Page 44 of Inked Desires
I sigh. Before answering, I sit next to him and take his free hand:
“What’s normal? What feels good to us must be normal. Do you feel good near me?”
He nods cautiously.
“Good. I feel good near you, too. Couldn’t that be normal for us?”
He lets his hand fall and lifts his head. Doubt shines in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he says.
“You’re scared. I get it. But don’t let it win.”
He says nothing. We stay there, sitting, silent. I tried to reassure him and somehow managed to calm myself, too. There’s no answer to his question.
I just love Andrew. I want to protect him because no one did before. I want to hide him from the world, not to share him. But I have no logical explanation for this behavior. At least, none I’m ready to think about right now.
I shove that thought into a corner of my mind and stand up.
“We have to go to the studio. Work won’t do itself,” I bring the conversation back to reality.
I dress quickly in jeans and a dark T-shirt. Meanwhile, Andrew manages to get fully dressed. Our outfits are pretty similar—the only difference is his clothes fit tighter and look amazing on him. He’s simply stunning.
It’s the first time I don’t go to the diner in the morning. It feels strange and unsettling.
I head to the desk as he goes toward the kitchen.
“Do I have any consultations today?”
“No,” he answers immediately.
Good. Today, a regular client is coming for a pretty big tattoo, which will take most of the day.
Andrew reappears. He hands me a cup, which I take gratefully. Next to this man, I sleep better—but without coffee, I still can’t get going. Another addiction to add to my long list.
“Looking for something?”
“No, just checking the calendar. I still have some drawings to finish. This job isn’t just about tattooing. Sometimes my days are longer because I have projects to wrap up, and then there’s the accounting,” I complain while cracking my neck.
“I get it. But you like it, right?” he asks sincerely.“And I think you hired me for the accounting part. So you already have less to manage. Plus, we can be in the same room doing our own thing—it’s not forbidden.”
I look at him. He asks seriously.
“Sure. So, you don’t mind?”
He shakes his head, and a strange sense of relief floods me.
“It’s your job, and I work here too,” he says.“It’s part of you.”
I detect no lie in his words, which relaxes me even more.
I don’t want to think any further about why it matters so much to me what he thinks about my studio and work hours.
CHAPTER 11
ANDREW
While Arès tattoos a woman’s calf in the back room, I’m playing Solitaire on the computer. It’s not that I’m bored, but the days are long for the little work I have. My tasks mostly involve welcoming clients since anyone can walk in at any time. So I spend most of my day at the studio.
