Jean Haus: Ink My Heart

I nod, recognizing he must have had all his work done by separate artists, even though, except for the Japanese lettering, the tribal designs all coordinate. Again, the man has ink luck. “You indicated almost a foot of your spine. I’d first do the outline, then the interior tribal work, shading, and coloring. Two separate appointments. At least a week apart.”

“A week apart?”

“Or more. Your skin needs to heal in between each session.”

“Two sessions,” he says in an almost ardent tone. “Okay, let’s set it up.”

With a feeling of dread, I push up off the stool.

“Well,” Shay says from the counter, holding my appointment book in one hand. We both turn to her with startled expressions. It’s obvious that neither of us was aware she was in the room, and I’m slightly off-balance at how much Justin commands my attention. I never get this way around guys, hot or not. “Today’s your lucky day. Al has an opening on Friday afternoon. Usually people have to wait a couple weeks or more for Al unless they do Saturday nights.”

Justin nods. “Friday will work.”

Friday feels too soon. “Friday’s probably not a good idea if you have a show on Saturday.” He gives me a questioning look. “You’ll be in pain.”

He shrugs. “Let me worry about that. I’m not exactly a novice. Friday’s fine. Perfect in fact . I’m class free on Fridays. We can do the next one the Friday after that if you’re open.”

Against my better judgment, I nod, and Shay pencils him in for the next two Fridays. I’m about to step back behind the counter and put space between Mr. Hottie and me when the front door bursts open.

At the sight of the person standing there, I freeze, overwhelmed as a messy kaleidoscope of emotion bursts within me. Bright yellow hope tangles with soft pink longing. Never forgotten black humiliation drips beneath dark blue streaks of despair while red-hot anger splatters over everything. I push down the strong desire to run as those familiar eyes meet my own. He takes a step farther into the shop. He is less than twenty feet away from me.

I need a buffer.

In desperation, I stupidly choose the one next to me.

My arm wraps around Justin’s waist while my eyes beg his. Though his expression is confused, he doesn’t step away.

“Hello, Allie.”

I force calmness and look into the face that haunts my dreams and nightmares. Except for the new tattoo along his neck and the nearly shaved dark head, he appears the same. A harsh, angled face with contrasting soft, blue eyes. The thin line of his lips is unforgiving. He’s as magnetic as ever and completely off-limits.

I force myself to appear composed, but inside I’m a shocked mess. “Trevor. What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” Why didn’t you warn me? Let me freak out before coming face-to-face?

Perhaps sensing my distress, Justin wraps an arm around my shoulders. I place my other hand on his stomach, the muscles tight under my palm.

Trevor shrugs the wide shoulders I know so well. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” He scowls at the man I’m holding on to like a life preserver. “Who’s this?”

Justin puts a hand out. “Justin Noel.”

They shake hands stiffly while I chew on my lip ring. Though I’m trying to appear comfortable in Justin’s embrace, this whole thing is so whacked, it almost feels like an out-of-body experience.

Trevor lifts his chin and glares down at me. “You said you weren’t dating the last time we talked.”

Of course he’d come out and say it. I refuse to contemplate why he sounds angry. “I…well,” I mumble, searching desperately for a plausible explanation. Recalling the last time we talked, I say, “I didn’t want to say anything with Ben there.”

Trevor’s eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms against his chest and glances around the shop. His dark eyebrows rise as he takes in the vast changes. As soon as he left, I repainted the walls, changed the art on them, and rearranged the furniture. I didn’t want to be reminded of him one bit. His tightened gaze comes back to me. “Since I’m in town, I thought I’d take a look at the books.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Let me walk Justin out and I’ll meet you in the office.” I don’t wait for an answer, just grab Justin’s hand and tug him toward the exit. He follows but stops to grab his jacket off a chair and says, “Catch you later,” to Trevor, whose upper lip curls slightly.

As shock continues to roll through me, my breathing turns shallow. I tug Justin’s hand harder. On the sidewalk outside, I drag him past the shop’s window, let go of his hand, and bend over, dragging air into my lungs.

Justin’s boots come into my vision. “Allie? You okay?”

With one hand on one knee and the other in the air, signaling for him to wait, I shake my head, hoping I can avoid a face-plant onto the ice-speckled cement. Though suffering a concussion might be better than explaining the situation to Justin or facing Trevor in the office. After sucking in air for a few minutes and trying to exhale as slowly as possible, my breathing slows down to normal. I stand up and meet Justin’s worried gaze.

“I’m sorry.” I lean my head back and let out a groan at my idiocy. “I’m so embarrassed I did that to you.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal.” He holds the jacket in his hand out to me. “You have to be freezing.”

I wave the jacket away. I’m still shaken, and the cold isn’t registering. Though my behavior doesn’t seem to be bothering him, I can’t stop my apologetic explanation. “Shock just got the better of me. He’s my business partner and my ex.”

Justin nods. “I kind of guessed the last part.”

“I haven’t seen him in almost two years. He lives in California. Owns a shop there too.” I rub my forehead. “Why isn’t he in California? Ugh, I really can’t believe I did that to you.”

Justin grins deep enough for his dimples to show. “I don’t care that you let him think we’re together. It’s not like I didn’t already ask you out.”

I slap my jean-clad thigh hard enough for it to sting. “Well, I do. Wow. I feel like a complete idiot.”

“No worries. You’re not an idiot.”

A self-deprecating snort escapes me. “Oh, I most definitely acted like an idiot, but thanks. And thanks for going along with my ridiculous act.” He watches me as I take in a deep breath. “All right, I’ve got to get in there.”

“You going to be okay?” He puts on his jacket in one smooth motion.

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Just super shocked there for a minute, but I’m good.” I take a step toward the shop. “See you Friday, and thanks again for not blowing my cover.”

“Anytime, Allie,” he says, slipping on his sunglasses as I walk past him.

Still mortified by my behavior, I don’t reply or look back. The shop appears to be empty when I walk back in. Not caring where Shay is, I go to my drawing table and lean over it. The sketch of a treble clef decorated inside with tribal designs and wrapped around a microphone lies in the middle of the table, reminding me of the man I just left on the sidewalk.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that!” Shay yells from behind me, and in seconds a jar half filled with ones is under my nose. “Hand it over, sister.”

Sighing, I dig into my pocket, count off five ones, and drop them in the jar. Ever since I instituted the swear jar, Shay and Mandy have enforced it like bulldog cops.

Shay smiles sweetly. “Maybe Mandy’s right. You need to get laid.”

My eyes cuss at her.

She shrugs. “Seems like there’s ample opportunity around here today, but hey, I don’t mind you paying for pizza night.”