Page 14 of The Intimacy of Skin

I frowned. “Who would sing that version to their kids? That sounds terrifying.”

Callum’s laugh was loud. Louder than I expected. “I don’t know. A lot of kids’ rhymes and lullabies are morbid as hell. When I’m having a silent disco, I think of Pop singing that to me.”

“Silent disco?”

“Oh, you know.”

“I can’t say that I do, no.”

He turned his head, looking at me straight-on, his eyebrows furrowing into a V.

Did he actually think I knew what that meant?

“Uh, like, when you freak out on the inside. Your brain gets all stupid, and things go too fast. On the outside, your face looks fine, but you’re totally losing your shit in your mind. ”

It was my turn to look at him, confused. “Aren’t discos supposed to be fun?”

“Ugh.” Callum scowled. “Not at all. They’re chaotic. Too much going on. That’s why I call it a silent disco. Pure chaos in my mind, completely calm on the outside.”

That sounded more like a personal observation than a general one. “Right. How did you know I was having a, uh… silent disco?”

A snort was not what I was expecting. Callum threw his head back until it hit the wall we were sitting against. “I have tons of them. All the time, actually. I know what one looks like.”

I nodded, deciding to enjoy the quiet in my head for now. Talking had mostly pulled me out of my head, and the smell of Callum’s smoking helped override the scent of bubblegum.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head easily.

“Got it, disco buddy.” Callum rose with a deep breath. “Well, I’d better get back to work. Layla is gonna kick my ass for being gone too long, and I’m fairly certain Tobias is plotting all our murders.” He opened the door, whispering as he slipped inside, “I don’t trust the quiet ones.”

Talking to Callum had been a whirlwind. I couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. He seemed to be close to my age, yet he was freshly unique.

Aside from Willow, I hadn’t had many friends my age, if any at all. Even with my limited experience, I knew that Callum was different. I liked him. I hated that he saw me vulnerable and knew it immediately, but I liked that he didn’t judge me.

Instead, he’d called me his disco buddy.

Mom’s voice was in the back of my mind, singing the lullaby Callum performed for me. Growing up, Mom never sang me anything like that. She would always hum songs from the eighties—shit from Phil Collins or Lionel Richie.

I blame her for my preference for old love songs and my equally strong hatred for romance.

Willow used to tease me when I’d hook up my music to the radio in her car.

Now, though, she always said it reminded her of my mom.

When we traveled together to the grocery store, she’d smile and sing along to each song that played .

Deciding it was about time I went back inside, I heaved myself up and off the ground. I knew the restaurant was close to opening, so it was likely Price would leave me alone for a while.

The back door creaked when I opened it. As I stepped inside, I noticed the office that Price had labeled as Brandt’s was open, and the door swung out close to where I stood. I could hear loud voices coming from the room, and neither of them sounded very happy.

“If you had done it right, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” a voice I didn’t recognize yelled.

“Well, as you know, that isn’t exactly in my job description.” That one was Price’s. He sounded much more level-headed, his voice firm, not raised like the other man’s.

A growl came from the other man. “It is because I say it is, Iverson. What in the fuck are we meant to do now?”

“I don’t know, Brandt. I’m kind of busy. I don’t have time for this.”

“Find the time!” Jeez, Brandt did not sound nice.

“Uh-huh, I could be doing that instead of entertaining this increasingly pointless conversation.” Price sounded almost bored.

The exasperated huff Brandt released practically echoed out of the office and all down the hallway. “Get out of my sight. Go train that kid and keep Tony in line.”

“His name is Tobias.”

I could hear heavy, determined footsteps just before Price walked out of the office. His face was scrunched and red with fire, a hint of exhaustion clouding his eyes as he turned. When he spotted me, he froze in place. “Crew, you’re back.”

What was I supposed to say to that? “Uh, yeah. Just needed a minute. I said I’d be back.”

“Yeah,” Price’s expression softened, the hard lines and blazing fire I saw just a moment ago fading. “I wasn’t sure you would.” Our eyes were locked, yet I missed the frightening flames of his. They weren’t as bright anymore. He looked worried. Or sad.

I understood sadness. I couldn’t understand the worry. Sadness came in waves, hitting sometimes for no reason at all. The worry, though, seemed directed towards me. “Don’t make me a liar, Price. I can turn around right now if that’s what you’d like and?—”

“No, wait. ”

I lifted an eyebrow at him curiously.

“Sorry. I thought I’d scared you off or something.”

That deserved an eye roll and a half. “You think you have that much influence on me, Mr. Iverson?” That was not supposed to come out so flirty.

Price’s signature smirk washed away any hesitance. “Let’s run to my office for a moment. I want to go over something with you before I’m whisked away.”

Residual tingling tickled the tips of my fingers, and my feet were still cold from the outside air.

I wasn’t sure how easily I’d survive being alone with him again, especially if he kept chewing that stupid gum.

Even less if he tried to push me, or flirt with me, or whatever it was he was doing earlier.

I straightened my shoulders and puffed out my chest, hoping some resolve would come to me if I faked it enough.

Price closed his office door behind me, blocking out most of the sound coming from the kitchen. I could distantly hear Callum laughing, and I wondered if he was actually happy or if he was having a silent disco and just covering it up.

Before Price opened his mouth, I crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”

He blinked at me for a moment. “If you take a seat, I’ll show you.”

I tried to uphold a practiced scowl on my face, still standing in the same spot. Price had been right earlier. I was attracted to him, and that terrified me. If he got too close, I might cave. If I looked pissed off, maybe he’d stay away.

