66. Seth
Seth
“You wanna cuddle or shower first?” Kaden asks.
My laughing fit has tuned out, but I’m still so high on endorphins, that I feel like I’m flying. Or floating. I don’t even know.
“Shower. But I don’t know if my legs work.”
“I’d offer to carry you but then we’d both go down,” he says, chuckling. And then he narrows his eyes, grabs my jaw and turns my head to the side.
“Oh, shit,” he says.
“What?”
“I did not do that.”
“What?” I move a hand up to my neck, feeling out for anything strange but there’s nothing there.
“Go look in the mirror,” is all he says, and now I have to get up.
I stand on wobbly legs and shuffle into the bathroom. Turning the light on, my eyes are blinded for a moment, before I squint them open. I feel wrecked and my ass is sore as I take another few steps up to the mirror.
“Oh, my god!”
“That can’t be from me,” Kaden says behind me, tying the condom up and throwing it in the bin.
I swirl around, eyes wide. “What do you mean it’s not from you? You’re telling me a hickey the size of fucking Jupiter just magically appeared on my neck? Out of thin fucking air? In the past hour?”
He presses his lips together, biting back a smile. “Maybe Iggy can—”
“Iggy?” I squeak. “Iggy can’t see this. She’ll call the fucking cops.” I turn around again, taking another look in the mirror. “I look like a victim in a murder attempt.”
He just laughs behind me.
And then my eyes travel south, and there are more hickeys under my collarbone and on my chest. A huffing laugh slips out of me.
It’s a weird laugh, like the one that leaves you when you’re in the middle of a nervous breakdown.
I’m not, though. I’ve come to love wearing Kaden’s hickeys, but this?
This is a bit over the top, even for me.
Holy fucking hell, I have work tomorrow. Customers. What if another old lady walks in? I’ll send her right into her grave with this monstrosity.
“Maybe a shower’ll help,” Kaden says, as he reaches a hand in and turns the water on. I drop my chin.
“Come on,” he says, dragging me into the shower with him.
He stands in front of me, and tilts my jaw to the side, inspecting my neck, frowning a little.
“You’re an animal,” I say, scowling at him, but there’s also a smile playing at the corner of my mouth.
“Yeah,” he drawls, frowning a little as he drags his thumb over the hickey. “So it seems. In my defense, though,” he says, dropping his hand and steps under the spray. “You said you like it when I bite your neck. So,” he shrugs, and tilts his head back, letting the water rinse his hair.
“I also said I wanted you to fuck me against a wall, but I don’t see that happening,” I say, throwing my arms out.
He wipes water from his face, shooting me a smirk. “Give me an hour, and I’ll be good to go.”
I push him out of the way, and stand under the spray, making him laugh. “Asshole.”
“Are you cold today?” Jude asks, eyeing me.
I’m wearing a scarf, as I have for a few days now. A fucking scarf. Indoors. I feel like an idiot, but there’s no way I’ll let anyone see my neck until the hickey’s faded.
It’s embarrassing. People my age don’t walk around with hickeys—or bite marks—that I know of. Maybe they do, but they cover them up.
Come to think of it, I never saw Tara with hickeys, or any of the other girlfriends Kaden’s had. So, either this animalistic behavior is strictly aimed at me—which, ha ha, is just ludicrous to think—or their makeup collections are bigger than mine.
“Or is it a fashion revival?” he adds, grinning.
I chuckle. “A fashion revival?”
“Yeah, didn’t all the girls in your high school wear tube scarves at some point?”
“Not really,” I frown, shaking my head slightly. I dip the needle into the ink, and keep going.
He came in with a small design, an owl in black and grey, that he wanted on the inside of his upper arm. I told him it’s more Kaden’s style—the black and grey—and I usually do more watercolor tattoos, but he just brushed it off, saying he trusted my skills well enough.
“No?” he says, biting his bottom lip. “Huh, where did you go to high school?”
“Santa Ana.”
“Ah, so you’re not from here.”
“Nope,” I answer with a small smile, glancing at him.
