Chapter 2
Rain pounds on the skylight and slams against the big front window of the shop.
Misty grey, miserable weather tries to crash its way inside.
The buzz of my tattoo machine drowns out the dull hum of the radio.
My client is an old-timer who’s been coming to me for a while.
I’m just adding the finishing touches to the gamer sleeve he’s commissioned.
All bright colours and retro-gaming characters.
It’s not really my aesthetic, but I have to admit, I can see the beauty in it; it looks stunning.
I wipe his arm down for the last time before snapping my gloves off and tossing them in the bin.
“There you go, mate, have a look in the mirror, and I’ll get ya’ wrapped up.” He climbs off the chair, stretching out his limbs. We’ve been at it for hours, and he wanders over to the full-length mirror.
“Fucking hell, Killian. Damn, man, you’re talented.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
I chuckle as he twists and turns, rotating his arm in all manner of weird angles to see every millimetre of detail. I take out my phone and step over to him, taking pictures and videos of the piece. The door pushes open, and the buzzer sounds. I groan. I’m supposed to be closing in half an hour.
“Bloody hell, it’s mental out there.”
The familiar voice fills the room. I smirk without looking up as I take the photos. “What ya’ doing here, Nerd?”
“Can I have a lift home?” It’s not really a question; it never is with him.
“Magic word?” I can hear him roll his eyes. He shakes off his coat and hangs it up, tossing his messenger bag onto the side of the sofa and taking a seat, wrapping himself up in the cushions.
“Pleeeeeeese.” He over exaggerates. Scott, my best mate’s little brother.
He’s twelve years younger than us and a total pain in the ass.
A proper nerd, if ever there was one. His dark brown hair is slicked to his head from the rain, and the curls at the ends have drops of water clinging to the strands.
Those thick, long lashes surrounding his big hazel eyes have always been my downfall.
His thick-rimmed black glasses frame them so perfectly, and those dimples, I’d burn the world for those dimples.
They make him look so innocent; they create an unassuming persona, but with me, he’s a cheeky fucker.
Me and his brother Steven met at secondary school and soon became best mates.
It was the first time the bullies thought twice about coming after me.
I’d been a loner until that point, making me an easy target.
Our parents became friends shortly after.
Their mum was pregnant with Scott at the time.
We used to spend loads of time together.
Steven even tried to come to the gym with me a few times, but it wasn’t for him.
It didn’t deter me, though. It was the only time we were ever apart.
We always had sleepovers and days out. Back when we were happy. Back before it all went to shit.
Their parents died in a car crash when we were twenty, and Scott was eight.
After the crash, Mum took Scott in, while Steven stayed in their family home.
We were both working here then. Steven’s a tattooist, too, a really talented one.
But since their parents died, he’s lost all his ambition.
We were gonna take over the world together; we had big plans.
Open our own shop, tour the world tattooing, attending conventions, and living the best life we could imagine.
We were young and had the world at our feet.
Then one day, they were gone, and so were our dreams. Now Steven lives mainly off his parents’ life insurance, only working a little when he can be bothered for extra cash.
We started an apprenticeship straight out of school, and I’ve never looked back. Tattooing gave me a career. Fighting gave me the money to buy the shop for myself when David, our boss and mentor, retired. I was twenty-six. Longing to build something special to be successful.
I wanted to give back to my mum, needed to make her proud.
She gave up so much to bring me up on her own and then took Scott on, too.
She never moaned. She worked two jobs to provide for us.
I craved a life that was easier for her.
I wanted to give her a secure future. So, I grafted, bought the shop over the next year, taking on any fights I could.
Jerry would bet on me to make more money.
And soon, I had more than enough. The shop was mine.
I rebranded, redecorated and built something I’m proud of.
I make good money and look after Mum. She still works part-time because she would “go batshit crazy if she didn’t work,” according to her. But now she doesn’t have to.
When Scott came to live with us, I went from being an only child to having an annoying eight-year-old almost-brother overnight.
He followed me everywhere. I couldn’t even go for a shit without that little face trying to peer through the crack in the door.
Now I know he was worried I would disappear, too.
It’s why I didn’t leave home sooner; I couldn’t bear to put him through that.
Steven changed so much after his parents’ death, becoming withdrawn, pushing me and Scott away, but I couldn’t bear to allow it so I pushed back and stuck around.
Two years ago, Scott moved in with Steven, and I decided it was time to venture out on my own.
In all honesty, I didn’t want to leave Mum on her own with a teenager.
When I bought the tattoo shop, I started doing up the upstairs flat to eventually live in.
When Scott decided to go back to the family home, I moved out, too. I still see him all the time, though.
I smile at the memories as I walk over to my station, washing my hands and wrapping my client’s arm. “Remember your aftercare,” I give him a pointed look, “and any problems, give me a ring, okay?”
“Thanks, man.” I follow him to the door and lock it behind him.
“Wanna go for dinner?” Scott’s staring at his phone as he speaks. But his smirk tells me everything.
“I suppose you’re expecting me to pay, are you, Nerd?”
