The sun set without me noticing as I was buried in the collection of images of Seb and his clients. The clock showed it was past 10:00 p.m. I had been working on this campaign for over four hours.
I went to my bathroom to do my nightly skincare routine and brush my teeth. Instead of getting into bed, I trotted across the hall like I was the Grinch… just like I did every night when I got home before him. I climbed into Seb’s bed, wrapping myself in the musky scent of him like a cloak. I only had about an hour before he would be home, but I would enjoy it while it lasted. He had almost caught me in his bed once already. He was drunk that night, and that was the only reason he didn’t notice that I came out of his room instead of my own. I wouldn’t be that lucky tonight, so I had to make sure to keep an eye on the time. My mind wandered down a path of what-ifs as I lay there.
What if I hadn’t left all those years ago?
What if he wasn’t my brother’s best friend?
What if I didn’t have a cargo hold’s worth of emotional baggage dragging behind me?
What if none of that mattered anyway?
16
Sebastian
Despite the wet, rainy spring we had been having, business was finally starting to turn around. Bills were getting paid, groceries were stocked, and I even had enough extra to pay Luke back on some funds he had loaned me. He tried not to accept it, but that wasn’t how I rolled. I needed to pay him back, even if it was only for my own conscience.
Movement in front of my shop caught my attention. I closed out of my banking app and went to see what was going on. Lydia was crouched low, almost sitting on the ground, with her camera in her hand. She wore an oversized sweater over a pair of shorts that were riding up her thighs in that weird position she was in. A peek of her upper thigh tattoo was visible, pulling my gaze.
“What are you doing?”
“I realized we didn’t have any good shots of the exterior,” she explained.
“So why not just take a picture? Why do you have to get on the fucking ground for it?” I reached my hand out to help her to her feet. Her soft palm glided over mine, and a tingle ofawareness swept through me.
She stood, brushing the loose gravel off her legs and butt. “Look. This is why.” She showed me the shots she had just taken, the sun partly blocked by the edge of the roof, the angle making the storefront appear grander than it was. She moved back a few images, and I could clearly see the difference the angles made in the outcome of the photos.
“Okay, you have a point. The other ones are better,” I told her.
“Stand over there,” she demanded, pointing at the brick siding.
“You’re awfully bossy, little wild,” I chided playfully. “What, am I supposed to pose or something?” I curled my biceps in a classic strongman pose. That got a laugh from her, and she actually snapped a picture of it. I tried a few other poses until she glared at me over the top of her camera.
In the end, I stood stock-still with my arms crossed, resting against the wall, while she moved up and down the street, capturing pictures from various angles. I tried to keep the smile off my face as I watched her in her element. In the past four months, Lydia had gone from snappy and guarded to this happy, creative version of herself—albeit with attitude. She was still Lydia Wilder, after all.
After my half-day session with Anthony from Millie’s Pizza, I cleaned my station and hit the bathroom. When I came back, Lydia had set herself up in my tattoo chair, lounging on it like she was Cleopatra.
“Don’t let this go to your head,” she started, her lips pulled into a tight line like she was trying not to smile. I was already grinning before she had a chance to get to the point. “But that piece came out fantastic. Anthony was pumped. Did you seehis face as he was checking out his arm from every angle?”
“Yeah. That’s probably my favorite part of tattooing. Watching their reaction when they finally get to see it completed. You want me to put some ink on you?” I asked, shooting her a wink. Out of the blue, I desperately wanted to put my mark on Lydia. She had some work already. Other people’s art that she could look at every day.
She chewed her bottom lip. She was contemplating it; I could see it in her eyes.
“We can get matching roommate tattoos,” I pushed with a smirk. “What do you say?”
A strange look passed across her face; any playfulness from a moment ago was gone. “That’s a hard pass. I already have one matching tattoo that I have to see every day. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Ah. Secret tattoo number four,” I said, my gaze zeroing in on that spot on her leg. “So, there is a story there.”
“Just a mistake.”
“Nah, I don’t believe that. Getting the Chinese symbol for water when you think it means happiness or a tribal band around your arm, those are mistakes.”
She looked away from me, apparently in no mood to chat. It was past 10:00 p.m. now, the light from inside contrasting with the darkness outside making it impossible to see out the large front windows. Through the reflection on the glass, I could see Lydia tracking me across the space to lock up.
“I hate it.”
I nearly tripped over my own feet when she spoke, the venom in her voice holding a weight I wasn’t prepared for. I set the lock in place and tried to control my already elevated heart rate with my hand on the door.
