Kieran #2
He’d shifted in his seat. He was leaning forward now, with his elbow on the table and his chin resting in his hand. He blinked, sweeping his long, dark eyelashes over his eyes for a brief moment as the corner of his mouth turned up just the tiniest bit.
“I didn’t think it was weird.”
It was the least enlightening or helpful statement possible. But the way he was looking at me, like I was the amusing result of some lab experiment, was freaking me out so I couldn’t stand for him to elaborate. After hurriedly pulling my combat boots up over my jeans, I fled toward the front door.
“Bye, Kieran.” His farewell statement, laced with something I could only interpret as smug and knowing, had my hand clenching on the door so hard my knuckles turned white.
After jamming the keys into the ignition of my old Chevy pickup, it rumbled to life around me.
I twisted the knob on the radio, tuned to a classic rock station, cranking up the volume in hopes it would drown out my racing thoughts.
Sucking in a deep breath, I yanked at the gearshift to pull out of the driveway and get as far away from him as reasonably possible.
HOURS LATER, ONCE I’d escaped the oppressive aura of Jordy’s strange behavior, I could convince myself I was just being paranoid.
No matter how drunk I’d gotten, there was no way I’d say or do anything incriminating to him.
I’d worked too hard to keep my feelings for him a secret.
And for way too long to have screwed it all up in just one night.
“Keep this on for at least an hour or two,” I said, carefully adhering a Dri-Loc pad onto the arm of the woman I’d just finished tattooing. “It should soak up any blood or excess ink.”
I paused my instructional speech, the one I’d done hundreds of times to the point I could recite it in my sleep, to let her gush about the tattoo some more.
It was a portrait of her beloved black lab puppy.
Nothing particularly challenging, at least not for me.
I wasn’t an expert in every art style yet, but I’d done a lot of portrait work.
I was young to be in the industry, but my drawing skills were phenomenal and I’d started my apprenticeship at 17. You know the weird, quiet kid in class that would always be in the back corner drawing instead of paying attention to the teacher? That kid was me.
“It looks even better than I imagined,” she said. I wasn’t surprised to hear her voice getting a little watery. Tattoos could be an emotional experience for some, especially when it was something meaningful.
“I’m glad it’s what you wanted,” I answered, pulling off my gloves and tossing them into the nearby trash can.
It was a good thing to have a happy client, but excessive praise always made me feel a little uncomfortable.
I wasn’t used to it. And I wasn’t all that great at socializing to begin with.
“Once you take the pad off, wash the area with a gentle antibacterial soap.”
I made it through the rest of the speech, even though we had all the aftercare instructions printed on a sheet of paper we’d sent the clients out with. Just an extra precaution.
As I rang her up at the front counter, handing over the little device so she could choose her own tip, I dropped a card in front of her.
“And this is where you can reach me if you want to set up another session, or if you have any questions.” The card had my name along with the logo for the shop, Royal Ink, with my phone number, email and Instagram handle underneath. She picked it up, her eyebrow raising as she looked it over.
“Any questions?” She asked, leaning forward toward the counter flirtatiously. I wasn’t totally surprised by this tonal shift. She’d been tossing not-so-subtle hints that she found me attractive since I’d walked her back into my little area and put her in the chair. “Like if you’re single or not?”
I suppressed a sigh. I couldn’t afford to alienate any potentially returning clients, being that I wasn’t exactly a veteran artist. But this part was always so awkward.
For one thing, I wasn’t attracted to women.
For another, I didn’t hook up with betas.
I didn’t have anything against them or alphas who did, but I just couldn’t get into it.
Omegas were special. One omega in particular was the most special.
“Keep it tattoo related, please,” I requested, injecting my words with a huge dose of what I hoped was friendly and totally not personal rejection.
She sighed, thankfully not sounding offended. “I knew there was no way you’d be single.”
I forced an apologetic smile on my face, but didn’t correct her. She left the shop, giving me a little wave as she sailed through the door. Crisis averted.
Back in my little personal area, I grabbed some disinfecting wipes from the pop-up container and started wiping everything down. I’d barely started when I heard footsteps behind me.
Barbara Vinson, also known as Barbie, was my boss and mentor. Her name was ultra ironic, considering she was, without a doubt, the least Barbie-like woman I knew. She’d taken me on as an apprentice, and I’d shadowed her for over a year before actually putting ink on anyone’s skin.
