Page 4 of Blind Bite (Best Fangs Forever #1)
Chapter Four
I burst through Venom's door, the bell jingled sharply above my head.
My violet hair was windswept from running six blocks, and my chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.
Lacey owed me big time for this whole mess—the date, the paper, and now rushing here like a madwoman.
.. maybe I'll ask her to bring me one of those fancy coffees she drank like water. The kind I used to abhor making.
Krista looked up from her sketchbook, gold threads in her braids dancing in the afternoon light. A smile played at her hot pink lips. “Look who finally made it to the party.”
“Professor Holloway—“ I started.
“Girl, breathe first,” she waved her hand, “I'm just playing. Get your stuff set up.”
The comforting smell of green soap and ink welcomed me as I settled at my station.
“I've got some reference photos for you to work from.” Krista slid over her iPad. “Think you can mock up some stencils while I finish this consultation?”
“On it, Boss.” I pulled up my drawing program, falling into the rhythm of Krista's signature clean lines and delicate shading.
“How's your practice skin coming along?” she asked while I shaded.
“Getting better. The lines are cleaner now, and I finally nailed that mandala pattern you showed me.” Pride swelled in my chest. Soon I'd be doing real tattoos instead of just fake skin and oranges.
“You were right, breaking up the lines from where one begins until it meets the next helped keep them smooth.”
The ring of the door’s bell halted our conversation as a couple strutted in, dripping in designer clothes and sporting matching golden hair.
Their noses were held so high they could probably smell tomorrow's weather, and their perfectly coordinated outfits screamed 'we're influencers' louder than their actual voices ever could.
I recognized them from their social media presence around the city.
One of our star hockey players and his trust fund girlfriend.
“Welcome to Venom,” I stepped forward, but they barely glanced my way.
“We're here for Krista,” the woman said, eyes fixed on my boss. “We DM’ed about matching couple tattoos?”
“Of course! Come on back,” Krista gestured them toward her consultation area.
I watched them fawn over Krista's portfolio, the girl’s expensive perfume wafting through the air like a designer fog.
They prattled on about their social media following and how they'd feature the shop while taking the opportunity to snap selfies in front of Krista's unique decor while she approached the desk.
The neon hearts on the wall made a perfect backdrop.
“Hey can you grab stencils of the chess pieces and prep them for me?
I've gotta run to the back. They want them on their rib cages, about three inches tall.” Krista gestured on her own ribs where they wanted the placement.
I gave her a confident nod before she zoomed away and got the stencils printing.
I approached the couple near Krista's station, setting out all the prep supplies on the small table to my right and putting on gloves.
“Alright, I'm going to be helping Krista and getting you both prepped,” I said.
“She asked me to place them where you wanted these.
If you need to change your top, feel free to use the bathroom in the back, or you can just lift or remove your shirt so I can clean the area and make sure it's nice and smooth.”
The guy lifted his shirt over his head without question, flashing abs that belonged on the cover of a romance novel. His girlfriend's face turned pinched as she sneered at me. “I told you we're here for Krista. We want the actual artist.”
“Grace, she's just doing the grunt work, she's not actually tattooing us,” the boyfriend didn't flinch when I wiped the cold solution on his skin and lightly scraped the disposable razor on the area. I gently placed the king chess piece in the area and stepped back to check out the placement.
“There's a mirror over there,” I gestured to the left of the station, “let me know if you want to change the placement or size.”
Grace reluctantly let me repeat the same process on her, but not without huffing about it. She followed her boyfriend over to the mirror and squealed.
“Oh, Steven, these are going to look amazing!” She stood up and kissed the jock like they were filming the climax of a movie where the hero gets the girl.
Thankfully, Krista had returned, but not without flashing a funny look my way. “Alright, who's up first?”
Grace and Steven came back and took seats in the two empty chairs.
“You'll be the one doing the actual tattooing, right?” she asked Krista.
She narrowed her eyes at me, “we don't want them to get messed up by a newbie.” My fingers twitched against my thigh, and I fought the urge to curl them into fists, keeping my face neutral despite the familiar sting of dismissal.
Krista brushed off the ill intent with a smile. “Of course you've got me tonight. Though between us, Lili here is an amazing artist, her work is going to flood our socials soon.” She gave me a wink and I took that as my cue to flee.
My throat tightened as I melted into the shadows like a ghost, another invisible apprentice who cleaned stations and drew stencils. The 'not yet an artist' burned in my chest like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.
I busied myself with cleaning, their dismissal rolled off me like water. Their type always saw what they wanted to see - just another fixture in their carefully curated world.
That was the WithU special, what this university was known for - where trust fund babies treated the middle class like convenient stepping stones on their path to greatness.
And if you were a scholarship student, you might as well be invisible - or worse, an inconvenient reminder that not everyone was born with a platinum spoon in their mouth.
The culture shock had hit Amelie and me like a brick wall when we first arrived. While my parents could cushion my college experience with their savings, Ames survived on scholarships and determination.
There were so many days I'd come back to our dorm room and find her curled up in bed, fresh tears from the latest rich-girl power play staining her pillow.
I started stashing chocolate in my wardrobe for those moments like a secret weapon against their cruelty.
Our freshman year became a blur of lectures and late-night rom-com marathons, our own little fortress against WithU's social hierarchy.