9. Katerina
Chapter nine
Katerina
I’m trying to decide which is stranger: the hum of leftover adrenaline in my body or the sudden shift in Nico’s shop from purposeful tattooing space to impromptu party zone. Maybe both.
Lexi, of course, is the mastermind behind turning a casual after-ink celebration into a full-blown game night.
She practically leaps onto a nearby sofa, well-worn and cushioned with mismatched throws, and brandishes a deck of cards she apparently had in her bag.
Or maybe Nico produced it from behind the counter.
I honestly can’t track the chain of events.
All I know is the music changes. A faster playlist crackles through the speakers, some old funk with a heavy bass line, and multiple seltzers or beers or mini bottles of something appear in people’s hands.
A single overhead light is still shining on the two tattoo chairs in the corner, but the rest of the shop feels darker now, more intimate.
The table that held the needle setups is cleared away, replaced by a half circle of chairs.
I’m perched on a rolling stool, sipping an iced seltzer because I can’t imagine adding more alcohol to my bloodstream.
My wrist still tingles under the protective bandage.
That alone is enough new sensation for one night.
But Lexi insists on dealing me in, and somehow I’m elbow-to-elbow with Sofia, who’s leaning into Casey.
They keep howling with laughter at every new card drawn.
Bex stands across from me, leaning on the workbench, arms folded.
Her gaze drifts occasionally to the group, but she’s not really paying attention to the rules.
I can tell she’s idly listening, half-smiling in that way that means she’s letting everyone else have the spotlight.
I keep noticing how her forearms look when she folds them, the lines of fresh ink peeking out from under her sleeves.
Or the scratch near her wrist that I glimpsed earlier.
It’s absurd that I can’t concentrate on anything else.
The entire table might combust from Lexi’s jokes, and all I can do is replay the feel of Bex’s hand on my arm as that needle buzzed.
I reclassify this fixation as a side effect of adrenaline. Possibly that’s convincing to absolutely no one.
“Okay, new round,” Lexi declares, flipping a card. “Whoever draws the highest has to do a dare.”
A general wave of drunken agreement passes around the circle. Skye lifts an eyebrow at me, as if to say, “Is this wise?” She does so with a grin, though, which means she’s caving to peer pressure just like the rest of us.
We pass cards. I get a six. Sofia gets a nine. Bex draws a two. Lexi, the ringmaster, flips over a queen for herself, cackling in triumph. Casey reveals a jack, Skye a four. Then we check the suits. Something about hearts or spades, I’m not entirely sure. The rules keep shifting.
Eventually, the dares roll out. Lexi makes Sofia impersonate herself at a wedding planning meeting, which devolves into a comedic meltdown that has me half-wheezing from laughter.
Skye texts an ex from college some vague line about “remember that time in the dog park?”, which we collectively decide is cryptic enough to spark confusion.
Casey attempts to recite the Greek alphabet backward in under ten seconds and makes it to psi before collapsing.
The shop dissolves into chaotic amusement, with Nico drifting in and out, occasionally contributing a new track to the playlist or sipping from a can of sparkling water.
I let some of the tension drain from my shoulders.
My heart still beats fast, but I force myself to laugh along, to settle into the improbable comfort of this night.
Then Lexi decides the game needs a spinner. She rummages around and emerges with a half-empty bottle of hot sauce, clearly rummaged from Nico’s breakroom. She sets it in the middle of our circle.
Her grin is borderline diabolical. “We spin and see who the dare is for, or who has to do the dare with whom. Everyone on board?”
A collective “Yes!” surges, though quietly, because some of us realize this could get messy.
First spin: it lands pointing from Sofia to Casey, so Lexi dares them to do some silly phone challenge. Nothing too scandalous. We laugh, Casey does it, we cheer. Next spin points from Skye to Lexi. Another round of comedic nonsense. Someone belts out half a karaoke tune.
I’m only half engaged, eyes flicking occasionally to the open doorway that leads to the street. The night breeze sneaks in, swirling around my ankles. The city outside is still awake, probably. The group is content inside this pocket of irreverence.
And then the hot sauce bottle spins again. This time faster, the glass scraping across the wooden floor in an uneven circle. I have a moment of absolute clarity where I think, No, that’s going to land on me.
And it does.
It slows to a halt, its neck pointing from me toward Bex.
I freeze.
Lexi, never one to hesitate, slaps a palm on the floor. “Yes! Perfect!” She throws a gleeful look between the two of us, eyes shining. “Kit, Bex. Your dare is to share a real kiss.”
The entire room bursts into half-laugh, half-shout mode. My pulse spikes so sickeningly hard I wonder if I’ll faint. I let out a choked laugh, glancing around for an immediate exit strategy.
Sofia’s eyebrows jump, but she doesn’t look shocked.
That might be the bigger shock to me. Casey holds her camera, momentarily uncertain if it’s polite to film.
Skye seems torn between awkwardness and curiosity.
Nico stands near the corner, quietly sipping their drink, eyes flicking between me and Bex with a faint, knowing look.
I turn to Bex. She’s… watching me. She’s not making a big gesture or a comedic eye-roll or a flippant comment. She’s just waiting, posture relaxed, eyes steady.