“But you live here now?”
“Yeah. I moved here right after high school, so going on seven years now.”
“So—” he says, frowning a little, and chuckles. “Wait, how old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-five in June.”
I glance up at him, and he presses his lips together and nods.
“You?” I ask, wiping some ink off him.
“I’m thirty-two,” he says, squinting a little as if trying to soften the blow. It’s not even that old. “I’m sorry, I thought you were older,” he adds.
“Ouch.” I laugh. “I don’t think that’s a compliment.”
“Oh, no,” he replies with a snort. “It is. Really. I mean, you don’t look old, just something about your…” He waves a hand at me. “Demeanor. Like, you’re mature, or I don’t know.” He chuckles again, shaking his head. “But that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The…” He waves a hand in the air. “Tube scarves thing. It was the it thing in 2009, but you were only like, what? Eleven back then?”
I nod, shooting him a smile. “That’s right.”
He nods again, licking the corner of his mouth, before he glances down at where I’m working.
“Wow, you’re really fast,” he says. “And it doesn’t really hurt at all.”
“Compared to your back?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” he snorts. “That was… Intense.” He pulls the corners of his mouth down.
“We use this numbing cream,” I say, as I add some more on to his skin. “But doing that big of a piece, and for so many hours, even this won’t help.”
He keeps asking me all sorts of questions. Like, what I do for fun, and what’s my favorite thing about San Diego. How long I’ve been tattooing for, and whether or not I live far away from here. And if I like the neighborhood. Am I a beach guy, or a city boy? Have I ever been out of the state?
And then he tells me about his job at a construction site where he’s the overseeing manager. I know nothing about it, but I can appreciate what the work has done for his body. He’s fit as hell.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, or anything, but I was thinking, uh…” He scratches the back of his head, laughing uncomfortably.
I’ve cleaned up the tattoo, and I wrap it in plastic, before I glance up at him. He shakes his head again, shifts on the chair, swinging his legs off and looks at me.
“Would you like to get coffee with me some time?” he rushes out.
I’m a little taken aback. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Like… a date?”
“Yeah,” he says, biting his lips together.
He’s good-looking. He really is. Dark brown hair, golden brown eyes framed by dark lashes. Dark stubble covering his jaw, and he’s tall. Maybe a few inches taller than Kaden even.
But I can’t.
And I know that’s stupid, because Kaden and I are not together, not like that, and maybe Jude’s a great guy. I think he is. And I think it’s sweet that he seems a little nervous right now, while waiting for my answer. It’s flattering. It really is.
But I just… I can’t.
“Uhm,” I frown, looking for the right thing to say. “Sorry, I—”
“Oh, no, not at all,” he says, waving his hand at me, chuckling and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. That was weird of me. I just… I think you seem like someone I’d like to get to know better, but it’s fine,” he says, nodding and shaking his head at the same time.
“I mean,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t mind being friends, or anything but…
” I glance at Kaden where he sits on the couch, and I don’t mean to do it, so I drop my gaze to the floor, hoping Jude didn’t notice it.
But when I turn back at him, he’s looking at Kaden under his lashes, before he turns back to me, nodding once.
“Well, you can never have too many friends, right?” he says then, and smiles. It’s a good smile. It’s probably an uncomplicated smile, too.
I could probably like him. He’s funny, interesting, and curious. He seems to like people—like me.
And then maybe life wouldn’t be so complicated, and I could keep Kaden as my best friend. That’s the dream, right? It’s basically having the cake and eating it, too. An uncomplicated guy, who wants me, and a best friend. What’s more to ask for?
And if I could choose, I’d choose someone like Jude. But you don’t get to choose who you love. Or who’ll make your stomach flutter with butterflies, and kisses you until all you know is their lips on your lips. And breathing the same air as them is more important than the air itself.
You don’t get to choose whose touch you’ll crave so much, you’ll almost lose your mind in the process. Or whose skin will feel more like home than your own.
There’s only Kaden for me.
Whether I like it, or not—he’s the one.
And I can’t do a single fucking thing about it.