Chapter Two
Evie
Starbucks. The one place you could count on finding almost anywhere. I grew up in a small town right outside of Austin, and even we had one. The line was long, but it was moving quickly. I studied my surroundings, breathing in the familiar scent of sweet and bitter. Everyone in here looked younger, around my age. Which made sense; this was the closest coffee place to campus.
“Did you hear Evie James is going here?”
My face heated when I heard my name. I immediately ducked my head, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Not wanting anyone to notice that I was here, that I was bound to be blushing.
“Yeah, my little sister is friends with her suitemate.”
Well, isn’t this such a small, miserable world? I glanced to the side, wondering if I could make it back out the door without them seeing me. Did they even know what I looked like? It’s not as if there were pictures of me all over the Internet or anything; my parents never allowed that to happen.
“I saw her on campus today. I invited her to our mixer tomorrow night.”
Hannah? I peeked up through my dark hair. Yep. The trophy wife in training was sitting about three feet away from me. Was I being punished? Did the universe hate me? Did God? God couldn’t possibly hate me. I’d never sinned in my life.
“Well, my sister’s friend said that she’s ridiculously boring.” The second girl paused. “Like doesn’t party, doesn’t joke, doesn’t drink. We’re talking virginal saint in ballet flats.”
I glanced down at my feet. These shoes cost two hundred dollars—it’s not like they weren’t fashionable. Geeze. What did they expect? Me to walk in wearing thigh-high boots and a tiny leather dress? I sighed and moved up another place in line.
“Like I give a shit.” Hannah let out this gross, mocking laugh. “She’s Evie James. Her dad is in the Devil’s Share. Her family owns and operates RiffRaff Records.” I stole another glimpse their way. “Can you imagine the perks of having her rush Kappa Delta? She can cower in the corner for the next two years for all I care. In fact, that would be even better for me. I need her name, and if she doesn’t have a rock and roll attitude to go with it? That just means more attention on the rest of us.”
So not only was Hannah a blonde Barbie clone of a person, she was a raging bitch too. She wanted to use me; she planned to use me. How did she know what I looked like? Did she seek me out today on campus? I moved up another place, mumbling my order on autopilot. Tall blonde vanilla latte. When the barista asked me my name I froze. I didn’t want them to call out Evie and alert Hannah and her shitty friend that I’d heard everything they said. “Emmie.”
There. That would work. I walked to the other end of the counter, turning my back to them while I fought another round of tears and waited for my order. I guess that meant I could skip the damn mixer tomorrow. I didn’t want to be around people that wanted to use me. If I was Landry, I would march up to those girls and tell them where they could shove their perks. If I was Halen, I’d roll my eyes and send them a sweet smile and wave as I walked past their table.
But I was Evie, and I hated confrontation. So I’d let them get away with talking about me like that. I’d shy away and slink back to my room, where I’d probably hide until classes started. I’d ask for a room transfer, I’d get a single and live alone.
I should go ahead and start collecting cats now.
***
I decided against going back to my dorm, too afraid that I’d have another run-in with Samantha. I couldn’t take that, not right now when my sense of self was already starting to fray. Instead, I was strolling along Greenville Avenue with my latte in hand. I thought I looked like I belonged; at least I didn’t think I looked out of place. I studied everyone I passed, gauging their clothes against mine. Granted, I didn’t dress like rock royalty, but I also didn’t look odd in this uppity city. The twinge of homesickness I felt in my gut hadn’t lessened. If anything, it was more of a gnawing ache now. People thought I was a boring virgin.
How was that even a snap judgment? Like how could you tell that after only knowing someone for twenty-four hours? The kids back in high school, they’d known me since kindergarten. Their assessments made sense, and I honestly didn’t fault them for it. But these bitches? Wow. They were really mean.
My drink was almost gone, and there was a trashcan coming up on my right. I stopped, enjoying my last few sips. I can’t tell you what made me look up, but the second I did, I couldn’t help but grin.
The sign hanging above my head read “Revival Ink” in typewriter print. I didn’t realize that they had a location here in Dallas. Revival Ink was where my dad and all my uncles got their work done in Austin. My smile grew as I pictured my dad’s rib tattoo My girls, My whole world. Although I was pretty sure he got that one in New Orleans right before I was born.
Maybe this outing was exactly what I needed. To see the truth about the girls that supposedly wanted to be my friends, and get rid of the homesickness that was about to consume me and send me running back to Austin.
I took another sip of my drink, a rebellious little thought forming in my otherwise obedient head. Tattoos weren’t boring, not at all. And for some reason I felt drawn to the familiarity of the parlor. The signage reminded me of home, and the thought of ink on my skin reminded me of my family. I couldn’t really do anything about the way I dressed—not today anyway, all the stores were closing. And I was a virgin; Samantha had hit the nail on the head with that one. But a tattoo? I could do a tattoo, and better yet, I wanted to.
I, Evie James, wanted to do something a little spontaneous, a little edgy. A little rock and roll.
I tossed my now empty cup in the trash and pushed open the large glass door, a bell dinging overhead announcing my arrival.
