Chapter 3
I slam the door shut and take my coat off, tossing it onto the radiator. My brother is in the living room gaming, and I roll my eyes. I head upstairs and jump in the shower. When I get back, I check my phone, getting giddy when I see a message from Derren, the guy from the sandwich shop.
Derren: So, you gonna let me take you out?
Scott: Maybe
Derren: Come on, don’t play hard to get
Scott: Ok. When?
Derren: I’ll let you know
Scott: When?
Scott: …
I start and delete the next message over and over before tossing my phone down and climbing into bed. I was ready to have a bit of a flirt. To chat and get to know each other better before our date, but now it feels a little flat. I stare at the ceiling.
Minutes turn into hours as I overthink the situation. Where did I go wrong? I was keen, but not too keen. I was engaging without appearing desperate. I don’t have loads of experience, but I’m no virgin, even though I’m second-guessing myself right now.
I wake up feeling rubbish. I haven’t slept, just tossing and turning all night. The piercing sound of the alarm startles me.
Fuck my life.
After rolling over, I hit the snooze button.
My eyes flutter closed. The beep rings out again.
Gasping, I open my eyes. The confusion of not being sure where I am and what time it is clouds my thoughts before I sit bolt upright.
Panic sets in; I’m going to be late. If I head to the sandwich shop like I normally would, I’ll look desperate, and the way he’s so hot and cold makes me feel confused and unworthy.
Knowing I’ll have to make myself a pathetic sandwich at home, the thought of the crap fillings I have turns my stomach and fills me with dread.
My body aches, and I check my watch and decide to forget the sandwich. Instead, I’ll take a detour to get a decent coffee at least. I’ll go to Killian’s shop. He has an amazing coffee machine, and he’ll be there early. He always is.
I throw my clothes on, snatch my bag from the bottom of the bed, and run downstairs.
Mumbled grunts and curses fill the hall.
Steven is on the sofa, gaming again. I shake my head as I bolt out the door and speed-walk down the street.
My mind keeps wandering to Derren, though.
Maybe Killian can give me some more advice.
When I get to the tattoo shop, I knock on the front window, and Killian’s face pops around the wall before he shakes his head and comes and opens the door.
“What the fuck do you want at this time in the morning?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Shut up. I need coffee.” I push past him and into the back.
When I step into the small kitchen area, I groan because I can already smell coffee.
The machine is fired up, and I slide a cup underneath, filling it up and dumping far too much sugar in before blowing it and taking a sip.
I trudge out to the main room and flop down on the sofa.
“This is amazing.”
“What’s with you? You look a state. You been up fucking all night?”
I cock a brow at him, but run my fingers through my hair, bits sticking up in all directions. I take a sip of my coffee before placing it down and rubbing my hands all over my hair, dragging my fingers through it and smoothing it down.
“Better?” I frown up at him.
“Yeah, sure.” He waves me off.
“Killian?” He sighs at the question in his name. “How do I know if someone’s not really interested?”
“Just look closely. People always show you what they want rather than tell you.”
I nod, but don’t have any idea what to do about Derren. I tug out my phone and show Killian. He stares down at it and back at me. “Dude’s a player.”
“Really? What should I do?”
“Is he hot?”
“Yes. So hot.”
“So, he’s got options. If you want some fun, go for it. If you want a relationship, run.”
“You can’t tell all that from those messages.”
“Yes, Nerd. I can.” He rolls his eyes at me as if to say, “Look at me, I’ve been there, I am that player.”
And I know he is; he’s always had a man or woman wrapped around him, a different one each time, sometimes more than one at a time. He’s never been one for labelling straight or gay to him, a fuck’s a fuck. He likes sex. He’s never been in a relationship, to my knowledge.
But he’s hot, he’s six foot four, and he gets away with it.
He’s got that brooding bad-boy look, all sexy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, a smile that could charm the pants off a nun, and a permanent five o’clock shadow.
He’s covered in sexy tattoos. The fairytale book boyfriend.
He rides a motorbike. He wears leather and denim, and he works out. A lot.
“You good over there?” His gruff voice startles me, and I slosh my coffee into my lap.
“Damn it.” I brush at my trousers, knowing I’m going to look atrocious.
“Nerd. Go upstairs and sort yourself out. You’re a mess.”
