Page 36 of A Summer Thing

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 he pulls 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 that read: 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.

What are you 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.

He eyes the jerky movement and lets out a growly sigh, if sighs can be growly.

“Yeah, Little D. I’ll go back there with you.

” He says it as if I’m asking him to sign up for the draft, potentially being called to war.

I don’t know why, but the thought makes me smile.

It slips off my face when Paul comes up to call me back, but Jude weaves his fingers through mine and my nervousness eases.

A little bit, at least. I wince at just the thought of a needle piercing my nipple, but that’s exactly what I’m about to do.

“It won’t hurt as much as you think it will,” Paul assures me, putting on some gloves and opening up a new set of tools.

I sit down as Jude moves behind me and force myself to go through the motions—lifting my shirt and taking my bra off, watching as Paul cleans the area and marks the entry and exit points on my nipples with a purple marker.

“Want to check it out, see if they’re even and where you’d like?” he asks, but I don’t move. I’m not sure I can move. My nerves have me rooted in place.

“Jude?”

“Hm?”

“Will you come look at them for me? Tell me if they look okay?” I might find myself embarrassed about this later, but right now, I don’t care.

I trust him. And honestly, I don’t mind it if he sees me like this.

He’s already seen all the deepest, darkest parts of me anyway.

This feels like nothing compared to all of that.

His steps are slow, measured, as he moves from behind me and turns on his heel to face me. I watch his turbulent gaze bounce between my breasts, and it’s like I can feel his stare brushing over my skin, lightly caressing my nipples.

The burn of embarrassment blazes through me, but it comingles with an unexpected burst of desire, too, both of the feelings spreading through my chest and spilling low into my stomach.

Jude closes his eyes for a long moment, before opening them and dragging them up to meet mine. “Looks good to me, Little D.”

“They’re even, right? The marks?” My words come out shaky, but I can’t tell if it only sounds that way to my ears or if he can hear it, too.

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his gaze sparking with an emotion I can’t grasp, and replies with a single nod. “You sure you don’t want me to wait outside?”

“What? No. Hold my hand. Please.”

He walks over to my side and grips my hand tightly. Maybe a little too tightly. But it takes my mind off of Paul, rolling forward in his chair and taking my breast in his hand.

Jude makes another pained sound, pinching his eyes closed.

And I can’t help it, I laugh. “Why are you closing your eyes like you’re in pain?

I’m the one about to get pierced here. And I’m kind of scared shitless, while you have nothing to worry about.

Or— oh, are they just not pretty enough for you to want to look at?

” I don’t know where the hell that statement comes from, but why does he look so worried, so tortured, when I’m the one about to have a needle shoved through my nipple?

He chokes out a laugh of his own, popping his eyes back open.

“Not pretty—not pretty enough?” He stands up taller, raking a hand through his hair.

“Are you shitting me, Declan? You’ve got the most beautiful pair of tits I’ve seen in my fucking life.

But here, at my brother’s tattoo shop, is not where I intended to see them for the first time. ”

My blush hits me with intensity, spreading way past my cheeks. Warmth hits me in places it shouldn’t—not when I’ve got another man seated between my legs.

But then Jude is striding out the door with an agitated, violent scowl on his face, and I don’t know what the hell just happened.

He looked mad, and flustered, but mad . I swing back around to that last one again, because with the way his features drew down into sharp lines, punctuating his scowl, his gaze torrent with wild…

Envy? Irritation? He was definitely angry.

With me?

I don’t think so.

“Alright, you ready?” Paul asks with an amused laugh.

I drag my gaze from where Jude walked out the door to his and nod. With the confirmation, he scoots forward on his rolling chair and takes my left breast in his hand again, needle at the ready.

“Deep breath in.”