CHAPTER 15 #2
“Help me not do something insane,” I corrected, pointing the needle vaguely in their direction.
“Because right now, thanks to you two and your nauseatingly happy relationships, I’ve been infected with whatever disease makes a man go completely feral over a girl.
And if you don’t distract me, there’s a solid chance I’ll end up on Ophelia’s doorstep with a marriage proposal and a matching set of handcuffs. ”
Jace grinned, leaning back like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week. “So the solution is…letting you stab us?”
“Temporary insanity requires extreme measures,” I said seriously, lining up the ink bottles like I was preparing for surgery. “One tiny tattoo each. Team solidarity. Bleeding for a brother. Take your pick of inspirational slogans.”
Parker groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re out of your damn mind.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Which is why we need to start immediately.”
Jace looked from me to Parker, then down at the buzzing needle. “You know,” he said, grinning, “I’ve done dumber things for friendship.”
“That’s true.” I nodded as I tested the pedal. The motor buzzed to life with a whine that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
Parker held up both hands like I was wielding a chainsaw instead of a needle. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know…practice on a banana first or something?”
I squinted at him. “How’s stabbing a piece of fruit gonna help me tattoo a human?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I don’t know. I just read that somewhere.” There was an edge of panic in my QB’s voice.
Before I could reply, Jace plopped down right in front of me, rolling up his sleeve with the kind of enthusiasm that only comes when you’re about to make a bad decision.
“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning like a man with nothing left to lose. “I’ll be your banana, Matty.”
I ignored the clear innuendo in that statement as I set up the supplies like I’d been doing this for years: wipes in a neat row, gloves ready, paper towels fluffed, alcohol on hand.
“I would just like to state for the record that this qualifies me for bestilicious friend number one today,” he announced confidently.
I glanced up at him and then over at Parker. “Last I checked, Parker didn’t make me go on a date with someone who wanted to use my bones to flavor her soup. It might take awhile for you to slip back into that number one role, buddy.”
Jace scowled, looking offended. “It’s just a per se ranking anyway,” he muttered. “And that seems like a compliment by the way, that she would want your bones in her soup. I bet not everyone would qualify for that. So, I still don’t know what the big deal is anyway.”
I shivered just thinking about my dinner with Emma, ignoring the weird thought I’d just had that I’d be okay with Ophelia saying something like that to me.
I pressed the pedal again to distract myself from whatever weirdness had taken over my brain.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Born ready,” Jace said, which is Jace-speak for I will do this and then pretend it hurt a lot on purpose. It’s exactly the kind of bravado that makes him lovable and mildly terrifying.
I stared at the little sheet of stencils that came with the kit. “Too bad there’s not a llama,” I mused.
“Um, you know what? It might be better to start off with something simpler. Although, I do appreciate you finally acknowledging our group name,” Jace commented, rifling through the paper.
“But also, if you think I’m letting you do a face or anything larger than a quarter, you are out of your mind,” Parker said, sounding very serious.
“Relax,” I said, continuing to pick through the stencils. “I’m not about to etch your senior portrait on your arm, Parker. I’m thinking something classy. Timeless. Like…a lightning bolt. Or a tiny football. Or, ooh—” I grinned. “A heart with my initials.”
Jace cackled at that one. “Hell yes, brand me, Daddy.”
My smirk fell. “Never say that again.”
There was only one person who was allowed to call me Daddy…and she was unavailable right now.
Jace just waggled his eyebrows like he was going to think it even if he couldn’t say it.
Parker sank farther into the couch. “What about a dot…or an invisible line?”
Jace snorted as he rummaged through the stencil pile. “A minimalist piece. Very avant-garde. We can call it The Absence of Pain.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not even going to ask where you learned the word avant-garde.”
“It’s probably some weird sex thing,” Parker muttered, glancing at his live stream again like he was thinking of a weird sex thing right then as he stared at Casey.
Ugh. Don’t think about sex.
“I’ve got it!” Jace suddenly announced, his eyes lighting up like he’d just solved world peace. “NDL!”
Parker blinked. “What’s an NDL?”
Jace shot him a look. “The No Drama Llamas, of course…Where’s that big brain of yours, Parkie-poo?” he asked sarcastically.
