Chapter 9
Chapter nine
August
Ihated that I was nervous to meet with my parents.
I’d always been comfortable with them, whether I dropped by the house randomly or called on a whim, but after they’d dropped their news and I’d ditched, things had been awkward. We’d texted a bit, but my parents were clearly giving me the space I’d asked for instead of Mom’s usual daily puppy GIFs.
However, we had to acknowledge the elephant in the room. I wasn’t sure why anyone invited an elephant into a room anyway. Terrible party guests.
I stepped up to the entrance of Fun-Guy, our local mushroom-themed sports bar, my nerves all a-jitter.
It didn’t help that I’d been checking and triple-checking my phone ever since the concert.
Three days had passed, and clearly, Drake hated me and never wanted to see me again because we’d barely talked.
While sucking him off under the pier had been hot as hell, I left with a lingering disappointment because I didn’t want to be a one-off.
I wasn’t cut out for hookups.
Especially because my parents were already breaking up with me. Which sounded a bit incestuous when I thought about it, but the feeling hit the same. I sucked in a sharp breath and walked into the bar.
The TVs blared with a basketball game in the background, and one of the usual bartenders stood behind the bar. I knew most folks in town, either from growing up here or because they’d gotten tattooed at the shop, and Hal, I’d tattooed. He had a mini reaper on his ankle.
The little dopamine hit surged again, the one that always did when I realized people were walking around and living their lives with little bits of my art on their skin.
“Auggie, we’re over here,” Mom called, snagging my attention. Her and Dad sat at the tables on the left, beside the window. My heart twisted, a combination of relief and sadness. I hadn’t finished grappling with the bombshell they’d dropped. Just distracted myself.
Though, damn, what a distraction Drake had been.
I headed over to greet my folks and gave my mom a hug first, then my dad. The relief was clear in their eyes, and guilt bubbled up that I wasn’t able to be more lax about their whole uproot and move down to Florida.
“Thanks for coming out to lunch,” Dad said, his blond hair the same thickness as mine, just shorter and threaded with gray. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “You were right that we should’ve mentioned it to you when we started thinking about the idea.”
I swallowed hard. Appreciation flared inside me. “I mean, it would’ve helped, so I wasn’t blindsided.”
“You could always come with us,” Mom said, a burst of hope in her eyes. My stomach churned.
“Finding a tattoo job isn’t easy.” Plus, I’d been here my entire life. The idea of uprooting unsettled me as much as the idea of my parents moving.
“About that,” Dad said. “We called around in Sarasota, and there’s a shop currently looking for an established artist.”
I wrinkled my nose. Established was variable.
I couldn’t bring my book with me, so I’d be starting from scratch with clientele.
I did at least have the necessary experience.
I hated that my brain even started entertaining this, but the sad puppy faces my parents were giving me made me want to agree on the spot, even if I was conflicted.
Guaranteed I’d get sad puppy faces from the crew at Alchemy Ink too.
Whatever I chose, someone would be upset, and I hated situations like this with my whole being.
“Don’t know,” I said. “My dating prospects wouldn’t be great in Sarasota. Who would I date? Someone your age?”
Dad shook his head. “Please, no. We’re old. But we looked into that too. Sarasota’s got a huge gay scene.”
“I’m bi, Dad,” I responded.
“We’re just saying if you want to keep your options open,” Mom offered. “Plus, I thought bisexuals liked gay bars too.”
I rolled my eyes, even though amusement filtered through me. “We’re fans of all types of bars.”
“We ordered your favorite burger, if that’s okay,” Mom said, tilting her head in the direction of the waitress who approached carrying a laden tray. “We even asked for extra pickles.”
“Yeah, of course,” I responded, even though I didn’t think I’d be able to eat much right now. Not with the way my gut churned. “Thanks.”
The waitress placed the plates in front of us. A BLT for Mom, a turkey sandwich for Dad, and the burger for me. All our usuals at a place we’d gone to for years, and yet the dynamic felt completely different.
“Do you mind if I take some time to think on things?” I asked, needing to cut the tension between us. Mom’s constant glances and Dad’s quiet were indicative that they were both waiting too.