The adrenaline that’s been hovering in my bloodstream all night surges. My mind scrambles: we can deflect, laugh it off, stage some cheek peck. That’s what we’d normally do, right? Ha ha, very funny, next dare.
But Bex’s gaze is neutral. She’s not mocking. She’s letting me decide.
I swallow. The rest of the group is chanting something. Lexi is calling, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” The commotion is half comedic, half genuine.
Yes, we can let it pass. No one’s forcing us. But I realize my heart is pounding with a literal question: do I want to?
The answer is a swift, internal Yes.
So I lean forward, moving off my stool, pressing my palms to the floor so I can shift onto my knees. It’s an awkward maneuver, but the rest of the circle parts enough for me to reach Bex. She sits up straighter, eyes flicking to my face.
I huff a tiny breath, aiming for a casual laugh that turns into a shaky exhale.
She’s warm, close. We hesitate in that half-second of comedic tension.
Then I brush my fingertips along her jaw, an impulse that’s definitely not part of the usual bachelorette joke.
A hush falls, an anticipatory one. She angles closer.
My lips find hers.
It’s not a peck.
Her mouth is soft, parted in surprise or invitation, I can’t tell.
I register the faint taste of the seltzer she’s been drinking, a metallic tang under the city’s leftover spice in the air.
We don’t rush. Her hand comes up, resting lightly on my shoulder.
The contact is a slow, measured slide, as if to say, We can stay right here for one more second.
A thousand halted thoughts crash in my head.
This is a dare. This is not a dare. Our lips move again.
I can’t hear the group. Maybe they’re laughing or shouting or filming; I have no idea.
All I sense is the warmth of Bex’s breath, the slight tilt of her head, the part where my stomach twists in something that’s not fear.
Finally, we draw back. The crowd noise flares to life, a collective cheer that rattles the windows.
My face burns. I duck my head, regaining my balance on the floor. I can’t bring myself to look Bex in the eye again just yet, so I return to the stool in a sort of daze.
Lexi whoops, “Yes, girls, that was amazing!” and topples into Sofia. Sofia is giving me a grin that suggests she’s known something was up for quite some time. Casey is laughing, flustered. Skye is bright red. Nico, from the corner, simply claps slowly, their eyes twinkling.
Bex clears her throat, picks up her half-empty drink, and pours a fresh measure of whatever. She takes the kind of long sip that usually signals someone processing quietly.
I swallow a thousand words that want to come out in a jumbled mess. Instead, I stare at the table, willing my cheeks to cool. My lips tingle.
For a moment, everything else is overshadowed: the tattoos, the game, the music. My mind replays exactly how Bex’s mouth felt, how her breath slowed, how her hand curved around my shoulder.
I sense her shifting, see the end of that moment in my peripheral vision as she sets her drink down.
I want to catch her eyes, just to see if she’s as rattled as I am.
But the group is descending into new chaos.
Somebody is passing around shots of something bright pink.
There’s a toast to “Kit and Bex, the new champions of dares.”
Time warps after that. I’m pulled into a swirl of chatter, forced to laugh at new jokes. Sofia and Lexi keep shooting me conspiratorial looks. Skye cornered Bex in a conversation about something random. I can’t hear them over the music.
At one point, I catch Bex’s eye across the small circle, a fleeting glance. She doesn’t grin or wink. She just meets my gaze for half a second, serious, then tips her head as if acknowledging something. My pulse spikes again.
I have no idea how to interpret what just happened.
Eventually, the next rounds of dares revolve around ridiculous tasks.
Someone has to do a push-up for every letter of the alphabet, someone else must wear Nico’s bandana as a blindfold.
The rest of the room feels lighter, though I notice Sofia giving me a smug, borderline sisterly look, like she’s proud or validated.
I can’t muster a coherent explanation. Instead, I laugh when the group laughs, and try not to stare at Bex too openly.
Bex mostly deflects attention, which is consistent with how she’s always handled things.
She steps behind the workbench for a moment, rummages for a bottle of water.
She teases Nico about their choice of music.
She half-joins the card game again. All standard Bex things, except there’s a subtle tension around her shoulders.
Once, she tugs that scratch near her wrist absentmindedly, as if it’s itching.
We don’t talk.
We don’t have to.
Eventually, maybe an hour or two later, the vibe starts to wind down. People are tired, a bit drunk, and the shop’s air has grown stuffy from all the bodies. Nico proclaims it’s nearly midnight, and we have to vacate so they can lock up. Even Lexi concedes.
My lips still feel… used. That’s the only word I can come up with.
I slip my phone out and see half a dozen texts from Skye about tomorrow’s schedule before everyone flies out. Then I notice a new text from my mother, something about a family dinner once I’m back. It shakes me briefly from the haze, but I can’t focus on it now.
Lexi and Sofia gather up jackets. Skye helps Casey pack her camera gear. Nico waves the group to the front door. One by one, people trickle out, calling rideshares. The shop’s bright overhead bulbs click off, leaving only two lamps. The night air seeps in, carrying the faint ruckus of the city.
I realize I’m among the last still inside. I see Bex by the counter, rummaging for her own jacket. Sofia leans on her shoulder, telling her good night. Then Sofia leaves with a final wave, presumably following Lexi to the rideshare.
Nico steps out back, checking locks.
So it’s just Bex and me now, standing in the echo of everything that’s just gone down.