“Who was that?” I hiss.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” he says, leaning forward and giving me a kiss on the neck.
“Beckett, you can’t be serious?”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s be crazy, just once. Let me do this with you, please.”
He grabs his t-shirt and puts it back on, kissing my cheek and standing up with me in his arms.
“I’m scared,” I whisper as we say goodbye to Mocha and he takes me out to his truck, my body still wrapped around him.
“It’s ok to be scared, baby. That’s what life is all about.”
“Are you seriously trying to YOLO me right now?” I ask with a laugh, burying my face in his neck.
“Maybe,” he says, opening the passenger door for me and setting me inside the truck on the seat.
“Old man.”
He nips at my neck as I tease him. “I’ll have you know that thisold manmoves exceptionally well.”
“Oh, trust me. I’m well aware.”
He winks at me as he shuts the door and goes around to the driver’s side of the truck, getting in.
I fidget the whole way out of town. It gets to the point that he has to grab my thigh with his hands and hold my legs down.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I know, and it’s ok. That’s the point, remember?” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “I’ll be there the whole time.”
I nod my head and open my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. Maybe it’s because I’m not an impulsive person. I never have been.
I’m used to staying inside my bubble, which is why it’s been so hard for me to get out and make myself leave the house. My routine may be boring, but it’s my routine; it’s safe.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks, reaching for my hand as we pull up to a little tattoo studio on the edge of Denver.
“No,” I admit. He gives my hand a little squeeze, brings it up to his mouth, and kisses it softly.
“Come on, let’s do this, baby,” he encourages, getting out of the truck and coming around to my side, opening the door for me, and helping me out of the vehicle.
He kisses the side of my head, and for a minute, I feel like maybe we can be normal. Like this thing between us can be so much more than whatever it is now.
I let him hold my hand for as long as he is comfortable. Because for me, this doesn’t bother me. I’ve been ready to shout my feelings for him from the moment he kissed me for the first time.
He lets go of my hand as he opens the door to the little studio, and I walk in first. His hand finds its place on my lower back. It’s late, and it looks like they’re closed. The lights are dim against the already black interior.
“Beckett, my man,” a big dude says, coming out from one of the rooms.
“Charlie,” Beckett says, a small smile on his face as he embraces whoever this person is.
“How have you been, brother?”
“Alive.”
They laugh for a few seconds and catch up while I stand here trying not to let my anxiety eat me alive.
“And who’s this little lady?” Charlie asks, giving me a once over, but not in a creepy way.
