18. Archer
Chapter 18
Archer
“Shirt off.” I noted the way his eyes flashed when I told him what to do. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just want to see my canvas. I have to know what I’m working with.”
Shane unbuttoned his shirt—God, I loved that he wore so many button-downs—and took it off. The bulk of Shane’s tattoos so far were on his forearms. He had a complete half sleeve on the left arm, and a mostly finished half sleeve on the right. His left arm was a collection of tattoos that gave off fantasy vibes. Swords and swirling colors that looked like magic. As it moved up his arm, the design morphed into something more galactic. The rings of Saturn were hard to miss.
The right arm was dedicated to flora and fauna. Flowers and bees and a badass dragonfly adorned Shane’s skin.
“Are you a ‘this tattoo represents this specific memory’ type of a person?” I asked him.
“Mostly I get tattoos because I like them and I have the money. What about you?” Shane asked, eyeing the transformer on my forearm.
“A mix of both. Some I got because you can’t get a tattoo from a guy who doesn’t have any tattoos. And some I got because they mean shit. Now show me that gorgeous back of yours.”
Shane arched an eyebrow at me, but did as instructed, shifting in his seat to offer me a better view .
“Relax, I’m not going to tattoo your whole back.” I traced my fingers down his spine and smiled when he shivered. “Though it is tempting. All this naked skin.”
Gently, my fingertips mapped the slope of his shoulder and moved down his bicep. “I have a lot to work with. How big did you want to go?”
“What were you thinking?”
“I have a million ideas, but maybe something that sits on your shoulder blade and sort of wraps overtop or around your arm or something. Or there’s a little space on your flora and fauna sleeve. I could fill in a little spider there for you.”
“No spiders.” Shane shuddered.
“So no tarantula on your back? That’s a shame.” I dragged my fingers down his spine again, following the curve down to the top of his pants. and along that stretch of soft skin. “What about a tramp stamp?”
A laugh roared out of him. “I don’t think so.” He turned his head to look back at me. “Not a permanent one anyway.”
“Oooh. A temporary tramp stamp. I could be down with that. Or I could get those tattoo markers and draw one on you myself.”
Shane looked like he wanted me to pin him to the floor and fuck him stupid right then. I wasn’t entirely against the idea.
The idea of marking him, temporarily or otherwise, appealed to my dick. I was so hard I could pound nails. I reached for him, intending to kiss him silly, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I let out a sigh. “I have to get this.”
Now that I was trying to get my shop off the ground again, I could ill afford to ignore any calls in favor of hooking up with Shane. I wanted him to see how serious I was about this.
But it wasn’t a client. “It’s Cyrus. Maybe I don’t have to get it. ”
“Answer your call, Archer.”
I huffed out a sigh and did the grown-up thing. “Hey, Cy. What’s up?”
“I brought your mail.”
I had half a mind to tell him to leave it down in the bar and I’d get it when I was done with Shane. Instead I told him I’d be right down.
“How about you let me come up? I haven’t seen the space yet.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come let you in. Be right there.”
By the time I was ending the call and getting to my feet, Shane was redressing. Much to my dismay.
“If you think this is going to get you out of the whole tramp stamp thing, think again, because it’s happening.”
“I don’t think I can get out of here without Cyrus seeing me.” Shane stood, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. His nervousness was endearing, but unnecessary.
“You’re here for a tattoo consult. You don’t have to hide.” I reached for him and batted his hands away. He watched me as I re-buttoned his shirt. I wished that he didn’t have to hide at all. That we didn’t have to sneak around behind Cyrus’s back, but it wasn’t like Cyrus approved of any of the decisions I’d ever made. To him, this would be another screw-up in my long line of screw-ups.
“I’ll go let him up.” Before Shane could argue, I was out the door and thundering down the stairs. It made me happy that Cyrus didn’t have free access to the upstairs. There was no way we’d get accidentally discovered if we were upstairs in a compromising position. Not that it should matter if we were together.
Suddenly grumpy, I pushed the back door open and Cyrus stepped inside. “Shane’s truck is in the lot, but I had a look around the bar. He’s not there. ”
“He’s upstairs. We were talking about his next tattoo.” I grabbed my stack of mail from Cyrus and headed up the stairs. “Thanks for bringing this by.”
“Well, I thought you might invite me up to see the place, but I had to invent an excuse to come.”
Rolling my eyes, I opened the door to my apartment slash studio. “You could just drop by to say hello. You don’t need an excuse.”
Shane was sitting on the couch flipping through a binder of my work like he was actually seriously considering each piece and how it might look on his skin.
