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BRYCE

“Ow!Shit. Fuck. Can’t you be any gentler?”

I consider pressing the tip of the tattoo gun harder into the underside of my best friend’s ass cheek before turning the idea away.

“You’re the one who decided to get a tattoo here,” I mutter.

“I didn’t know it would hurt this bad!”

“It’s two letters and a period. Suck it up.”

Anna, another important member of our friend group, leans closer to both me and Poppy with blatant interest. She’s got virgin skin, totally uninked, and while I’m itching to change that for her, I’m also not interested in pushing.

“Is it really that painful, or are you being a bit sensitive?” Anna asks her.

Turning her head to the side, Poppy glares at our friend. “How about you get a tattoo on your ass, Annalise?”

She’s stretched out on the leather table without a shred of insecurity, a move completely in character for her. The hem of her sundress is flipped right up over her entire ass, a hot pink thong bright beneath the shitty lights in my basement.

Anna smiles, shaking her head while leaning back on thestorage bin she’s sitting on. “Brody would like his initials there a bit too much, I think.”

“It isn’t too late for me to change the tattoo, Poppy,” I remind her, half hoping she will.

“Cut it out, Ice. I’m not changing it.”

“You can’t honestly tell me he deserves his initials on your ass.”

“Technically, they’re not his initials,” she rebuts.

I huff. “Might as well be.”

S.D. are the letters she asked me to ink into her skin. A permanent mark that corresponds to the nickname she gave her boyfriend when they first met, Sir Douchelot.

“I think it’s romantic,” Anna says.

I wipe theSwith a paper towel to clean the ink. “I don’t see Garrison in here getting Poppy’s initials onhisass.”

“Would you like me to text him and ask him to come? We both know he’d be here in five seconds. He’s probably waiting for me outside already,” Poppy says.

Readjusting my position on my stool, I stretch my fingers out before gripping the gun again and bringing the needle back to her skin. The period is quick to ink, and then I’m wiping the skin again.

“All I’m saying is that he better appreciate this. It’s going to hurt to sit and use a pole for a few days. You’ll stretch this area constantly.”

“Maybe just avoid going to the studio during that time, Pops,” Anna encourages.

Poppy ignores our warnings. “No pain, no gain, guys.”

Beautifully Bold, her pole studio, is her entire life. She’s on a pole more than she is her feet at this point. Nothing and no one is capable of keeping her off it.

“Suit yourself,” I grunt.

“So . . .” Poppy starts, wiggling slightly when the gun’s needle passes over a sensitive spot. “When are you getting out of this basement and into a studio of your own?”

“I’m happy here.”

“Here? You’re happy doing tattoos for free in a dungeon?” she asks, calling me out.