Because Kevin’s tattoo had taught me something beyond what not to get tattooed. I sure as fuck didn’t want regrets.
Chapter two
Nyx
The slew of regulars on my schedule promised a pretty chill day.
Longtime clients were always better than walk-ins. You knew what to expect, plus, the shit clients didn’t last long at Alchemy Ink. Not only would I kick their asses to here and back, but Owen or the other guys would jump in too. We didn’t tolerate asshole clients.
Annoying clients, sure, but my book was usually full of repeats, so they were few and far between.
Like the No Regrets guy two weeks ago.
His girlfriend had been sexy as hell, though. Damn shame she was shackled to him. The memory of her hot-as-fuck curves in that gingham pink-and-white dress imprinted in my brain. Samewith those pouty pink lips, big blue eyes, and blonde waves. The girl was all sorts of gorgeous and not my type.
At least at first glance. However, the sardonic gleam in her eyes displayed a world-weariness I fucking got. And when a blush rose to her cheeks, when she started flirting back? Goddamn, she turned into the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
“Daddy Owen is all pissy today.” Rory plunked onto the table where I sketched. My art as of late had been gothic horror, and my current piece was more vampire sexiness. Sue me; I had a fixation.
I glanced up at Rory. Our pretty little twink piercer was a vital part of the crew, even if he was a shit-stirrer and hyper to the extreme. His dark hair was swept to the side today, his tattoos peeking out past his collar, and his mischievous blue eyes crinkled in amusement.
“What did you do?” I asked, not stopping my sketch.
Rory slapped a palm to his chest. “Me? Why do you assume I did anything?”
I looked up with an arched brow.
“Okay, so maybe I asked if a wild animal bit him,” he said, a glimmer in his gaze. “But honestly, his hookup had to be part beast.”
I snorted. “Yeah, that’d do it.” Unlike Rory, who shared the lurid details of his hookups, Owen was a bit more private. God, I needed a hookup something fierce, but finding one wasn’t as easy for me as the guys. Not only could they hop on Grindr, but whenever I went on a date, I always had to kick off with the “Hey, I’m trans” shit. As if my dating profile didn’t make that clear enough with the trans flag plastered everywhere, but after a few bad dates, lesson learned.
“What, feeling jealous?” Rory teased. Man, this kid was begging for a spanking.
I leveled another look his way. “Absolutely,” I deadpanned. “Give me that sweet, sweet dick.”
Rory cackled. “Sounds hella convincing, Nyxie.”
My phone buzzed with a text, and I glanced at the screen. Unknown number. Wasn’t the first time I got hit up out of the blue. Everyone and their mother liked to use my private DMs to ask questions about tattoos, which annoyed the fuck out of me.
Curiosity got the better of me. I checked it, even with Rory watching.
It’s Becky from the other week. I happen to be single, if your offer is still on the table?
Oh, shit.
I fumbled so fast to respond that my phone almost flew from my hand.
Hell yes. When are you free for a date?
That, I hadn’t expected. My heart thundered, and I felt Rory’s curious stare, but I ignored him as those three dots danced across the screen.
I just finished my long days for the week, so Thursday or the weekend?
Fucking perfection. Weekends weren’t always the best for me—tattoo artist hours weren’t the typical 9-5—but I doubted vet hours were either.
Thursday. I’ll send you the details in a few.
Goddamn. A tremble rushed through my fingers, adrenaline I hadn’t felt in far too long. I hadn’t broached the trans thing with her, and I probably should. Ugh. Before I lost the nerve, I shot the text.
