Page 8

It’s a different man who walks in than the last time. No hiding his features behind his hair or staring at the floor. Instead of the grubby clothes he wore before, he’s in a sleek white button-up shirt. Silky with a few buttons undone. Not trashy low, just enough to expose the hollow of his throat and the beginnings of his collarbones. It’s sheer enough that I can see a faint hint of the tattoo’s colors on his side. A pair of black slacks and shiny shoes complete the outfit. He’s gone from possible hooligan to fancy artist in the blink of an eye.

The confidence looks good on him, but his slight smile falters and goes away as he looks between us. He stopped moving a few steps past the door to stand stiffly. His expression is closing down to keep his thoughts to himself. The change is concerning to me.

“Hey. Everything ok?” I frown as his shoulders start to stiffen a bit.

“Yes.” He says in a flat tone.

That doesn’t feel like the truth. He sounds irritated. As if he had been interrupted during an important speech.

Damon looks at me in confusion.

I’m at a loss, too. But I don’t want my Gladiolus acting awkward in my safe space. He can find someplace else if he needs a moment to wilt. Maybe a little humor will knock him back into those fancy shoes of his.

“Good thing you’re here,” I tease with a wide grin. “My coworker has been pissed that I won’t tell him about your piece.”

He blinks slowly and gives the pierced man next to me his full attention.

Damon looks all kinds of uncomfortable as Poe’s eyes narrow on him. He studies him like he’s memorizing him, from his bright purple mohawk to the million piercings on his face. He doesn’t seem to like what he sees.

“Careful now,” I taunt him with a laugh. “Damon might think you want your nipples pierced.”

His eyes snap back to me, and he frowns a tiny bit before he steps to the counter with his confident stride.

“What’s wrong?” I go into business mode to look over his side for any obvious problems. “You hurting bad or red?”

“No.”

The return of his lowered, intimate tone helps me relax, easing my concern. My eyes meet his again, and that tug hits me right in the chest. A little stronger this time.

“Then you got any good gossip?” I raise a brow with a smirk.

The tension in him completely fades until his lips manage a slight curl.

“That’s better, cher,” I nod and brace my elbows on the counter again. “You feel comfortable showing him your piece?”

“No.” The slight smile doesn’t fade, but the denial is firm.

“You heard it from the man himself, Damon. None of your business,” I glance at my friend’s pout with a smug look.

“Damn. I’m convinced now. Going behind your curtain is like going to a confessional,” Damon gives me a dark look and goes to his section to start sketching. I don’t pay any attention to him, focusing on the enigma in front of me.

“No jokes now,cher. Are you feeling okay?” I keep my concern low, so it’s a private discussion even though Damon has parked himself not far away.

“Yes,” he braces his elbows on the counter across from me, bringing our faces closer together. I don’t have the will to back away, and my eyes have a mind of their own. I’m staring at his lips without a thought in my head before I snap out of it. When I look away, he speaks again.

“I want another one.”

I give him a look of disbelief, already shaking my head. “You got a fever for it now?”

“Something like that,” his eyes coast over my face, and my pulse speeds up.

“Not yet,” I tell him firmly. My voice has a little shake to it, but my mind is made up. It’s been two days since his last one, and he needs to heal up more before we start again. I’m not budging even if he’s looking at me like I’m edible.

“Ok,” he answers easily, as if this wasn’t something he was pouting over the last time I saw him.

We stare at each other over the short distance. The longer our eyes stay steady on each other, the worse the tug in my chest gets. I thought it was my imagination before but seeing him again proves me wrong.

Damon clears his throat loudly, but I ignore him with a smirk.