“Of course, of course,” Mom said, waving a hand back and forth. “We put the house on sale, so who knows how long it’ll take to move.”
The news socked me in the stomach. This was all rushing in faster than I could prepare for.
That urge to get up and bolt thrummed inside me again, but I couldn’t abandon them in the middle of the restaurant.
I ate some fries instead.
I chewed intently on each fry, focusing on the salt distribution and not the fact that my parents wanted me to uproot my life and come with them.
Or the fact that beyond my job, I didn’t have many prospects here.
Rory wasn’t going to renew our lease—he’d be moving in with Wyatt when the time came—and I kept striking out left and right with boyfriends and girlfriends.
The door to Fun-Guy opened, and in strolled the man I hadn’t seen or heard from over the past few days.
Drake Castillo.
He wore the firehouse tee, stretched too perfectly across his wide shoulders, his cargos framing those thick thighs, and my mouth watered on instinct.
I hadn’t forgotten the way he’d kissed me until I was delirious, or how damn good the thick weight of his cock felt.
I’d fantasized about having that inside me as well, but he seemed to be done with me based on the few texts back.
“—and we’d be closer to Grandma and Grandpa,” Mom continued, clearly in the middle of a conversation I hadn’t realized we were having.
Awareness filtered through me of Drake in the room, even as I returned my focus to my folks. “Have you been discussing this with them?” I asked.
“They’re one of the reasons,” Mom said. “Grandma’s not walking around well anymore. She’s struggling, and I want to be able to help her and Grandpa.”
More guilt poured right over me. I hadn’t even known they were having a hard time. When I called Grandma last month, she’d been as much of a firecracker as ever. “All I heard was about the mushrooms she was growing that looked like dicks.”
Dad snorted. Mom’s mother had always been on the raunchier side, and we loved her for it.
“Hey, August?” Drake’s voice snared my attention.
He stood a few feet away and waved. My mouth dried, and words evacuated my mouth. This close, I was reminded of every stolen moment from our time at the pier after the concert. The entire night had been unforgettable from beginning to end.
“Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said as he scanned over my parents.
“Mind if I go say hi?” I asked my folks. Both of them got a glint in their eyes that I didn’t like because the last thing I needed was them interfering right now. Especially when they were trying to get me to leave the area.
“Sure, we’ll be here,” Mom said, giving me a shooing motion.
I hopped out of the seat, far too eager to be away from all the conflicting thoughts with my folks. Drake had already started toward the bar, and I strode up beside him.
“Just got off a shift?” I asked, taking in the bags under his eyes and the slight slump of his shoulders.
“Another twenty-four. After the concert, I got launched into the thick of it at work, and apparently everyone and their mother was having a kitchen fire this week. You started a trend.” Drake rifled his fingers through his hair and flashed me a grin.
My insides flip-flopped. God, he was dangerous for my heart.
The bartender swung by, and he ordered himself a beer and a burger for takeout before looking back at me.
“You want?” I shook my head, since my food and drink remained back at the table with my folks.
“Sorry for not responding much,” he continued.
“Didn’t expect to run into you here, but I’m glad I did. ”
“Me too,” I responded, the relief instantaneous. Maybe he hadn’t gotten sick of me yet. “Thought the question about feet had been too much, but apparently not.”
He snorted. “I mean, look, when I’m operating on zero sleep, I can’t comprehend what I’d do with webbed feet. Can I get back to you on that?”
“Mm, don’t know,” I said, tapping a finger against my chin. “It’s kind of pressing information if we keep talking.”
His brows wrinkled in confusion.
“Like, are you the sort who’d try to do some underwater tricks or jerk yourself off with your webbed feet?”
“Is this a test? Like if I say the latter, then you’re done with me?” he teased, a wicked arch to his brow that I liked a bit too much.
“Oh, I’d try the latter,” I commented. “I don’t like living with missed opportunities.”
The bartender swung over with his beer, and Drake took a sip. The glossiness on his lower lip was far too sexy, and the urge to lean in and lick it surged strong. Fuck, how was he this damn hot and still talking to me?
