A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, and Carolina peeks in.
“Come in,” I holler, and she enters, standing before my desk.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but your next client just called and said he’ll be fifteen minutes late,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say, looking back down at my phone.
“Okay, I’ll let you know when he’s here,” she says, turning to leave. But as she does, her beautiful round ass accidentally knocks my sketchbook from the desk, and papers go flying everywhere.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she apologizes, quickly kneeling to gather the scattered papers.
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, standing and rounding the desk. “I’ll do it.”
Carolina picks up one of the papers and looks at it. She freezes. And I watch as she looks up at me, holding a sketch of her eyes. It’s capturing her golden-as-daylight almond-shaped eyes with a hint of tears, tears that are drawn in red, like blood.
Her face scrunches up, and she takes the next paper from the fallen stash. It’s a sketch of her lips. She takes another, finding a pencil drawing of her face in profile, lost in thought.
“Xander…” she starts, clearly confused.
I quickly take the sketches from her hand and gently pull her to her feet. “Could you please sanitize the tattoo area again? I need to transfer some more stencils,” I say.
“Sure,” she says, furrowing her forehead before leaving the office and closing the door behind her.
Xander was acting strangely today.Either he had a bad day, or he was intentionally ignoring me. He’s not the most talkative person in general, but today, it felt like he didn’t want me around, which made me feel uncomfortable. I tried my bestto stay out of his way and give him space, although it hurt me a bit.
Finding those sketches didn’t help either.
They’re undeniably beautiful, but also made me question how he sees me. Do I really come across as weak and broken? It seemed like he captured my pain so clearly in those drawings, and it left me feeling exposed. I thought my mask was better. No wonder he doesn’t enjoy spending time with me. I must be a nice little project for him to draw. It’s not surprising, considering Xander’s style tends to be dark and a little disturbed.
As the last customer of the day leaves, I notice a change in his mood. He no longer seems to be radiating fuck-off vibes, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with him.
“Could you grab a new box of gloves for me? They’re on the top right shelf,” Xander asks as he sanitizes the station.
Balancing on my tiptoes, I stretch to reach them, but I’m just too short. Warmth presses against me from behind. “Sorry, I didn’t consider that you’re vertically challenged,” Xander teases, amusement coloring his voice.
Oh, now you’re talking to me again?
“I can reach it. I just…” I trail off, reaching up again and stretching as much as possible when the sleeve of my hoodie slides to my elbow, taking the loosened bandage with it.
“What’s that?” Xander asks, seizing my wrist where I’m holding it up and turning me around. He tugs my wrist closer to scrutinize my arm, and I hastily pull my sleeve back down.
“Carolina, what the fuck?” he exclaims, anger seeping into his voice.
“It’s nothing,” I respond, trying to tug my arm back and avoiding his probing gray eyes.
“Did you do this to yourself?” he asks in a deep voice.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him in surprise.
Perhaps I should tell him I did it myself.
“Who did this to you?” He tries to lift my sleeve again, but I yank my arm with more force, and he releases his grip.
“It’s not a big deal. Forget about it. It’s getting late. I need to go,” I say, again dodging his gaze and attempting to sidestep him.
Xander pushes me gently against the shelf, sandwiching me with his body.
“Carolina…” He starts softly, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