“Go on.” He motioned to the chair I had sat in before.

I sat my ass in the seat, never uncrossing my arms. “Don’t you open soon?”

“Yup.” He typed on the computer keyboard, pulling a form up. “Did you hear Brandt tearing into me out there?”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure the entire world heard that. Is he always that way?”

His shoulders dipped into a shrug. “Mostly at me. Don’t worry about him. Anyway, he was mad because of an inventory mistake. The meat truck came earlier, and we only got half our usual stock.”

“Oof.” I winced .

“You can say that again.” Price sighed as he ran a hand through his short beard.

He clicked a few buttons, making the printer on his desk whir to life.

“I don’t believe in blame for this. It was a simple mistake.

It could have been me, one of the cooks, or one of the servers.

They’ve all helped when I’ve been too swamped to do it.

Unfortunately, we need to figure out what we’re going to do.

I’m going to show you how I would figure this sort of problem out.

I’d like your feedback as we make a game plan, and next time this happens, you’ll know what to do, so I don’t have to fuck with it. ”

Now I was blinking at him. My arms fell easily to my side as the feeling in my toes returned. “That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes?” he questioned.

“Oh.”

“Was I supposed to talk about something else?”

“No.” I shook my head and grabbed one of the papers that came from the printer. They were still warm, reminding me of a hug. Not that I’d know, really. The only person I’d hugged in a long time was Willow, and that was rarity in itself.

Numbers swirled in my mind, and fuck, if it wasn’t liberating. I loved numbers. The only thing I could breeze through in school was math. Price seemed pleased with my ability to sort out the numbers part and make a comprehensive plan for the inventory issue.

We went through different warehouses with delivery availabilities nearby that Matt had partnered with before and checked the numbers on a rushed delivery.

Nothing could be done today, but a new truck with the correct quantity would be arriving in the morning with a fee for the short notice.

Thankfully, it just barely fit into The Arch’s monthly budget.

The restaurant was officially open. Price had gone back and forth between me and the employees he had to watch over. I’d been so invested in the math that half of the time, I wouldn’t notice Price walk in until he pointed something out to me on the budget sheet.

Sex work was all about money. I was excited about that when I first started. Though I would never admit it, all the classes I’d taken in school had helped me tremendously.

Price sat the phone down after finishing up with the delivery people.

He had an apron on now, and I could see how hard he’d been working, the white stained with different colors, his hair damp with sweat as he pushed it off his forehead.

“I am so glad I hired you. This shit stresses me out the most. I can’t deal with numbers. ”

That surprised me. “Really? Don’t you use it when cooking?”

He shrugged. “Somewhat. Here, yeah, I measure shit and have to pay attention to time or temperature. I’m not sitting down to do complex math equations to fit expensive shit into a small budget.”

“You don’t cook at home?”

“Hm?”

“You said here. Do you not cook when you’re home?”

“Oh, I do.” His posture straightened, his shoulders squaring with the rest of his body. “It’s different, though. I shouldn’t do this with the type of food I cook at home, but if I’m being honest, I eyeball most of it.”

I didn’t have an issue with math, yet I couldn’t cook for shit, so I didn’t have enough experience to question it. “Do y’all open every day?”

“No, we’re closed Monday and Tuesday each week. Can’t do the weekends because we get so much traffic, and everything would go to shit if I wasn’t here for a day.”

I hummed in agreement. “I can tell. Brandt doesn’t help much, I’m gathering.”

“Nope.” Price laughed.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, shit.

Price laughed and smiled an open, full-tooth smile.

I was fucking mesmerized. Despite the sexy, perfect dimple on his left cheek, his top canines were what stole my attention.

They were naturally pointed and sharp-looking.

My skin prickled with want, a shiver rushing down my spine.

I bet he could pierce my skin with them.

Fuck, I wanted him to bite me. I wanted his teeth to sink into my skin, with his body lying directly on top of mine. Images of me naked, lying on my stomach while Price, naked and bare, lies over my back, flashed through my mind. Would he lick the back of my neck before sinking his teeth into it?

Would his skin match the flames in his eyes, burning me whole with the barest of touch?

I suddenly regretted not seeing Price naked that first night. All I could do was use my imagination, filling his skin with imaginary ink in my mind. It wasn’t good enough, but it was sufficient to cause an issue behind my zipper.

“You want some?” Price ruined my daydreaming, loudly picking through one of the plastic organizers on his desk.

“Some what?” I tried to fight the rush of heat that threatened to spread up my neck, across my cheeks. I peered over his desk, watching as he pulled out a piece of gum. The crappy kind I smelled on his breath earlier.

My heart picked up speed, slamming against my chest as he began to untwist the blue ends, revealing the fake pink color beneath the wrapper. I could smell it even this far away from his desk. “No!”

The sudden yell scared Price so badly, he dropped the gum, wrapper and all onto the floor. “What? What’s wrong?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed and frantic. “Don’t chew that. Please.”

“Uh…”

“Please.” I cursed the whine in my voice internally. “Not around me, at least.”

Price nodded slowly. One by one, each muscle in my body that’d tensed began to relax as he picked up the dropped gum and promptly threw it into the trash.

“Thank you.” In the distant background, I swore I could hear Mom’s voice. It was muffled, and she was singing her favorite Phil Collins hit. The melody faded under my skin, wrapping around my bones, fortifying them if only for a few minutes. “What should I do next?”