She was also an alpha. Not that I’d needed or wanted the birds and bees talk, but it was kind of nice to know at least one adult who shared my designation. My own parents were betas, and so was Chester, Jordy’s dad. They tried, but they didn’t have a clue of what it could be like for me.
“Pretty good one, kid,” she commented, leaning her hip against the jamb of the door.
She had the annoying habit of calling me a kid but I usually let it slide because as far as she knew, I practically was one.
But I hadn’t felt like a kid since the first time my father had knocked the shit out of me for accidentally spilling his beer when I was seven.
“I wasn’t sure how it’d turn out considering you came in here looking like you got hit by a truck. ”
I snorted. I might have been hungover, but I could still handle my machine.
“Thanks. I have another client coming in 30 but after that I can take walk-ins if I need to.”
“Probably won’t need to,” she answered, plopping down into a seat.
She ran a hand through her short, spiky hair, currently dyed a radioactive shade of red.
She had a very specific style, with lots of leather and piercings and dark makeup.
Today, her vest was covered in vintage pins that said stuff like punch nazis and resist to exist. And the shop was decorated in old school punk era signage.
“Henry’s hanging around so he’ll take whoever comes in. ”
“Okay.”
I kept cleaning and setting up my station for the next person coming in, but she didn’t say anything else or leave. I wasn’t surprised when, after a little bout of silence, she spoke again.
“Everything good with you? You’ve seemed kind of out of it the last couple of weeks.”
Clearing my throat a little, I kept my eyes on what I was doing. I appreciated her concern, and I had a great deal of respect for her, but there was no way in hell I could be honest.
Jordy had graduated from high school three weeks earlier.
I probably seemed off because I felt like I was going insane in my own house.
Between having to avoid staring at him lounging around in little shorts all day and making up jealous scenarios in my head whenever I noticed he was texting someone, I couldn’t relax.
But I only had to endure it until the start of fall semester.
I could handle that. I’d handled a lot worse.
“I’m good. Just got a little too fucked up last night. It won’t happen again.”
“Alright,” she said, giving a little shrug.
While my back was turned, she rolled the chair over to the other side of the room and started rifling through the personal stuff I had on the table.
She was always doing crap like that, but I didn’t mind much.
It was her shop, anyway. I was pretty sure no one else would have taken a chance on me like she had, so I owed her a lot.
“I’m always amazed at how talented you are,” she commented. When I looked back, I saw she was flipping through one of my sketchbooks. Between clients when I didn’t have anything else to do, I would usually just draw. “Wow, this guy is in here a lot. Is he your boyfriend?”
Fuck. I’d forgotten that there were tons of sketches of Jordy in that one. I couldn’t risk doing it at home and getting caught, so I kept it here.
“No,” I answered quickly, then furrowed my brow. “Why would you think that?”
Barbie shrugged. “I don’t know, just the way you draw him.
It’s tender, like you really find all his features beautiful.
” Of course I found his features beautiful.
He was the prettiest person in the entire fucking world.
And probably the most unobtainable. For me, at least. “And you never reciprocate when the customers flirt with you. Even the cute omegas.”
“I guess,” I acknowledged. I’d dated and screwed around a little in high school, but when it got to a point where I was secretly comparing every potential boyfriend to him, I figured it was less cruel for everyone involved to avoid it altogether.
“It’s funny to imagine someone as prickly as you being so smitten,” she added, smirking a bit.
“But I can see why you might be, with this one,” she added, tapping a particularly detailed drawing I’d done of him in the gym outfit he’d always worn for running track.
The school-provided shorts were already small, but he’d usually roll up the waistband two or three times when he put them on, making it even worse.
His smooth, bare thighs were basically imprinted in my brain, a horny jumpscare that popped up when I closed my eyes.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I reiterated, embarrassed. And he absolutely never would be.
“Did I offend you?” She wondered, looking at me a bit oddly.
“Nah, I wasn’t offended,” I said. “It’s just…
” My mind scrambled a bit, trying to think of a good lie.
It’s just that I could get in a lot of trouble for being obsessed with my younger stepbrother.
“He’s just a character. I was thinking about maybe starting a webcomic and I was playing with designs for the main character. ”
“Oh,” she said. I could tell by her tone of voice that she’d bought it. I felt minimally guilty about lying directly to her face but that couldn’t really be helped. “Well, it’s a great design. You nailed it, like always.”
“Thanks.”
I nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she snapped the book closed and placed it back on the desk. Hoping the rest of the day would go without issues or chaotic events, I went back to prepping the space for my next client.