“Man, is this where he gets the fighting from?” She smirks. “You used to be nice. Now look at you, hanging out at a tattoo shop, the kid is fighting, and then comes to a soccer game with a—is that a skull on his arm?” She stares at him as he warms up. “Oh my God, it really is a skull. I love him.”
“Yeah. Big sister of the year over here,” I grumble.
He was so excited to show it to Dane. It makes me wonder if the guys would be interested in a little party. I’m not reallymadabout it; I’d just rather Kash not do it all the time.
Last night was so hectic, I didn’t even think about mentioning it to them. Kash basically hid from me the entire night, and Atlas was glued to my side in between clients and drawing with Noah. Heseems naturally good with Noah, and I never thought that was possible. Atlas never makes me feel bad for having to take care of him.
“Holy shit.” Mara smacks my arm. “They came.”
Looking in the direction she’s pointing, I watch Atlas and the guys walking toward our field. Think of the Devil and he shall appear.
The guys look so out of place at a kids’ soccer game. I look around at the parents already camped out in their chairs, then see them in hoodies and jackets with the organization’s logo on them. I haven’t bothered buying any of it yet, but if Noah continues playing, I might have to.
Atlas is wearing dark jeans, a pair of dark sneakers with green accents, and a gray hoodie underneath his jacket. His hair is tucked under a gray beanie, a few stray pieces poking out of the front. The tattoos that wind up his neck are still visible, and I tell myself it’s only the cold that makes me shudder.
He seems deep in conversation with Rhett and has a scowl on his face. Whatever they’re talking about must not be good.
As if sensing my attention, his eyes find mine, and a smile splits his face. Fuck me, he’s beautiful when he smiles like that. It reaches his eyes and makes me want to keep it there. From what I’ve learned about Atlas so far, his life seems to have started out like mine, so he deserves every bit of happiness I can offer him.
As the guys get closer, Kash yells out, “Let’s go, Noah!” then waves at him when he turns around. Leaving the field, Noah runs over to greet them. Standing up from my seat on the bench, I tug my hat down a bit further. It’s cold as hell and I can’t wait for the season to be over.
“Look, I left the bandage on, just like you said.” He proudly shows Kash.
Having the decency to look sheepish, Kash turns his gaze to me. “Seriously, it’ll wash off in a day or two. Probably be gone by Monday; if not, we have some stuff that’ll take it off.”
As the whistle blows, I send Noah back tohis team and tell the guys they can sit with us. I guess we’re doing meet the family today, then. Mara grins, while Mila and her parents look at our little group with curiosity.
“Hey, boys. You remember Mila and Mara; these are their parents, Daniel and Willa,” I start the introductions. “These are the guys I work with at the shop.” Pointing to each one, I keep it brief. “This is Rhett, Seth, and Kash. He’s the one who gave Noah that tattoo you see on his arm. And this is?—”
“I’m Atlas.” He holds his hand out to Mr. Morgan. I don’t miss the way Daniel looks down at the tattoos that cover Atlas’ hand and twine around his neck. He’s not really judgmental, but I catch the questioning look he gives me. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Same to you, boys. Why don’t you join us?” he offers, sliding over on the benches, making space. I go to move to the side, but Atlas stops me. “Here, I brought this. I know you said it gets chilly out.” He holds up a light blue blanket.
Kash says something to Rhett, and they snicker while Seth silently stares out at the field. The game has started, so I shoot Kash and Rhett a look, and they pay attention. It’s not overly exciting, sure, it’s a bunch of seven- and eight-year-olds after all, but it’s still sweet that they came to support Noah.
Atlas drapes the blanket over our legs and puts his hand on my thigh. He doesn’t move it; he just keeps it there. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m hyper aware of his touch, and when the breeze picks up, I can smell his cologne.I will not get turned on at a kids’ soccer game.
“So, Atlas, tell me, how does one get into tattooing?” Mr. Morgan asks from behind us, as his eyes track Noah’s body on the field. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was being rude.
As he keeps his eyes locked on Noah, Atlas gives my knee a quick squeeze. “I found I really liked to draw when I was a teenager. I was working a part-time job, and a customer came in covered in them. He watched me doodling on some paper while bored and challenged me to draw something for him. He came back a week later and asked if Ihad drawn it.” He pauses a moment to cheer as Noah’s team scores, then turns his head in Mr. Morgan’s direction.
“He looked over my drawing, told me I didn’t suck, and asked if I had ever considered doing it for real. The rest is history,” he finishes, rubbing his finger in circles on my thigh.
Sitting on my other side, Mara nudges me and gestures toward the blanket. I’ve tuned out their conversation to glare at her.
Smirking, she leans back and focuses on the game. “He looks good today,” she remarks.
Watching Noah run back and forth as Matt directs from the sidelines, I nod in agreement. “Yeah. He really does.”
Mara gives me a look, then shakes her head.Okay then.
“I keep telling Mara we should get some new ink. Do you guys have any openings?” Mila asks.
Kash looks at Mila in surprise. “You have a tattoo?”
“Tattoos. Plural.”
“There’s no way.” Kash looks her up and down. “Where?”
