Chapter 21 Timothy
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Timothy
The vibe at Ink & Iron is off.
It’s not the usual chaos that keeps things humming, or the low hum of conversation over buzzing needles.
No, it’s something different. Something quieter, more suffocating.
Mitchell’s got his head buried in convention prep, and I get it, it’s a big deal. But it’s like he’s forgotten how to look up, how to check in, how to say something that isn’t about booth layouts, portfolios, or machine specs.
If it weren’t for the sound of him muttering to himself about micrometers and presentation boards, I’d think he was a damn robot.
I’m sure Freddie is struggling to hold it together as well. Hopefully Penny is distracting him on his day off today.
I guess it doesn’t help that none of us can get Ivy off our mind. I can see it. She’s made things more complicated.
Even me.
I’m supposed to be the easygoing glue. The guy who holds everything together when the cracks start forming. But lately? I can feel myself starting to crack, too.
But it doesn’t help that I haven’t heard from Ivy since our talk. The one where I spilled my guts, where I said too much and probably fucked up a lot. And now, it feels like I’m stuck in this loop, wondering if I said the wrong thing.
She’s been quiet, and that silence is gnawing at me.
It’s not like me to be this anxious about something I can’t control, but damn if I don’t find myself checking my phone like a teenager waiting for a text.
Nothing.
Not a word.
It’s like she’s disappeared, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s moved on or if she’s just as confused as I am.
The guys haven’t really mentioned her either.
It’s like they’ve hit the mute button on the whole thing, and it makes the air feel thick with unspoken words.
The weird thing is that I don’t think they’re ignoring it on purpose.
I think they just don’t know how to bring it up.
Or maybe, they’re pretending they don’t care, but they do. I know they do.
But I’m not going to be the one to break the silence. I can’t be.
I glance over at Mitchell, who’s hunched over his sketchbook again, only this time his focus is so intense, it’s almost... disturbing. He’s lost in whatever world he’s building around this convention, and I can’t blame him. But I’m wondering if he’s running away from something too.
“Hey, Mitchell,” I start, the words stiff, forced, trying to focus on a conversation I know he’ll want to engage in. Work. “You think we’re good on the booth layout, or...?”
Mitchell doesn’t look up. Just keeps scribbling. "Mm hmm," he mutters, flipping a page. "It’s fine. Need to get the portfolio together, though. And the machines... Need to check everything."
I blink at him, frowning. It’s not like I expected a warm conversation, but damn, it feels like a wall between us.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” I say, trying to keep it light, but it feels heavier than usual. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page. It’s a big deal, you know?”
“Mm,” he grunts again, tapping his pen against his sketchbook. “Yeah, big deal.”
I feel the weight of the silence creeping back in. It’s like I’m talking at him, not with him. But I try to shake it off.
“So, Freddie’s got Penny today, right?” I ask, not really sure why I’m asking, but I need to fill the space.
"Yeah," Mitchell replies, his voice a little too clipped. “Ivy is…” He sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “Not working for some reason. Freddie didn’t say much.”
“Right.” I try to make myself focus on my sketchbook again, but the lines blur in front of me. I’m not drawing anymore. I’m just... thinking.
It’s like we’re all in our own little worlds, and none of us knows how to bridge the gap. Freddie’s spinning his wheels, Mitchell’s consumed with the convention, and me? I’m just sitting here, waiting for something to snap us out of it.
I push myself up from my chair, needing a break from the stagnation of the shop. The tension is starting to crawl under my skin, and I’ve got this gnawing feeling like if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to lose it. It’s one of those days when the air feels too thick to breathe.
I grab my jacket and step out the back door, letting the cool, crisp air hit me. I’m not hungry, not really. But I need to clear my head, so I decide to grab a sandwich from the corner store. The walk will do me good.
Mitchell probably needs a moment away from me as well.
I make it halfway down the block when I spot her.
Ivy.
It’s not like I’m looking for her. Hell, I didn’t even know I was looking until I saw her. But there she is, standing outside the café with a woman I don’t recognize, both of them laughing at something she’s said.