“See anything you like?” The question had the desired effect on Shane, though I doubted Cyrus noticed the way his boss ducked his gaze to avoid mine or the slash of color suddenly rising on his cheeks.
“There’s some killer work in here.”
“The place looks great,” Cyrus said, taking himself on a tour of the space. “Are these new?” He pointed to the moths that I’d drawn and framed. I’d done a variety of species all in black. Some had subtle shading in color.
“I did those recently, yeah.” What I didn’t say was that I did them while I was avoiding his house as much as possible. I’d drawn most of them while sitting in the park or the library. “When I was between shops, I had time to work on new pieces.”
That was an understatement. I had entire sketchbooks filled with rough ideas. The moths were some of the pieces that I’d refined and had stuck in frames. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever tattoo them on anyone. They were the things I’d been working on the day I met Shane. The fact that I was a sentimental idiot wasn’t lost on me. The moths felt like they belonged to us and not to the rest of the world. But Shane didn’t know that .
“I never thought much about getting a tattoo done, but these moths are really nice. Maybe you’d tattoo one for me.”
Immediate no. Absolutely not. I bit back my kneejerk reaction, though, and pretended that acid wasn’t burning a hole through my stomach. “If you want something, I’ll design something for you. Maybe something with knives.”
Cyrus nodded. “That’s probably a better fit.”
“There might be something you like over in the books Shane’s looking at.” I turned my attention to the stack of envelopes I’d been clutching. It was all junk mail, not a single bill or important letter or anything. Nothing Cyrus couldn’t have chucked into the trash. He really felt like he had to make up a reason to come see me.
Guilt twisted the knife in my stomach—I’d been a shitty brother. Cyrus had taken me in and helped me when I needed him. And I’d repaid him by avoiding him as much as humanly possible.
“Hey, Cyrus, why don’t you and Marshall come over on your day off? I’ll order in and we can hang out. Maybe watch one of those movies you and Marshall love so much.”
“Are they still obsessed with The Fast and the Furious ?” Shane asked. “Say it ain’t so, Cyrus?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Paul Walker was hot. I’ll run it by Marshall, but I’m sure he’d love to come. Shane should come too. I never get to see him outside of work. It would be nice to pretend we’re real friends.”
I wasn’t sure if Cyrus’s comment had meant to pierce through the bubble of happiness that had surrounded Shane and me, but I felt it burst and had to stop myself from flinching. The last thing I wanted was for Cyrus to remind Shane that they were friends, but the damage was done.
“You can’t just invite me to other people’s shit, Cyrus,” Shane said .
“He can’t, but I can. You should come. We can order food that Cyrus doesn’t have to cook and if you come, they can’t out-vote my movie choices.”
“No one wants to see The Brave Little Toaster .”
I spun around and glared at Cyrus. “That movie is a masterpiece. Highly underrated.”
“The what?” Shane asked, humor coloring his voice.
“It’s movie from the 80s,” Cyrus said. “When we were younger, Archer had a phase where all he wanted to do was watch old movies.” Cyrus put air quotes around the word old.
“Anything produced before the year 2000 is ancient history. Besides, I haven’t made you watch that in years. The last movie I made you watch was ,*batteries not included , and you can’t tell me you hated it. You cried.”
“I haven’t seen that one,” Shane said.
“It’s these little alien robot things that help save a historical building from destruction and its residents from eviction.”
“I did not cry.” Cyrus rolled his eyes again. “And we are not watching that. Surely there’s a movie made this century that you have an interest in seeing?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “ ,*batteries not included or no deal.” I was an expert at playing the part of the bratty younger sibling to get my own way.
Shane nudged my brother. “Come on, Cyrus. It’ll be fun.”
Cyrus looked at Shane. “You suck. You are officially uninvited. Fine, we can watch your silly alien movie.” Cyrus got to his feet. “I have shit to do before the bar opens. I’ll see you downstairs, Shane.”
Cyrus clapped my shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze on the way by. Today was the first time in weeks when I’d been happy to see my brother and had actually enjoyed his company. Not living together was doing wonders for our relationship. I could tell he was trying hard not to put his nose too deep into my business and I appreciated it. Just not enough to sit through another viewing of The Fast and the Furious .
Shane got to his feet and shot me an apologetic look. “I’d like to stick around, but I should get downstairs.”
Stepping into Shane’s space, I tilted my head back and looked up at him. “Can I call you later?”
Shane leaned down and brushed his mouth against mine. “You can call me whenever you want, Archer.”
He kissed me again and it took everything I had in me not to beg him to stay.