“So, were you serious about being a concert buddy?” he asked.
“Do octopi have three hearts?” I responded, excitement bursting through me. Not that I was short on friends, but our night together had been replaying in my mind ever since it happened.
He blinked at me. “I have no idea. Do they?”
“Yeah,” I said, scratching at my nape. “Weird facts are kind of my territory, mostly due to art research. I’ve had to do a lot of nautical sleeves.”
“Is there anything you hate to tattoo?” he asked, settling in his seat. I cast a glance back at my folks, but they were deep in discussion over at the booth where I’d abandoned them.
“Script and lettering aren’t my favorite, but it’s normal territory with the job. Big pieces are where I thrive.” I chewed on my lower lip. “But about the concert?”
“Ah, yeah.” A slow, sexy grin rolled to his features, and damn, I couldn’t quite look away from him. “I’m in charge of setting up a fundraiser for the fire company this year, and I want to do something different.”
“What, the spaghetti dinners aren’t drawing in crowds?” I teased. I’d seen the random flyers around town every once in a while, but that seemed like such an odd thing to show up to. Did someone just stand there with a bucket of spaghetti in marinara and shovel it onto plate after plate?
Drake barked a laugh. “Yeah, not lately. So, I was thinking of trying a small show, local talent. Draw in a crowd, bring some energy to the place.”
“Oh, is this a local band?” I asked. I loved trying out small, unknown bands. Stumbling upon someone good was like finding a hidden treasure you wanted to share with everyone.
“Yeah, so I understand if you wouldn’t be interested—”
“Nuh uh, not getting out of this,” I said. “I’m definitely in.”
“I haven’t even mentioned when,” he said, shaking his head. Still, I’d count the grin on his lips as a good sign. His fingers were inches away from mine, and the temptation to brush against his just to feel the jolt was ever-present. That sort of electricity was rare, and I craved it.
“Mm, I’ll make it work around my schedule,” I said with a shrug. Truth be told, I wanted to spend more time around him, any way I could. This close, his scent tickled my nose, some cedar cologne and the hint of smoke. It intoxicated me.
“This Friday?” he asked.
I wrinkled my nose. Friday, I worked at the shop until close.
“Are they the headliner? If it’s later, I’ll be there.
” I wanted to ask was if he wanted to cash in on the rain check from the beach.
Granted, while I sure as fuck wouldn’t pass up on more orgasms, I found I just wanted to be around him.
Clearly, a terrible sign for keeping things light and easy between us.
“Yeah, the show doesn’t start until nine.
” He swigged another gulp of beer, and I enjoyed the bob of his Adam’s apple.
“We can hang after if you want.” Drake’s gaze snagged mine, and the heat there lit me up from the inside out.
Tension percolated between us, thickening the air as neither of us looked away.
I swallowed hard. I could be dense, but I was pretty sure I picked up what he was implying. “Yeah,” I managed, my throat dry. “I’d like that.”
The bartender returned, slicing through the tension with knife-like precision. He dropped off the takeout Drake had ordered, already in its Styrofoam container and plastic bag.
Drake swallowed the last of his beer and placed the glass onto the counter.
“All right. I’d better be out of here,” he said, scooping up his takeout and rising to a stand.
Part of me wanted to beg for a few more minutes, but my folks were waiting over at the booth for me, and I needed to return to them. “See you Friday?”
I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
His gaze zeroed in on my lips, and for a moment, I hoped he was going to dip in and claim them again.
Instead, he lifted a hand in a wave and stepped off.
Disappointment thudded through me as I watched him head out of Fun-Guy.
Both of my parents were blatantly staring at me—I could feel the looks boring into me—but I wasn’t going to give them a morsel.
Not when Drake’s sudden appearance had muddled my thoughts.
My parents’ offer to move with them felt light-years away, even if it had only been brought up a bit ago.
I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself back to the table.
I didn’t have to give an answer yet, so for now, I’d enjoy each moment I got with Drake.
If he followed my normal dating pattern, this wouldn’t end up lasting anyway.