Killian lives above the shop. I wrap my fingers around my mug, heading to the door that leads to his flat.
“Spill coffee on anything and I will atomic wedgie your ass out the door. Capisce?” He grins after me.
I stare at him for a second before trudging upstairs and into his bathroom.
I look at myself in the mirror. Holy hell, I look a state.
I rummage through Killian’s products. For a guy who looks effortless, there’s a lot more stuff in his cupboards than someone that hot should need.
I pull stuff out, taking a deep inhale of all the products; they smell just like him.
Spicy and dark, maybe a little dangerous.
I run my fingers through some wax and force it into my hair, picking up his comb and teasing it through my rumpled strands.
I attempt to straighten it, but the waves are having none of it today.
I pick up some of the aftershaves, they all have a similar smell: that rugged, savage biker smell—leather and spice—it’s intoxicating.
I spray a little around me and then pick up the towel, running the corner under the tap and rubbing at the coffee stain on my trousers.
Great, it now looks like I’ve pissed myself, I internally complain. Never mind, it will dry. I pick up my coffee and click the light off, and wander back downstairs.
Killian is setting up his station, wrapping everything, and setting everything neatly where he needs it. He’s so neat, so particular when it comes to the shop. “Would you tattoo me?”
“Nerd, you passed out when the nurse tried to give you your injections. I’m gonna say no on that one.”
“Killian, that was years ago.”
He tosses me a look that says, “Yeah, sure,” before turning back and concentrating on getting everything ready.
I slip into the kitchen, wash out my mug, and rummage in the cupboard.
I know he had some travel mugs made for the shop a while ago.
Bingo. “Killer Ink” is emblazoned in cool lettering on the cup.
I rinse one out, fill it with coffee, and wipe the side down, knowing Killian will kick my butt if he sees I’ve left a mess.
When I head back into the shop, I place a coffee next to his station. He grins up at me before locking eyes with the travel mug.
“Oh, I see how it is. Stealing from me so early in the day.”
“I’ll bring it back.” I grin down at him, knowing when I smile at him like this, my dimples are more obvious. His eyes soften, and I get my way.
“Like you brought the other five back. What about all the T-shirts you’ve pilfered? They say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch.” He narrows his eyes, shakes his head, and picks up his mug, takes a swig, then stares at me. “Fuck off then, you’re gonna be late.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Damn it!” I snatch my bag from the floor and dash for the door.
“See ya, loser!” Killian yells after me. I throw my hand in the air, but rush straight outside, practically jogging all the way to uni.
When I arrive at the campus gates, the alarm on my phone chimes, signalling I’m already late.
I have to sprint across the quad to make it on time, rushing inside and up the two flights of stairs until I reach my lecture room.
Panting, I push through the doors, and everyone’s head spins to glare at me.
“Sorry, sorry,” I gasp out, awkwardly acknowledging everyone, as I make my way towards my seat, knocking two of my classmates as I rush past.
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumble as I push through.
“Fucking loser,” one of them mutters while the other just scowls at me, and I flop into the seat.
“Where the hell have you been?” Becky, my best friend, whispers. I say best friend, but she’s my only friend, really.
“One of those mornings,” I grumble.
The lecturer starts droning on. I just can’t seem to focus. I sip my coffee. I chew on my pen, and I try to take notes, but all I can think about is Derren and what Killian said about him.
At lunch me and Becky sit at the back of the food hall. She leans into me. “Dude, you smell really good. Like sexy good. What the hell is it?”
“Killian,” I mutter.
“Why the hell do you smell like Killian. And, damn, if that’s what he smells like, can you give him my number?”
“Eww gross.” I turn and face her with a look of disdain etched across my face.
“Don’t, don’t make out like it’s gross, cos’ he’s family and all that bullshit. You know damn well you’ve had a boner for him since you were little.”
“Eww, no, I didn’t.” My nose wrinkles at the thought.
“Liar,” she barks out, half laughing, half gasping.
“Shut up, Becky.” I punch her in the arm.
She chuckles. “You know it’s true.” Giving me the look only a best friend could get away with, the one that says she knows all my secrets and isn’t afraid to use them against me to prove her point.
“Tis not. He’s like my brother, and the thought of my brother is actually gross.”
“Your brother would get it, too, but Killian, he’s so dreamy.” She rests her chin in her hand and flutters her eyelashes as she stares up at the ceiling.
