I draw the needle with a steady, smooth rhythm as shading fills the tattoos. Drew doesn’t tense, but instead gives himself over to me like the most seasoned clients while the art comes to life.
“Nebula Invader,” I say, admiring the beautifully kitschy spaceships. “Hell of a tattoo, kid. I like it.”
Drew laughs softly, still keeping his arm steady for me. “Because you’re a dork.”
I lift the machine and squeeze hard to make it whirr louder, like I’m threatening him with it. “Watch it.”
Drew settles back in. “Why do you like this stuff? Not tattooing, I understand that. But the action figures and sci-fi movie posters and geeky stuff? I don’t think I ever asked you.”
I grunt as I go back to work. “Didn’t you say how nice it was, that I never asked you why you liked arcade games?”
“Okay,” he acknowledges, then laughs again. “But I still want to know.”
I frown as I concentrate on the work, thinking about his question but mainly giving my attention to the tattoo. Drew doesn’t push, and after a long, comfortable silence, I finally have an answer.
“My whole life, spaceships and robots and crap like that has just made me happy. It’s an escape, and hell if I don’t love the art, too, campy shit that most people don’t appreciate.”
“It does feel pretty special to love stuff that other people ignore.”
I nod, my eyes still on the work as I move delicately across Drew’s skin. “You get all happy every time you look at your arcade games. Rafael has been obsessing over robots all summer. My client with all the faeries just called for a new appointment.” I pull the machine back and shrug. “I don’t know. I like it when other people get happy about their stupid shit.”
Drew grins. “My softie.”
I grunt. “Give me that arm again.”
He must be satisfied with my answer because he doesn’t ask any more questions, and I’m happy to go back to working. The piece isn’t a hard one—I could ink it on a client in my sleep—but Drew being who he is, it earns the extra focus.
He’s here in my hands, right where he should be. I’ll take him back to his home soon, but every stab of the needle is a promise I’m making, to myself and to him.
After so many years shut down from these feelings, I still don’t have all the words that I wish I did. But I’m inking Drew now, and he and I both know this is just the start of something much bigger.
CHAPTERTWENTY
DREW
“I can’t believeyou’re leaving. I started to think you lived here.”
I’m at Piper’s for a goodbye breakfast, waiting for Caesar to pick me up. We’re both on the couch, sitting cross-legged and facing each other as we pass a gigantic piece of heavily iced lemon bread back and forth.
“I’ll be back. Really soon,” I promise. “Just as soon as I figure my life out.”
Piper gives me a sympathetic smile. “Even if you just come for a weekend.” She stabs some more lemon bread with the fork. “I know you won’t need a place to stay, but make sure you hit me up.”
“I will,” I promise. My hand rests on my new tattoo. It looks amazing with all the shading done, like an actual work of art. “And if I disappear again and you don’t hear from me, please call.”
Piper grabs my hand. “Promise.”
“I need the updates on Gym Butch.”
“Cameron,” she purrs happily. Piper and Gabriella have had two dates with the new woman, purely sexual, and they’re eagerly all planning a third night. She looks up to me with a grin. “I think she’s literally the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I laugh and take the plate from her. “You’ve said that a few times.”
“It’s just so cool. Either of them could lift me up on their own, but when we’re all together…” She fans her face and laughs.
“Caesar can practically throw me over his shoulder.”
Piper laughs. “Aww, cute. I’d love to see that.”