“Oh, no, nope.” A young guy with a shaved head and tattoos creeping up his neck waved his hands in front of him. “I’m out, Nicky. If I have to do one more arrow or infinity sign or butterfly today, I’ll go crazy.”
I frowned, looking over my shoulder. Was he talking about me? There was no one else in the waiting area. Who was Nicky? Was he confusing me with another girl? “Uh, I’m sorry?”
“Look. I’m sure you’re a really nice chick, but I can’t do another small girly tat today.” He shook his head, his ice-blue eyes wide and almost pleading. He was thin and his black Henley looked well worn. Despite his somewhat rude words, his expression was apologetic. He was cute, cute in the way my younger cousin Jett was. Like I wanted to hug him and then take him out for ice cream. “I’m sorry, I am.”
“Oh, uh, okay.” I still couldn’t really figure out what he was getting at. Were they about to close? “Do I need to make an appointment or something? I—”
“You scaring away customers again, Bleu?” Another guy walked up from the back, grabbed the blue-eyed dude and shook him playfully. This guy, the new one? Was gorgeous. In a way that didn’t remind me of any family members. He had dark hair, longer on top and messy. His jawline was chiseled and his nose straight. He was taller than his friend by a few inches, his frame bordering on lanky. “You’re bad for business, you know that, man?” He chuckled and shoved Bleu—I assumed that was his name—out of the way. He leaned his forearms on the desk in front of him. They were covered in ink and the most attractive arms I’d ever seen. “What can I help you with?”
His smile was kind, his green eyes playful. He was an innately happy, handsome, tattooed should-be model. And I had to pick my jaw up off the floor before answering him. “I, uh, I wanted a tattoo.” I darted my eyes to the left where Bleu was now quietly sketching on a large light table. “But if you guys are busy or whatever, I can come back.”
“Nonsense.” He waved away my concern, standing up to his full height. “Bleu here has inked one too many sorority chicks today.” He winked, making butterflies take flight in my stomach. “No offense.”
“None taken.” I also had a low opinion of sorority chicks after today. Plus, I understood better than probably any other SMU student how tattoo artists felt about doing the same small pieces over and over. Nearly every person in my family had tattoos, and most of them large works of art. “I have a picture of what I want.” I pulled my cell out of my purse and scrolled through my photos until I came to the one I was looking for.
I stepped closer to the desk, handing him my phone.
“Wow. Really?” He looked up, eyebrows raised and smile growing wider. I nodded and he let out that small chuckle again. “Bleu, buddy, you missed out.”
“What? What does she want?” Bleu stood, reaching for my cell.
The other guy held it up higher out of his reach. “Nope. No take-backs.” He kept my phone over his head as he headed back in the direction he’d come. “Follow me, pretty girl.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m Nick by the way.”
“Evie.” I kept my head ducked, afraid that he’d see the blush on my cheeks. He’d called me pretty, and he was almost too cute to look at.
“Nice to meet you, Evie.” He held open a frosted glass door, waiting for me to step into the small sterile-smelling room. “Is this your first tattoo?” I nodded again, afraid that if I tried to speak he’d hear the slight tremor in my voice. I wasn’t scared, but now that I was looking around, seeing all the equipment? I was a little nervous. “You picked a hell of a piece for your first time.” He started sketching the image I’d shown him on transfer paper. Every stroke sure and steady.
I watched in fascination as he drew up my tattoo in mere minutes, adding small elements here and there to make it unique. He was a really talented artist, which didn’t surprise me. Every tattoo I’d seen come from Revival Ink back in Austin had been flawless and one of a kind.
“There a story behind it?”
He spun around on his little black stool, his hands on his ripped-jean-clad thighs. He had black ink on each and every knuckle, but I couldn’t really make out what they said. “I, uh, I saw the image in a book once. I like that at first glance it appears to be one thing, but the longer you look the more you see.” It was a picture of flowers, almost like a line of wildflowers. But then the longer you studied it, the flowers morphed into the image of a skull. The eyes, the nose, and mouth. I’d been in love with it instantly, and I’d always kept it saved.
“Where do you want it?”
I tried not to blush as Nick’s eyes traveled up and down my body. “My thigh.” His eyebrows rose to his hairline again and I rushed to explain myself. “It’ll be the easiest place to keep covered.” I rarely wore short skirts or dresses, and the only time I was ever in a swimsuit I was around family. Although I was sure my parents wouldn’t be thrilled about a tattoo, they wouldn’t be mad either. That would be the rock and roll pot calling the kettle black.
“Okay.” He pursed his lips, staring at my cropped ankle pants. “You’ll need to take your pants off.” He stood and pulled a blanket out of the cabinet above his head. “You can cover up with this, and then I’ll move it around as I go.” He placed it on the bed and then turned his back to me. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
He was kind. There was really no other way to describe the tattooed god. He wanted me to feel comfortable, he wanted me to trust him. I made the right decision coming in here tonight, and all my nerves were vanishing into thin air. I no longer felt homesick either. I felt connected to my family. I felt grounded, like I was exactly where I needed to be.
After I removed and carefully folded my pants, I sat down on the cool leather table and let my bare legs swing under the safety of the blanket. “How do you, uh, how do you want me?”