He flips me off but keeps his nose buried in his phone, his grin evident; he’s at uni, so he’s not loaded. He’s been sensible with his insurance money, putting it away for his future, which also means I pick up the tab way more than I should. But he’s kinda family.
“Fine, but you pay next time.” I’m a fucking soft touch when it comes to him, and he knows it.
He smiles at me and walks over to me. “Can we go to that Chinese place. You know, the one I love?”
“Seriously? We’re going for food, not a fucking date.” I snatch my arm out, grabbing him around his neck and pulling him into my chest, scrubbing my knuckles on top of his head, messing up his hair.
“Killian,” he yells out. “Pack it in!” He shoves at me to get me off, but I squeeze harder before pushing him away and laughing.
He groans, stumbles, and glares at me before he sits on the sofa while I clean up, making sure I meticulously wipe down everything, leaving the shop immaculate for tomorrow. I grab my keys and head for the door.
“Well, are you coming or not, dickhead?”
He snatches his bag and coat and follows me out the door. He runs over to the car while I lock up.
“Killian. Open it!” He jumps up, grabbing and yanking at the handle. Laughing, I leave him standing in the rain while I fumble intentionally with the lock.
“Killian,” he yells again, and I turn and click the fob, opening the door. I jog over, and he scrambles to get in, then tries to lock the door from inside, but I’m too fast and slide into the driver’s seat. I grin at him. And he rolls his eyes at me.
After snatching off his glasses, he grumbles as he tries to dry them on his jumper, his hair damp and his lashes dark and clumped from the rain. We drive in comfortable silence. I tap along to the radio until we pull up at the restaurant.
“Table for two.” The waitress asks as we enter.
“Yes, please.” Scott rushes off after her, and I follow him to the small table at the back. He’s already sitting with the menu in his hands when I get there. I slide into the seat opposite him and pick up my own menu.
“Killian, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Nerd. What’s up?”
Scott scrunches his nose up, but he huffs out a breath, quirking the side of his mouth, making his dimple pop, and I smirk, peering over the menu at him.
“So, there’s this guy…” My heckles immediately stand up. I sit straighter and place the menu down. I don’t like this. Scott’s too kind, too trusting; he has such a pure soul; no one deserves him. I slide my hands under the table, my fists clench as I try to relax my shoulders.
“What guy?” My voice is lower than normal; that protective streak running through me. I stare at his face, barely containing the growl trying to erupt from me.
“He works in the sandwich shop near campus. He’s… He asked me out.” He keeps his eyes trained on the menu.
“What sandwich shop?” I snap.
“Killian!” he sighs. “I’m asking you a question. I don’t need you going over there. I just want to know what I should wear. I want to look… cool.”
He looks nervous, almost. This isn’t the Scott I know.
He doesn’t worry what people think about him; he dresses in what makes him comfortable.
“Dude, you’re a fucking nerd. You act like a nerd.
You look like a nerd. If he’s asked a nerd out, then he’s expecting to go on a date with a fucking nerd.
” His jaw tightens, and I blow out a breath, rolling my neck.
I rest my hands on the table. “Look, you’re special.
You’re beautiful just the way you are. He’d be lucky to have you.
You don’t have to change for anyone.” I reach over the table and take his hand, his cheeks flush as his eyes meet mine.
He stares at me, assessing my gaze before sighing. “Do you have to keep saying nerd?” He screws his nose up, but the small smile that graces the corner of his lips tells me he loves it, really.
I smirk. “If it looks like a nerd, quacks like a nerd, it’s a fucking nerd… Just be yourself, yeah.” All the seriousness evaporates for a second before he stiffens.
“Do you think he’ll like me?” He looks at me, his eyes pleading. An uncertainty I don’t like. This isn’t like him. But I tell him the truth.
“No, dude, you’re fucking annoying. Why would he?” I tug his hand so he looks at me. “All jokes aside. Just be you, okay? What’s not to love?”
He rolls his eyes and grins at his menu, the edges of his glasses slightly fogged from the warmth of the restaurant. His cheeks blush around his dimples, and I shake my head.
God, he’s too fucking cute. Even his clothes—his starched white shirt and V-neck jumper, his corduroys and Converse, coupled with his leather messenger bag in the car—complete his nerdy look.
He normally has his head buried in a book, but he’s attractive in a Clark Kent kind of way.
He’s so intelligent, funny, and kind that anyone would be lucky to have him.
And while Scott can be na?ve, I’m not, so I make a mental note to visit the surrounding sandwich shops and check this guy out.
I’m allowed to tease him. He’s family. But I refuse to let anyone hurt him.
He orders extra food and grins at me, and I know he’s done it because of my nerd remarks.
It’s kind of our vibe. We eat, and he tells me about the guy.
The more he talks, the more I hate him. This guy sounds like a right tool.
But I smile and nod while he gushes about “Sandwich Shop Guy”, but he sounds like a total loser.
After the meal wraps up, I pay, and we leave.
Scott groans and rubs his non-existent stomach, moaning about eating too much, as I pull up outside his house.
“You coming in?”
“Nah, dude, I’ll see ya soon, yeah.”
He nods, leans over, punches me in the arm, before diving out of the car, turning and running up to the house. The light flicks on, and then he spins, waving before closing the door.