Page 69

He’s kissed me—multiple times, multiple ways, in multiple instances—has held my hand, and hugged me, for much longer than appropriate for a friendly hug. We’ve seen each other almost every day we’ve been free since he got here; and he introduced me to his friends like I was someone special to be introduced to; and…he’s seeing someone?
Indignation pries itself between my ribs.
“Now why the hell would I do that?” I answer with a hint of resentment. Fuck that, there’s a lot of that in there, along with a vibrant swirl of jealousy, too. “I wouldn’t have you break some girl’s heart just because I asked you to. That would be completely fucked up; this whole scenario is fucked up, actually. Why would you—”
“I’m not going to break her heart,” he interrupts with a tut of his head. He moves closer to me, my hands trapped in his as hepulls me closer, too. “It’s new. And we’re not exclusive. And she knows about you.”
My mouth falls open before I snap it shut. “She knows about me,” I say carefully. “Why the hell would she know about me?”
He laughs, and it feels like I just swallowed my heart. “Of course she knows about you,” he replies, and he looks at me like the words should make sense, but they don’t.
“Why,Jude?”
“God, Dec.” He skims a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last summer? What we did at the end of last summer? Maybe if you had let me come visit sooner, like I’d asked, we wouldn’t be in this weird fucking in between—”
I push my fingers against his mouth, stopping his words. His gray gaze dips down, his eyes on my four fingers pressed against his lips. Slowly, his hand comes up and his fingers wrap around my wrist, gently pulling them away. But before he does, he presses the lightest, softest kiss against my fingertips.
My heart soars and splinters all at once.
He’s not lying. He did mention wanting to visit sooner—over winter break, spring break—but I ended up going home with Addy both times, and we crossed paths as he was making his way here.
To be completely honest, though, I chickened out. Like I chickened out just now, cutting off his words before he could spill them into existence and make them real.
I pull my fingers from his grasp, the lingering buzz of his kiss tingling at my fingertips.
“Anyway, Little D,” he pushes out with a breath. “The girl I’m talking about, as you might remember, is my new motorcycle.” His what? Oh. Oh God.His motorcycle.He sent me a picture of it a few weeks ago right after he bought it, along with a text thatread:Meet Nyx, my new girl.I completely forgot about that. He was talking about his fucking motorcycle this entire time?
What a dick.
Slinging his arm over my shoulders, he draws me back into his side and forces us forward. “You going to admit you were jealous back there?” he asks with far too much satisfaction in his tone.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I lie. But the relief that settles into my bones tells me everything I need to know. I don’t want Jude to date other people. I can’t even stomach the thought of him touching anyone that isn’t me. But I can’t ask him not to do any of that if I’m not willing to date him myself, now can I?
No, I sure as hell cannot.
I let the thought simmer in my mind, stewing on the idea. It festers behind my ribcage, kicking at my heart. With every step we take toward his brother’s shop, conviction settles more and more.
Maybe admitting my feelings to Jude won’t be so scary after all.
______
We enter his brother’s tattoo shop, and I still, my mind riveted, my eyes taking everything in. It’s an entirely different world in here. Moody—in a breathtaking kind of way. Dark walls, ornamented chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a floor layered in dark gothic tile, and a completely open floorplan beyond the reception desk. Black leather chairs and sleek tattoo tables define each artist’s space, the darkest, deepest shade of green cabinets holding lines of colorful ink bottles and supplies that can be seen through glass-paneled doors. And tattoo art is…everywhere.Lining every inch of the black-painted walls, protected in decorative gold frames.
“Hey! Jude! You’re back!” a lively girl at the front desk says. “And you brought a friend with you! Are you Declan?” She turns her focus and wide smile to me, and I watch as a knowing look stretches over her face.
“Yes, that would be me,” I say. My heartbeat races down into my palms as I reach out to meet her shake.
“I’m Bianca, but you can call me Bee. Everyone else does. So, what are you guys here for?”
Jude clears his throat, visibly steeling himself before asking, “Is Paul still in?”
Bianca lights up, which is impressive considering she’s already as bright as a neon-lit sign. “He sure is! He was just bitching about a cancellation, so he’ll be stoked you’re getting something pierced. Whatareyou getting pierced?” she asks. “Frenum? Prince Albert? Apadravya?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously.
“Not me. Declan.” Jude tips his head toward me, stoic, but also… nervous. I can almost hear his swallow tracking down his throat with how visible it is. “She wants to get her nipples pierced.”
“Ooh! Naughty! I like it,” Bianca sings, spinning in her chair to grab a sheet of paperwork. I can’t help but laugh, and I watch as Jude’s lips lift into a reluctant smile, too.
Sitting down on the velvet bench near the front window, I fill out the paperwork Bianca gives me. When Jude takes a seat next to me, the warmth of him seeping from his side and into mine, I ask, “Will you go back there with me while I get it done? I’m a little scared, and I’m afraid I’ll chicken out if left to my own devices,” I admit. My knee bounces in a chaotic rhythm, shaking the clipboard in my lap.