Page 6 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

ZACH

T he guys are already plastered. They are hugging and laughing over something.

It makes me laugh, too, to see them like that, their earlier fight forgotten.

They like each other most of the time. I mean, they were friends and roommates before I got the third room in the apartment, and I hope they remain that way, the two asshats.

Lifting my glass, I finish my Scotch and soda and lick my lips. I nod at the bartender to get me another.

Not wasted enough yet.

Not nearly enough.

At every turn I think I see Coco’s face, her smile, her bright eyes, her curves.

I have this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t quit, and the more I try to drown the feeling in liquor, the stronger it seems to get.

What the hell, right?

“Go easy on the booze, Zach, my boy.” Ezra pushes away from Gael to wrap a heavy arm over my shoulders. “You’ll get hammered.”

“I thought that was the idea.”

“We already are hammered! What about alclol... alcolol... alcohol poisoning?”

“We’re way past that,” I snort.

“Hm.” He frowns, giving this some thought. “Ya think?”

Gael slaps me on the back. He’s still laughing uproariously, and that sets me off again. Everything seems kind of funny right now, and when the bartender hands me my cocktail, I down it in one go.

Damn, I’m thirsty.

A pretty chick presses her round tits to the bar and flags the bartender down. I watch her, still breathlessly laughing, watch the soft mounds pressing into the bar, and lust floods my blood.

Only it’s not her face I see, it’s another, large eyes and a small, plump mouth, framed by pink hair...

“Let’s go then!” Gael crows and slaps me again on the back.

I blink. “What? Where?”

“To get that tattoo!”

“What tattoo?”

“Oh come on, don’t be a fucking spoilsport.” Ezra grabs my arm and pulls me away from the bar. “You said you wanted one.”

“Did I? When?”

And then I turn around and there she is, in the flesh. The real thing.

Coco…

I mean, I think it’s her. Is it really her? I almost reach out to touch her face but she flinches away.

That’s not funny at all. If it’s really her, she’s scared of me, and if it’s not, then I’m losing my goddamn mind.

“Zach,” she whispers, so that means it’s her, I guess?

“Coco,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”

The stupidest question ever asked. It’s a bar. She probably hangs out here often. It’s I who doesn’t get out often enough.

“I’m here with the girls,” she says. I watch her mouth move and I’m too drunk to get really hard but my dick is valiantly trying. Her mouth on my mouth, her mouth around my cock, her mouth open as she moans, as she comes?—

“Come on, man.” Gael hauls me away from her. “We’ll be late.”

“Late for what? Wait?—”

“We’ll walk, it’s not far.”

“What isn’t?” Twisting my head, I see Coco diminishing as if in a nightmare, while I yearn to get back to her, but invisible forces are dragging me away. “I said, wait.”

“I know just the man. You’ll thank me later,” Ezra says, and then I have a blank.

* * *

I blink and I’m on the street, stumbling between Ezra and Gael. I know the neighborhood. It’s not far from the gym where I work.

My head is spinning. Am I sick?

No, I’m drunk. Wasted. And the guys are hauling me as if they are on a fucking mission.

“Where are we going?” I slur.

“We said we’d get a tattoo,” Ezra says. “Forgotten about it already?”

“Are you serious? Now?”

Ezra clucks his tongue at me. “The shop is open until late. Told ya, I know just the man.”

“Who?”

“Ryder. Ryder Kassidy at Ink and Shadows. He tends to work afternoons and evenings. I’ll give him a call.”

“Ah, I don’t know, man.” I laugh. “I don’t even know what tattoo I’d get.”

“Trust the artist. He’ll know what you need.”

“ Trust the artist? Are you serious? Ink is permanent, dimwit. Trust the artist, my ass.”

But the man answers the phone and apparently he’s closed the shop but can open it for us as he lives close by.

Are we really doing this?

It seems we are.

“It will be fucking great,” Gael says. “I’m getting a mermaid. Always wanted one.”

“I want a bird,” Ezra says.

“A bird?” Gael laughs. “Just any goddamn bird?”

“Yeah, fucker, any goddamn bird the artist puts on me is fine.” He winks. “The man is hot. Wait until you see him.”

These guys are insane. How did I end up living with such weirdos?

The tattoo shop is familiar, I think as we enter. I’ve passed outside a million times but never made up my mind to enter. I know Ronin, one of the tattoo artists working there. He’s an alpha in my dad’s pack, and...

A tall, muscular man with dark hair shaved at the sides and a lip ring walks toward us.

I blink. Whoa, who is this guy? His face is sharp and angular, softened by his wide mouth, his eyes are amber, his cheekbones cut, and he has ink reaching all the way to his chin.

He looks dangerous and hot.

For a man.

Just to be clear.

“Come on in,” he says. “I hope you fuckers don’t want anything big and complicated. Tomorrow is my day off and I can stay late, but I’m not as clear-headed as I’d be in the morning. Sure you don’t wanna wait until next week?”

“Nah, we’re getting that ink tonight,” Ezra says. “No time like the present.”

“That’s right,” Gael choruses.

I should protest again. I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing here. Ink hadn’t been on the program.

But I’m tongue-tied, still staring. My pants are starting to get kinda tight. What the hell? I’m not into alphas, I’ll say this right off the bat. I’m not much into guys, either. I’m more into soft, pretty omega girls.

Like Coco.

Thinking of her brings on a fresh wave of lust, and I’m totally fucked.

It takes me a moment to realize that the guy—Ryder—is staring right back at me, one dark brow arched. “I’ve seen you around before.”

I produce an inarticulate noise.

“You’re all hammered. This looks like a drunk “let’s get a tattoo” night. You might regret it tomorrow.”

Wouldn’t be the first time. Is it normal to go out with the express purpose of getting wasted every time, as if… to escape? What am I trying to escape from?

“And what design did you have in mind?” Ryder asks.

“Zach wants you to choose,” Gael says.

I growl. “Gael?—”

“A phoenix,” Ryder says, folding his inked arms over his chest.

And I’m back to staring.

“Really?” Even Ezra sounds skeptical.

I’m just gone, lost in a pair of golden eyes and rapidly losing all control of the situation.

“Something that transforms and transcends life,” Ryder says. “Breaking darkness apart. Remaking you.”

“You sure, dude?” Ezra frowns. “This guy has no darkness in him. He’s like sunshine in a bottle. What you see is what you get? That sort of thing.”

“The guy with no darkness in him doesn’t exist,” Ryder says. “No guy is ever happy with his lot in life. Every man wants to be reborn into the life he deserves.”

“He’s drunk,” I say, then consider what I said. “Fucking hell, are you drunk?”

Ryder frowns, then suddenly grins. “Yeah. Plastered.”

That’s fucking hilarious.

We’re about to be inked by a drunk artist. I’m about to get a phoenix because I am, apparently, a man with dark secrets I won’t even admit to myself. And the tattoo artist is getting my dick almost as hard as the one girl I’ve ever lusted after.

Tomorrow I won’t know what hit me...