For the past week, Bellamy has been at my studio unless he has a call with his club. Yesterday was the first day I didn’t see him. I only received a message before bed, and I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m not proud of it because he never gave me any reason not to trust him, but I thought maybe my sister got to him.
Again, I’m not proud of it, especially since he didn't once look her way five days ago. I guess the messages she sent me claiming he’s too good for me and should be with her were bound to get in my head at some point.
“Just call him and stop being a wuss,” I mutter to myself, and I grab my phone and unlock it, refusing to allow my mind to make crap up.
A picture of him and me that my dad took flashes before me, and my heart flutters, the feelings I thought I’d never feel for someone slowly creep in.
I’m looking up at him like he hangs the moon while he’s half smiling at the camera.
“Okay, I’ve got this,” I whisper, then, taking a deep breath, I find his number, and without thinking too much of it, I press on his name and put the phone to my ear.
“Hey, baby, everything alright?” he answers on the fifth ring, concern lacing his voice, and I slowly close my eyes with relief.
I thought it was going to go to voicemail, and the relief I feel is choking me.
“Hey, I’m not interrupting, am I?” I ask hesitantly, hearing some buzzing in the background.
“Nah, I’m just at the tattoo shop,” he replies, and I swallow hard.
Did he get a chair, or is he getting a new tattoo? Though I’m not sure where he’d get one, his body is covered in them. I only noticed them when he wore the button-down shirt with a few buttons undone.
“Are you there all day?” I ask, and the buzzing stops for a moment.
He replies, “No, just this morning. Why don’t you come down? I want to show you something.”
My eyes widen a little bit in shock at the offer, and I stutter, “O-Okay,” then whisper, “I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Great.” He says, and I swear I can hear the smile in his voice as he rasps, “I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up, drop my arm, and take another deep breath. The disappointment I felt at the thought of him being busy makes me realize how much I want him at the show.
"Dammit, I should have just asked him five days ago!" I mutter before grabbing my bag and storming out, disappointed he might miss my show.
***
“Can I help you?” a woman standing behind a glass desk that is full of jewelry asks eight minutes later, because yes, I timed it, as I walk into Hills Tats and Piercings, and I swallow hard.
She has her pierced brow raised as her dark purple eyes, which have to be contacts, look me up and down. Not in a ‘wow, I love her jeans’kind of way, no, she’s judging me, which is funny considering her spiked hair is dark orange, and her crop top barely covers her breasts.
“I uh, Bellamy asked me to meet him here,” I say, and she gives me a funny look.
“There is no Bellamy, you’re at the wrong place, sweetheart, so why don’t you get your snobby ass out of here and get lost?” she sneers, and I sigh.
It has to be the low bun that makes her think I’m snobby right?
Shaking my head, I grab my phone from my pocket and bring up Bellamy's name before calling.
“You here?” he answers after three rings, and I confirm, “In reception.”
“Seed, I’ll be right back,” Bellamy says, and a deep voice replies, “No problem, Cage,” and I furrow my brows as the phone goes dead.
Did he just hang up on me?
I pull my phone away and frown before I hear heavy boot steps and look up just as the receptionist husks, “Hi Cage…” While biting her black nail.
He completely ignores her as he strolls my way. My stomach flips at the intensity he has aimed at me, but I grin wide as he walks right up to me and cups my cheeks with his rough, strong hands, and I grip his cut just as realization hits me.
She called him Cage.
