
“It means I have another appointment I have to set up for.”
“And after?”
Holden took a breath that lifted his shoulders, and Bryce watched him hold it.
He counted to five until Holden exhaled, and they both turned a corner, the shop once again in sight.
He didn’t think this was the last time he would see Holden, but he was running out of time in this specific moment and he wasn’t quite ready to let it slip away.
“Are you staying with your brother?” Holden asked.
“That was the plan.”
“Then nothing,” he said.
“Why nothing?”
“Because you have no reason to go out on your own just yet, and I have no reason to come over to his place. I don’t even know where he lives.”
“How do you…” Bryce stopped himself from finishing the thought. “Actually, never mind.”
Holden shot him an unimpressed look.
“Merrick is a lot,” Bryce said, and Holden scoffed. “It would be very reasonable for me to tell him I need a breather.”
“Not your first day here.”
“You clearly don’t know Merrick,” he shot back.
The shop was closer, close enough Bryce could read the dark black and bronze logo on the window.
He took a risk and grabbed Holden’s wrist, dragging the other man to a stop.
They both stared down at the way Bryce’s tattooed fingers curled around Holden’s tattooed wrist, and neither of them said a word for so long Bryce almost forgot to breathe.
“I think I like you more when you’re quiet,” Holden said, taking his hand back.
“I can be quiet,” Bryce said. “I actually…sometimes I prefer it.”
Holden swallowed, visibly and audibly, and Bryce fought the urge to lean down and see if he could taste the vinaigrette on Holden’s mouth.
“What’s on your knuckles?” Holden asked, which might have been the absolute last thing Bryce expected him to ask.
He frowned, looking down at his own hands like he’d forgotten the tattoos there. He made fists of his hands and showed the ink to Holden, who nodded approvingly.
“Stardust,” he said, tracing his finger in a straight line across the bold letters. “Why?”
“We’re made of it.”
Holden licked his lips, wetting them in a borderline indecent way before pulling them both into his mouth and biting down.
God, did the man have any idea how attractive he was?
He had to know, right? There was no way Holden didn’t realize the effect he had on people, or at the very least the effect he was having on Bryce.
“I wanted a reminder that I’m more than this,” he added softly. “And also less.”
Holden released his lips, teeth marks visible.
“Give me your phone,” Holden said, extending his hand.
Bryce knew a chance when he saw it, and he had his phone out of his pocket embarrassingly quickly.
He dropped the device in Holden’s waiting palm, mouth twitching into a smile when Holden held it up facing him so the screen would unlock.
The other man scrolled through the apps Bryce had open, which hadn’t been anything interesting.
His photo gallery from the airplane ride after the Wi-Fi had cut out, a game he’d been playing while he’d waited to board, a book he’d been reading, a streaming app with a documentary he’d grown bored of.
Holden flicked his stare up to Bryce and hesitated before continuing his search.
“I don’t have anything indecent, if that’s what you’re looking for,” he said. “I mean, there is an album, but it’s hidden.”
Holden chuckled and swiped through to Bryce’s text messages.
He started a new thread and keyed in a phone number Bryce very much hoped was his, sent a message, then held the phone out for him to take.
Bryce didn’t even look at it. He returned his phone to his pocket and tried to not smile at Holden like he’d just won the lottery.
“Would it be too forward if I told you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how much I want to kiss you since the first moment you opened your mouth?” Bryce asked.
“Maybe.”
“Well, I have.”
Holden licked his lips and did that thing again where he bit down on the bottom one.
Bryce reached up, ready to draw it out of his mouth but moved too slow.
It was already free by the time his hand got there, but he pressed his thumb against Holden’s lip anyway, pulling it down just enough to expose his teeth.
Holden didn’t stop him, but the things Bryce wanted to do next—or have done to him, more fittingly—were not appropriate for the sidewalk, so he pulled his hand back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m gonna text you later tonight,” he said.
Holden studied him, but it was like the proximity to the shop had drawn the man back into his shell.
Instead of words, he nodded and turned away, walking the last half of the block alone.
Bryce waited until Holden had disappeared into the shop to check his cell phone.
He smiled to himself when he found Holden’s contact information saved, and a text message thread open and ready for him to start.