“Not on the surface—not in a way he’s aware of, but deep down? Yeah.” She nods, shrugging. “Men like that always do. Hemay not be capable of comprehending it, but it’ll eat at him little by little every day for the rest of his life. Eventually, it’ll wither him down until there is nothing left of him at all. Meanwhile...” She grins, grasping my face and lifting my chin, forcing my eyes to meet her convicted gaze. “You’ll be soaring.”
I muster the most genuine smile I can manage, and Allie’s eyes roam upward, taking in the sign above the door of the building we stopped in front of. Her grin spreads wider—mischievous. “Wanna get tattoos?”
I snort. “We’re both in the middle of a shift.”
Her nose scrunches, eyes narrowing, gaze unfocused as she thinks through a plan. “I can talk the sisters into letting us go early.”
“Doubt it.” I roll my eyes.
“Let me make your mom her coffee and bring it to her myself, she can’t say no to me. Dahlia owes me an afternoon off anyway.” She takes my hand, pulling me with her as she skips toward the coffee shop. “Should we get pussy willows?”
“What the fuck are you saying?” I laugh as I follow her back to the bakery.
“I have threeother highly qualified artists who are more than capable of tattooing this.. . branch on you.” August eyes the image Allie has pulled up on her phone over his glasses.
“It’s a pussy willow, actually,” she says matter-of-factly.
His lip curls as his gaze darts between her and me.
“We want you to do it,” I drawl, rocking on my heels.
“Because you know I won’t charge you.”
I blink innocently.
He huffs, rolling his eyes, though a smile hides in the corner of his mouth. “Give me ten minutes to draw these up. Go wait on the back bench.”
I grin. I love both of my uncles equally, but I’ve always been closest with August. Something about us having artist’s souls, I think.
Allie and I meander through Ultraviolet, past the black chalk wall covered in decades-worth of doodles left by clients and staff, and the neon light in the center of the shop that reads:You are the artist and the art.
I hop onto the bench first, while Allie sits on a black leather couch against the wall beside me. “So... you know how I gave Declan that hall pass and told him we’d talk next month?”
“Yes . . .” I eye her suspiciously.
“Do you think it’s bad if I... maybe took a hall pass for myself too?” She winces, anticipating my reaction.
Rightfully so, because I toss her an exasperated sigh. “Really, Allie? You and Archer hooked up?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I don’t know why this summer would be any different.
Allie and Archer have had a tumultuous relationship since the first summer Allie spent here when we were teens. It got more intense after they began hooking up in high school—refusing to commit to each other because they attended different schools in different cities hours apart, but refusing to be with anyone else, either.
When Archer moved to Texas to play football, they promised to spend their college years separately, dating and falling in love with other people, with the hope that if they were truly meant to be, they’d end up together someday anyway.
Dumb in theory—far worse in real life.
Allie dates the worst men on the planet, and Archer doesn’t date at all, supposedly opting to entertain himself withmeaningless hookups instead. But when summer and holiday breaks roll around, Allie coincidentally finds herself single, and they rekindle their lingering flame until Archer leaves again.
It’s a toxic cycle that breaks their hearts time after time—one that’s proven impossible to break.
“It was just once.. .” Her voice becomes rough and emotion filled. “The night before he left.”
Archer went back to Texas two mornings ago, and I know Allie’s been eaten up over it. Regardless of their physical slip-ups, they’ve always been best friends first. It’s never easy for any of us to watch him leave—he’s the only one who has ventured so far from home—but it’s especially hard on Allie.
“I don’t think you’re a bad person for it, Alls. I just think you should end things with Declan. Period. He sucks, and you deserve to be with the person you actually love.”
“She’s not wrong,” August chimes, returning from his office with printed stencils of our tattoos. “Time is too precious to waste on anything other than the people you want to spend it with most.”
