18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. It’s the right time, though. I can feel it. Or maybe that’s just nerves.
“You don’t have to do this,” Cade says as I push open the door to the tattoo shop. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not doing this to prove anything to you.” I march up to the tattooed man waiting at the counter. “I’m doing this to prove something to me.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“I do.” I shake my head. “I do. And you don’t get that.”
“Wait a second.” Cade grabs my wrist, turning me toward him. “Let’s talk about this before you do something you’ll regret.”
I glance back at the man waiting at the counter. “Can you give me a minute?” I ask.
“Take your time, sweet cheeks,” he says, walking away from the counter with loud, thudding steps. I wince.
“Sweet cheeks,” Cade mutters. “I’m putting that in the nickname bank.”
“I’m getting this tattoo,” I tell him, leveling my gaze. “Whether you’re staying to supervise or not.” It’s hard to remain confident when the storm clouds in his eyes are so striking. It’s even harder when I realize he’s only this concerned because he knows me. He understands that I’m doing something out of my comfort zone.
And he’s concerned about it.
His jaw flexes.
“Cade.”
“Gigi.”
“Cade. I’m doing this.”
“And there’s nothing I can say to make you think before you do it?”
I shake my head.
“I’m a little disappointed I’m not doing your first tattoo,” he says, his shoulders dropping their tension. “But let’s do this, princess.”
Elated, I can’t help myself. I hug Cade Deans. Might as well take two chances tonight instead of just one.
I feel fine until I’m settled into a chair and the tattoo artist starts prepping his ink and tools.
“How you doing?” Cade asks. He’s not looking at me, but instead watching the artist lay out his gear.
“Are you asking me, or the tattoo artist you’re drooling over?” I ask, smiling up at him. “I’m fine. We haven’t done anything yet.”
“Well, how are your nerves, then?” he asks. His eyes turn to saucers. “Oh, man. That’s not the new Bishop, is it?”
I turn to see what he’s looking at. A tattoo gun, it appears, all chrome and shiny.
The tattoo artist chuckles. “It is. You familiar with the art, then, I take it?”
Cade nods excitedly. “Very. Dude, the Bishop. That Bishop. That’s my dream wand.”
“Corded or cordless,” the artist tells Cade. “Check this.” He unplugs the gun, pushing a button. The tattoo gun whirrs on, even after being unplugged.
“Dude,” Cade nearly moans.
“I know,” the guy says. “Revolutionary.”
I wait patiently while Cade and his new best friend get to know each other. After a while, the tattoo artist says, “Okay. You ready?”
“I think so,” I say, nodding. I look at Cade, and he grins.
“You got this,” he tells me.
I nod. “Let’s do it,” I tell the artist.
As soon as the needle hits my skin, I wince. I close my eyes, fighting the tensing occurring in my legs.
Suddenly, Cade’s hand encases mine. He interlocks our fingers, squeezing. “Scale of one to ten?” he wonders.
I feel lightheaded now. But I don’t think it’s from nerves anymore. “Four,” I whisper.
He squeezes my hand again and doesn’t let go until the tattoo is done. It makes me wish I went with something much, much bigger.
“Okay,” the artist says, giving the tattoo a few wipes. “Let’s take a look.”
I have a heart on my collarbone, at the recommendation of Cade and encouragement from my artist.
“How about a heart?” Cade teased me. “Yours is so big that all the love you have for people takes up all that space in your chest. Put another heart on you to represent you loving yourself. Making space and time for you. You need room in your heart for yourself, too.”
The extra heart I have now is much smaller than the original, nestled more toward my shoulder so I can hide it with hair should I want to. It’s not much of a tattoo, but it’s a damn tattoo. And I am overjoyed about it.
“I can’t believe I did that!” I say as Cade and I walk out of the tattoo shop. With my big idea came quite the journey—the closest shop was almost an hour away.
“It’s pretty badass,” Cade says. “Congratulations.”
“I can’t believe I did that!”
He laughs. “You said that already.”
I throw open the passenger side door of Cade’s truck with theatrics. “I can’t believe I did that, Cade!”
“Do you have any other thoughts for me?” he asks. “How do you feel?”
“Electric,” I say, for lack of anything better. Then, realizing I do have something much more fitting, I say, “Like I’m on fire.”
“Good.” Cade smiles. “That’s how you’re supposed to feel. It’s adrenaline.”
No, just a desire for you, I’m realizing now. You make my heart feel this way.
“You should have gotten one, too,” I say. “It would’ve made the experience special.”
He shrugs. “You don’t need special experiences with a guy like me,” Cade says.
I frown. “I’ve had a few already.”
“You haven’t.” As Cade turns onto the highway, his gaze flips to me.
What were those, then? The night at the bar, our night before this at the beach. What are they, if not for something special?
I ask Cade this, a bit indignant.
“Those were two friends hanging out, Gigi. This is two friends hanging out. Do you think it’s something else?”
“No,” I lie. Disappointment wells in my stomach at the same time that my chest heats. He answered with a question. There’s more to it—and he doesn’t want me to know.
“I enjoy hanging out with you,” he says. “But keep your hopeless romantic shit to yourself.” As he says this, his jaw does that thing again.
