Page 6

Keanu slowly turns toward me. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I say, lifting both hands in surrender.

“You’re thinking loudly.” Keanu narrows his eyes at me. “That’s Ross.” Keanu points his pencil at me.

“I know.” My shoulders slouch.

“He’s protective.” Keanu sets down his pencil.

“I know.”

“Bossy,” Keanu adds, not letting up.

“I definitely know,” Bossy is one of the main things I like about Ross.

“Eleven years older than you.” Keanu watches me carefully.

“I can count.” I lift an eyebrow.

“And you’re my little sister,” Keanu adds, folding his arms.

I roll my eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You'll be my little sister when you're eighty.”

“Good thing my dating decisions aren’t yours,” I tell him, picking up my sketchbook.

Keanu grimaces. “Dating decisions?”

“I was speaking hypothetically,”

“Keep it hypothetical.”

I flip him off, causing him to laugh. But when he returns to his sketch, my gaze drifts toward the window. Across the sidewalk, Ross is carrying a box from a delivery truck. Dark jeans, work boots, and flannel stretched across broad shoulders. He catches me looking, but I don't look away. Instead, I smile—slowly. His steps falter. Victory. But beneath the victory is a nervous flutter. Tomorrow, he'll sit in my chair and trust me with something permanent. Something about his parents. Something that matters. I can tease him about his shirt. I can tease him about his coffee. I can't tease him about this. I want him to see that I can be more than the girl who makes him growl every morning.

I want him to see me. Tomorrow I'm going to have that man in my tattoo chair. Possibly shirtless. Definitely grumpy. And entirely at my mercy. This might be the best appointment I've ever had. What gets to me isn't only how handsome he is. It's the care he puts into things no one asks him to do, the way his sisters relax when he arrives, the way he remembers details I barely remember telling him. I want to be the person he doesn't have to be strong for. I want him to trust me with the tired, uncertain parts of himself too. I want him to be the one I finally give my heart to.

three

Ross

“Ihate all of you,” I tell my sisters as they drag me out of the coffee shop and across the street, leaving Jude, the high schooler who works in the afternoons alone.

My sisters don't look remotely bothered. “We love you too.” Maddie pats my arm as we stop in front of temptation Ink.

“I could have gotten here by myself,” I shift my gaze between my sisters, glaring at each one of them.

“You would have escaped.” Maddie says.

“I’m thirty-five—I don't need three babysitters."

“And acting like you’re five.” Brandi adds her two cents.

“I don’t need a tattoo.”

“But you want one.” Brandi nods at the front window of the tattoo shop.

“No,” I shake my head, standing my ground.