Friday nights usedto mean something when you were part of a big family.
From my earliest memories, Fridays were family nights filled with junk food and games. As we got older, it would change. Last year, we were piling into someone’s car with the windows down and the music too loud, driving to wherever the party was. Syn would do my makeup in the bathroom while I complained that she was using too much eyeliner, and Jax threatened any guy who came near Syn or me.
Now Friday nights meant me sitting cross-legged on the couch in my comfy clothes, a half-empty bag of Sour Patch Kids balanced on my knee, a spoonful of Nutella, and my phone propped against a throw pillow while Syn’s face filled the screen.
“…and the lighting is shit right now, but once we get the fixtures in, it’s going to be incredible.” Syn was pacing through an empty storefront, her phone camera bouncing with each step. “There’s even a back room we can use for private sessions. You know, for the clients who cry.”
“Do a lot of people cry during tattoos?”
She chuckled. “You would be surprised.” She flipped the camera around to show her face, a playful smirk playing at herlips. “Speaking of which, you’re going to let me do your next tattoo, right?”
I choked on a Sour Patch Kid. “Excuse me?” I hadn’t planned on getting any more tattoos, because I was one of those people who cried when they got one.
“Come on, Har. I need guinea pigs.” She said it like she was asking me to try a new restaurant, not permanently mark my body. “You already have one. What’s one more?”
“The one I have is hidden on my back where no one can see it.” I pointed at her through the screen. “Also, I was mildly intoxicated when I got it.”
“Perfect. I’ll get you intoxicated first.”
“Syn.” I rolled my eyes, but we both knew I was going to do it.
“Harlow.” She dragged out my name the same way I dragged out hers, mocking me. “I’ve been practicing on grapefruit for months.”
“I’m not a grapefruit.”
“No, you’re way easier. Grapefruits don’t hold still. They try to roll all over the place.”
I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty living room. I missed her. I missed the way she could make anything feel like an adventure, even bad decisions.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But something small and somewhere I can hide it if I hate it.”
Syn’s face lit up like I’d handed her a winning lottery ticket. “You’re going to love it. Promise.”
I shifted on the couch, tucking my feet underneath me.
“So how’s everything else going?” I asked, desperate to fill the quiet with something other than my own thoughts. “Is Jax still being super protective? I figured he’d have the whole town under surveillance by now.”
Syn snorted. “Please. My brother is barely functioning as a human being right now.” She flopped onto what looked like afolding chair, the only furniture in the empty shop. “Between hockey, a new wife, and a baby who apparently thinks sleep is optional, he’s running on, like, two brain cells. I don’t think he’d notice if I opened a strip club instead of a tattoo parlor.”
The mental image of Jax stumbling around in a sleep-deprived haze made me smile.
“How’s Kailyn?”
“Loud.” Syn’s expression softened. “But cute.”
“You’re such a softie.”
“I will end you.”
I grabbed another Sour Patch Kid and shoved it into my mouth, letting the sour-then-sweet dissolve on my tongue.
“So.” She drew the word out, loading it with implication. “Why are you home on a Friday night?”
I gestured at my surroundings. “Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. Out? Having fun? Being young and irresponsible?” She leaned closer to the camera. “I figured with Jax gone, you would finally be unlocked. Free range Harlow. No more protective big brother breathing down everyone’s neck.”
The laugh that escaped me was bitter. “Yeah, well. Jax may have left, but apparently Owen got the memo to step into his shoes.”