Then my heart ignites. Good thing I’ve got a spare now.
It’s been a few weeks since my tattoo, and things with Cade haven’t felt any less… heated since then. Time seems to fly between working at the diner, making a second job out of evading Shane while I meticulously plan a breakup, and hanging out with Cade. He still hasn’t heard from Eddy about the loan for the tattoo shop, and with every day that passes, he gets more and more antsy.
He told me at the boardwalk weeks ago he had his shop. And I thought he meant it—that he really owned the thing. But apparently, he rushed down to the boardwalk to announce to me the heightened possibility of owning the shop.
The fact that Cade was that excited to tell me about a phone call that was essentially meaningless makes me hopeful. But it shouldn’t. The fact that he has a tattoo that says ruin , with the letters starting to engulf in flames, is just too… fitting. It’s too Cade.
I hate—love?—the way my mind drifts to him all the time. Hooking up with Shane has turned into hooking up with an image of Cade Deans that sits like a god behind my eyelids. And as fun as that is, I want the real thing.
But I have to break things off with Shane first. I’m not a girl that just hooks up, not really, even if I pretend to. But I’m especially not a girl who will spend time with two guys at once.
At least, not naked.
I can’t stop thinking about the breakup being number one on my to-do list. Even if I’m in Cade’s vicinity at the apartment all the time. Tonight is no exception.
“Have you told her?”
“No, I haven’t told her. Why don’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me what?” I ask, coming to take a seat on the couch and depositing the drink I grabbed into Cade’s hand. “Did you finally decide to screw each other?” I ask, pointing at EJ and Rory.
“I’m trying,” EJ laments.
At the same time, Rory says, “No. Have you guys?”
Cade snickers. “No,” he says. “But not without trying.”
I roll my eyes.
It’s a Friday night, and Rory and I are at EJ and Cade’s. I have a date with Shane tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow, I’ve told myself again and again. Tonight is for Cade. I’m making it for Cade. Drinking beer with him, laughing with glee at his jokes, enjoying him. Immersing myself and pretending Shane doesn’t exist, simply because I can.
“EJ wants to have a party. For Independence Day,” Rory says.
“Do you… normally?”
“No,” EJ supplies. “But why not start?”
“What’s different about this than all the other times we hang out here?” Cade grunts.
“Fireworks,” I say. “Right? There’s a fireworks show on the beach.”
Cade’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Duh,” I say, grinning widely at him. “Have you never experienced Independence Day in Texas, Cade? Texas? ”
He smirks, dimples popping. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” I challenge with a coy smile. That was too freakin’ bold, Gigi. Too much. But god, do I ever hope he catches on.
The words come out before my brain registers them. Right as they click into place, Cade is standing. “You asked for this,” he mumbles. Then I’m airborne, being flung with ease over Cade’s shoulder.
I squeal, pounding on his back. He secures a hand beneath the curve of my ass. “Cade! Put. Me. Down.”
“We need to talk,” he mutters. “Excuse us,” he calls to Rory and EJ as he carries me the short distance to his room. He uses his foot to kick the door shut, then sets me gingerly on his bed, not bothering to flip on any lights. My skin is buzzing with the feeling of his arms holding my body to his.
“You could’ve asked me to walk in here,” I remind him. “I have—”
“Princess, I need you to understand something,” he warns. He places a hand gently over my mouth as he leans over me and balances on his forearm. Holy shit. “Shut up. Listen. Okay?”
I nod. Oh, my god. Oh, dear Lord. Cade Deans is gonna take me right here and just… This is way better than I thought.
He bends down, his lips at my ear. My spine tingles. “I can’t have you say things like that to me. Because, trust me, I very much want to make you do a lot of things. But I won’t. If you say that to me again, I can’t promise that I won’t listen to you. That’ll make things very awkward for Rory and EJ. And I really, really don’t want to do that.”
He uncovers my mouth.
My lips tingle with the feeling of him. I reach up, running careful fingers over my lip, ensuring he’s not still there.
I want him to be. I miss him already.
“Gigi,” he says softly as he sits up. “Princess. You’re making things very hard for me.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“I think we both know you don’t mind,” Cade growls. “I’ll stop calling you that when you stop fucking with my head.”
“What are you talking about?” I sit up, remaining seated on Cade’s bed as he towers over me.
“You don’t know? You. You’re a walking fuck me! billboard. And I’m the only guy in the world who shouldn’t pay attention.” He runs a hand through his hair, not looking at me. “But I can’t stop.”
“Well, I’ve got a boyfriend,” I say. “And your attitude toward dating isn’t my… cup of coffee.”
Cade guffaws, loud. “Why don’t you invite the artist to the party? It’ll be a nice distraction for me to have you busy with someone else.” I blink, my brain registering his words. I frown. “Every time I look at you, I want you. And that’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous for you or for me?” My hand is poised on the door handle, ready to pull it open.
“I think you know the answer, princess,” Cade says.
“I do,” I say. “You’re fighting a jealousy bug, aren’t you?”
I pull the door open.
There’s no doubt now—we’re both feeling the heat. And we’re both in trouble.