“Ugh, please don’t talk like that about my family. It’s weird and inappropriate.”
“Sure, it is.” She rolls her eyes at me.
I bite my lip, contemplating whether to say anything or not, but end up just blurting it out. “I’ve got a date.” I rush out.
“Wait, what? You’re shitting me. Who the hell with? Don’t say your hand, because eww!” She stares at me, mock gagging and clutching at her throat.
“Dramatic much? But nope, you know the hot guy from the sandwich shop?”
She leans in closer. “You mean the one with the face tattoo?”
Nodding, I stab a chip off my plate and slide it into my mouth, chewing before answering, “He asked me for my number last week and texted me last night.”
“Holy shit, you sure about that? He seems…” She trails off.
“Hot?” I wink.
“I was gonna say sketchy. Watch yourself with him, he gives off a just got out of prison on a double murder charge, and I’m on multiple registers vibe.”
I nudge her. “Don’t be so judgmental, Becky. He seemed nice when I spoke to him.”
“People said that about Bundy,” she mutters before adding, “Well, if you wake up in a shallow grave on the first date, with a kidney missing, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I bark out a laugh before coughing and choking on my chips. Becky slams her hand onto my back, trying to help dislodge it before I cough it up and it flies across the table. I gasp and take a drink as tears run down my face. She grins at me.
“Just be careful, yeah. I don’t want to see a news story about him trying to wear your skin as a dress.” I shake my head and smile, because that’s creepy as hell. I hope he’s a nice guy.
When I head back home, my brother is still on the sofa, gaming.
“Steven,” no answer. “Steven,” I shout louder. He slides one side of the headphones onto the side of his face, staring at me. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Are you working?”
“Not this week.” He pulls the headset into place, signalling the end of the conversation.
Steven works with Killian at the tattoo shop.
I’m not sure if they just work there or manage it, but they both apprenticed straight out of school with the guy who was there.
He left a few years ago, and my brother stopped going in as often.
The shop was rebranded. It’s now called Killer Ink.
It’s all dark wood and leather, with chrome and glass accents.
If you took the tattoo equipment out, it would look like a high-end wine bar.
Steven probably does a few days a month, at best, spending most of his time gaming or fucking his long-term whatever she is.
They’re not a couple. She comes here when he texts her.
They fuck, and she leaves. Abbie, Amy, Angie, something like that. And he calls me a loser.
I head into the kitchen and grab the ingredients for spaghetti bolognese from the fridge.
If I make enough, it will last us a couple of days.
I’m grating the cheese when the front door crashes open.
I don’t bother looking, knowing exactly who it is.
Killian is anything but subtle. I carry on, but startle when a hand reaches over my shoulder.
His body pins mine to the worktop as he grabs a handful of cheese and lifts it to his mouth, dropping some on me as he goes over my head.
“Jesus, Killian, you’re such an animal.” I push him away and step towards the sink and brush my hair and shoulders off, knocking the stray cheese into the sink.
He chuckles and stuffs another mouthful in. I storm over and bat him away. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me into him before wrapping it tighter around my neck and scrubbing his knuckles into my hair.
“Killian, for God’s sake.” I push and swat at him, trying to get him off me before he barks out a laugh and lets go.
“Best be enough for me, too, Nerd.”
I roll my eyes and step over to the cupboard, grabbing another plate and setting it next to the other two. He turns around and heads into the living room, placing his hand on the back of the sofa and vaulting over it, landing beside my brother.
Oh, fuck, that’s sexy.
He snatches the spare controller off the table and starts clicking buttons. Neither of them speaks to the other; they just play.
In the kitchen, I dish up, leaving theirs on the side because I’m not Cinderella.
“Dinner,” I yell as I take my plate and a fork upstairs.
I shut myself in my room and flick on my TV, groaning around my forkful of food in peace before I stretch out on the bed.
My phone taunts me as I stare at it, longing for it to buzz.
I open up the message thread, and nothing.
My fingers fly across the screen and start typing a message, only to delete it again.
Then I type again, then delete. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Fuck’s sake.”
After tossing my phone onto the desk as far away from me as I can get, I crawl into bed. Dull curses and banter from Steven and Killian break the silence in my room, and I drift off, utterly exhausted from tossing and turning the night before.