I shook my head. “We still have never agreed on that name,” I reminded him.
Jace waved me off like that was a minor technicality. “Yeah, well, I’m the leader of the group, so my vote counts more. It’s catchy, it’s ours, and it’s gonna look badass in all caps.”
Parker and I both snorted at the same time.
He glared between us. “What?”
Parker lifted a brow. “Leader of what, exactly?”
“The group!” Jace said, gesturing around like it was obvious. “The vibe. The brotherhood. The brand.”
I leaned back, smirking. “Pretty sure the last time we let you lead, we ended up banned from an Applebee’s.”
“That was a misunderstanding,” he shot back. “And everyone gets banned from Applebee’s at some point. It’s just something that happens.”
Parker’s head whipped toward him. “I’ve literally never heard that.”
He pointed at me triumphantly. “See? I’m the leader because I hear things. This group would be nothing without me.”
“We definitely wouldn’t be the No Drama Llamas,” I agreed.
Jace grinned, clearly taking that as a win instead of the insult it was. “Exactly. You’re welcome. Now let’s make it official.”
Before Parker or I could say anything else, Jace held up his arm like it was about to get knighted. “Alright, Adler. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”
Then he started…breathing. Weird, exaggerated, labor-breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth, shoulders rising and falling.
Parker stared. “You’re not about to give birth, you know.”
Jace glared up at him mid-inhale. “It’s called pain management, Parker. Maybe look it up before you start judging.”
Parker blinked. “Pretty sure you stole that from a prenatal yoga video.”
Jace ignored him, switching to short, loud exhales that sounded like he was trying to blow out birthday candles on a deadline. “Women obviously know what they’re doing, so of course I’m going to try their techniques,” he explained between puffs.
I grabbed a wipe and cleaned the spot on his arm. “That actually makes sense,” I mused.
“This isn’t the first time that I’ve said this,” he said, eyes squeezed shut like he was summoning inner peace—or a demon, “but I’m not sure why you always seem so shocked when I say smart things.”
Parker and I exchanged another look.
Jace cracked one eye open and caught us. “I see that look,” he said, his voice muffled through his steady breathing. “And I’m choosing to ignore it because that’s what leaders do.”
I tried to keep a straight face as I snapped on my gloves and Jace’s shoulders tensed immediately.
“Okay,” he said, his voice rising slightly, “maybe just count me down so I know when it’s happening.”
“Sure,” I said. “Three—”
The needle hadn’t even touched him yet before he sucked in a huge, dramatic breath, his whole body locking up like he was bracing for impact.
“Two,” I continued, fighting a laugh.
“Wait, wait, wait, I wasn’t ready—”
I pressed the pedal. The needle hit skin with a sharp buzz.
Jace yelped. “OH MY GOSH, WHY DID YOU LIE?”
Parker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “If he passes out, I’m calling Riley.”
“Shut up,” Jace muttered, glaring at him.
Jace was covered in tattoos already. I suddenly felt bad for every artist who’d had to deal with this level of chaos while holding a needle.
He gritted his teeth, breathing like a man in labor again. “Okay, okay—this is fine. Totally fine. Pain is weakness leaving the body.”
“That’s what they say,” Parker agreed.
“Don’t distract the artist,” Jace hissed, though his voice came out about an octave higher than normal.
I smirked, focusing on the line. “Almost done.”
“Don’t say ‘almost done’!” he yelped. “That’s code for ‘something worse is coming’!”
I bit back a laugh, keeping my wrist steady. The tattoo gun buzzed steadily while Jace alternated between whimpering and pep-talking himself like he was running a marathon through a haunted house.
“Breathe,” I said calmly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like your pregnancy classes taught you.”
“I AM brEATHING!” he practically screamed with wild eyes. “I AM THE WOMAN!”
That was it. I lost it. My shoulders shook as I tried not to laugh directly into his arm.
“NDL for life, baby,” he groaned, sweat beading at his temple. “No drama…only llamas…”
“Done,” I said, finally lifting the needle and wiping the fresh ink clean.
He blinked, chest still heaving. “That’s it?”
I nodded. “That’s it.”
A slow grin crept across his face. “I didn’t even cry.”
“Are you sure about that?” Parker asked, pushing his sleeve up as he sat down next to me.