And Ivy?
She looks... stunning. She looks amazing. The soft sunlight hits her in all the right places, making her hair shimmer like honey, her skin glowing with that sun kissed look she always seems to have.
She’s wearing one of those oversized sweaters that barely covers her hips and a pair of ripped jeans that… fuck. That’s all it takes. She doesn’t even need to be wearing anything fancy to make my heart stutter.
For a second, I forget everything, the silence between us, the unspoken tension.
I’m just standing there, watching her, and I can’t help it.
I feel this tightness in my chest, like it’s all been building up to this moment where I can’t stop myself from wanting to reach out. To close the distance. To fix things.
But then she turns, catching sight of me from the corner of her eye.
Her face lights up for the briefest second, but then that flash of recognition flickers and is replaced by something more uncertain. She tugs at the sleeve of her sweater like she’s not sure what to do next.
And before I can even open my mouth, she waves at me, a hesitant but warm smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Timothy," she calls out, her voice like a breath of fresh air.
I take a step toward her, my heart still trying to catch up.
“Hey,” I say, voice a little too raspy. She looks beautiful, and I can’t seem to stop the words that come out. “You, uh, look great.”
She smiles again, but there’s something guarded about it. “Thanks. You too. What’s going on? You alright?”
I try to shove aside the lump in my throat. I want to tell her everything, to ask why she’s been so distant, to apologize for not figuring this out sooner. But it feels like there's an invisible line between us, one that keeps pulling tighter with every second I stand here.
“I’m good,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just... grabbing some lunch.”
She glances over at her friend, and I follow her gaze. That’s when I really see the woman standing beside her. Tall, with sharp features and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’s holding a coffee cup, but there’s a knowing look in her gaze when she looks me over.
"This is Olivia," Ivy says, motioning toward her friend with a small smile. “Olivia, this is Timothy. He’s, uh…” She glances at me, like she's unsure of what to say next. "He’s one of the tattoo artists at Ink & Iron."
Olivia’s grin stretches wider. “Ah, the infamous Timothy,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Nice to meet you.”
Okay, so she knows everything…
"I, uh..." I start, but Olivia’s already laughing, cutting me off with another smirk.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite. It’s just good to meet one of you, is all.”
Ivy shifts uncomfortably, a flush creeping up her neck as she looks at Olivia. “Okay, really?”
Olivia laughs again, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “What? It’s fine. We’re all adults here.”
Ivy bites her lip, then turns back to me, her expression a mix of amusement and something more. Her smile falters, and she opens her mouth to say something, but she stops herself.
I look down at the sidewalk, not sure how to respond. This is weird. It isn’t answering any of my questions. I need to get away.
“I should get going,” I finally say, my voice quieter than I intended. “Lunch break and all.”
“Yeah,” Ivy replies, her voice soft. “I’ll... see you around, Timothy.”
It’s not an invitation, and it’s not a goodbye either. It’s just the kind of thing you say when you don’t know how to say what you really mean.
I nod, feeling like a damn idiot. “Yeah. See you.”
I stuff my hands into my pockets, feeling the weight of the silence hanging in the air behind me. As I walk, my mind starts to drift, and I can’t help but think about all the times Freddie, Mitchell, and I have tangled with the same woman.
It’s never been complicated before.
Hell, it was the opposite.
We’d meet someone, a woman who was into us, and we’d all agree, it’d be fun, a one time thing. We’d share her, no strings attached, no one getting hurt. It was simple. Just a casual thing. And it worked. Every damn time.
But with Ivy... things feel different. There’s more at stake now. I can feel it in my bones. And that messes with everything I thought I knew about myself, about us.
Could we do it here? Could we make this work with her?
I think back to those nights, the laughs we shared afterwards, the comfort in knowing everything was just what it was, no pressure.
But Ivy is different. There’s no denying that.
She’s not some nameless face in the crowd. She’s not someone we’ll forget after a few weeks. There’s something about her. Something that pulls us all in and makes the rules we’ve lived by feel... shaky.
But could it be worth it?
I think that’s something I definitely need to figure out.