Jace ignored him, twisting his arm to admire the crooked, slightly uneven NDL scrawled in black. “That’s beautiful,” he breathed reverently.
I set the machine down. “You’re welcome,” I said, feeling oddly proud.
Parker sighed as he offered me his arm.
Jace grinned, already leaning forward like an overexcited coach. “That’s my boy.”
“Less commentary, more disinfectant,” Parker muttered, though he didn’t pull away.
I grinned, snapping on a new pair of gloves. “At least one of you knows how to commit without screaming.”
Jace crossed his arms. “I was expressing emotion, Adler. It’s called range.”
“Of course,” I said, cleaning the spot on Parker’s arm. The machine buzzed to life again. Parker didn’t even flinch. His jaw stayed locked, eyes fixed ahead, calm and steady while I worked.
It took less than two minutes. When I lifted the needle and wiped the skin clean, the fresh NDL sat there…smooth, straight, and way too perfect compared to Jace’s.
Jace immediately leaned in. “Why is his straight?”
“Because he didn’t twitch like a toddler on Nerds Gummies,” I said, glancing down at my arm and wondering how I was going to do myself.
Jace was still scowling. “This is favoritism. Pure and simple. I demand a do-over.”
“No do-overs,” I said firmly, capping the ink bottle. “That’s not how tattoos work. Or life.”
Parker flexed his arm once, examining the mark with a nod. “It’s fine. Small. Subtle. And if anyone asks, I’ll say it's a reminder not to let idiots with impulse-buys near my skin.”
“Fair,” I murmured, grabbing a fresh wipe. “My turn.”
Jace's eyes widened. “Wait, you’re gonna tattoo yourself?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my pulse kicked up. “How hard can it be? It’s just three letters.”
Parker leaned back, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “Famous last words. You sure you don’t want one of us to—”
“Nah,” I cut him off, snapping on new gloves. “I’ve got this. Besides, if I screw it up, it’s on me. Literally.”
Jace hopped up and circled around like a hype man at a boxing match. “Okay, but if you pass out or start bleeding everywhere, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Thatcher,” I muttered, opening the bottle again, and dipping the needle into the ink. I pressed the pedal, testing the buzz against the air one last time. My hand hovered over my skin, steady...ish.
Deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Jace’s pregnancy breathing might’ve been onto something.
The needle touched down on my forearm, and—holy shit—that sting was sharper than I expected. Like a cat scratching with fire claws. I gritted my teeth, forcing my wrist to move in a straight line. N...D... L.
It wasn’t pretty. The lines wobbled a bit, like Jace’s had, and the L came out a little thicker than planned. But there it was: NDL etched into my skin forever.
I lifted the machine, wiping away the excess ink. “Done.”
Jace whistled, leaning in close. “Not bad, Adler. Kinda crooked, but in a charming, ‘I did this while lovesick’ way.”
Parker nodded approvingly. “Solid effort. Now, wrap it up before we all get infections.”
I glanced down at my own tattoo, hoping it wasn’t already too late for that. The skin was red around the edges, and the crooked NDL looked like it had been done by a sleep-deprived caveman. Which, to be fair, wasn’t far off.
“Are you thinking about the fact that we’re blood brothers now since we just shared a needle?” Jace asked, far too casually for someone who should’ve been panicking.
I looked up slowly. “I wasn’t thinking about that, actually.”
Parker looked a little green as he tipped his head back against the couch. “Fantastic. Can’t wait to explain to the trainer why we are showing up with matching infections and a team name that sounds like a preschool craft circle.”
Jace just grinned, admiring his arm like it was a masterpiece. “No Drama Llamas, baby. We suffer together.”
I smiled weakly at that thought. I felt like I was suffering already.
The adrenaline was wearing off fast, leaving behind the itchiness that I’d had the second Ophelia had run away last night. I guess for at least a few minutes the noise in my head had gone still.
But as the buzz of the machine faded, the ache crept back in. The wanting. The restlessness.
Now, all I had to do was survive the night and pray she wouldn’t think it was weird if she saw me “accidentally” lingering outside her dorm at six a.m.
Because honestly? I wasn’t sure I could make it that long.
I glanced at Jace. “Want to let me do another one?”