Nick spun around on his stool once again. His gaze raked from the top of my head down to my pink painted toes. Then he cleared his throat, like he was having trouble finding words. And I was once again blushing. Did he like what he saw? I doubted that was the case. I was a plain, virginal disappointment; ask anyone in Dallas.
“Lay down on your side.” He looked away, busying himself with a rubber band around his tattoo gun while I adjusted myself and the cottony grey blanket that smelled like fabric softener.
“Like this?” I had the covers off my thigh up to my hip, otherwise I was fully covered and bundled up. Still, I didn’t feel nervous or uncomfortable. I liked Nick. He was gorgeous, but more than that, he was nice. And I was for sure running low on niceness today.
“Perfect.” He fired up his gun and I started to bite my lower lip. He noticed, and I know that because his eyes fixed on my mouth and stayed there for several seconds. I felt my cheeks flush red at the attention and then, almost instantly, his gaze softened. “This is a pretty big piece for your first time, we can do the outline this evening and then—”
“I want the whole thing,” I interrupted him, and then felt bad about it. “I’m sorry. I just, I really want it all at one time. If that’s okay with you.” I bit my lips together. “I mean, if you have other appointments or whatever, I can come back.” I didn’t want him to think I was rude. I wasn’t trying to be. I couldn’t really explain it, but I had to have the whole tattoo, right now. It was important, and I was almost craving it or something.
“You’re my last client for tonight. We can do the whole thing if you’re up for it.” He put his hand on my bare thigh, his black glove softer than I thought it would be. “I need you to let me know if you need a break though, okay? I don’t want you passing out on my table.” He winked.
“Okay.” I nodded, taking a deep breath.
Nick’s hands on my skin felt better than they should. He was about to ink me, permanently. We weren’t on a date, he wasn’t flirting with me...at least not in an overt sort of way. I needed to get my mind off how attractive he was. This wasn’t me; I didn’t usually notice hot guys, and I never longed for them to keep touching me. The dates I’d been on in high school had all been PG. All of them. But there was something about Nick, something about his winks and his little chuckles. I wanted more. For the first time in my life, I wanted more.
The needles pierced my thigh and I narrowed my eyes, clenching my teeth.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” And I was. It was uncomfortable, but almost in a good way. I liked it. Was that weird? Was I some kind of deviant? It was like an adrenaline rush or like a high. I’d rarely drank, certainly never got drunk. And I never smoked with my cousins. My system, my whole damn body, was pretty much as pure as it came. But this, I could get addicted to this. And him, if I was being honest.
Nick stopped and I glanced over at him, meeting his smiling gaze. “You like it, don’t you?”
I bit my lower lip harder, trying to keep myself from grinning. “I, uh…”
His eyes moved to my mouth, widening slightly before moving away. “It’s okay.” He chuckled and got back to work. “Totally normal, tons of people like getting tattooed. It’s a rush.”
He was right. Everything about this experience was a rush. We were both silent for a little while. I watched him ink me, and he kept his attention on my skin. After a few minutes he cleared his throat again. “How did you hear about us?”
“My dad and all my uncles get their work done at the Revival Ink in Austin. I recognized the sign when I was exploring the area this evening.” When I was walking around, homesick and forlorn. Hating stupid mean girls as well as my boring self.
“Oh yeah? Waylon, the owner, is my uncle. I did my apprenticeship there in Austin before I came to Dallas and opened this place for him.” He paused and readjusted his hand. “Who is your dad? Maybe I’ve met him.”
And this was the part I always hesitated. How would he react when I told him who my family was? Would he be starstruck? Would he ask to meet them? Ask for an autograph? Would he immediately call the tabloids to tell the world he’d tattooed Evie James? “Um, Smith James.” Let’s see what you’re made of, Nick the handsome tattoo artist.
“Oh okay, yeah, I’ve met those guys a couple times.” He let out that sexy little laugh again. OMG. Did I call his chuckle sexy? “They’re a good time.”
I snorted. “That’s an understatement.” My family was all a good time. My aunts and uncles and cousins, they all had a wild side. In my opinion, my parents were the most strict and unexciting of the whole bunch. But I’d heard stories about my dad’s past that made me cringe. My sister Emmie and I were the calm ones, the boring ones, and that was way the way our parents liked it.
“Well randomly coming in for a large piece like this makes sense then, very rock and roll of you.”
“Oh yeah?” I sighed. “Would you mind telling my new suitemate that?”
“She giving you a hard time?” He paused again, looking up to meet my eyes briefly before going back to my tattoo.
I didn’t normally open up to strangers. In fact, I didn’t normally have conversations with strangers. But we were going to be sitting side by side for the next couple of hours. What else were we supposed to discuss if not my apparent faults? “I overheard her tell someone on the phone that I was a shy, prudish, badly dressed disappointment.” I didn’t need to give him specific details. Words like “virgin” and “elementary school teacher” were unnecessary. “And apparently that assessment is spreading like wildfire.”
He didn’t stop working as he talked. “Well, if you ask me, your ass looked killer in those pants you were wearing. And you aren’t shy. Shy people don’t stroll into a tattoo parlor on a whim. You’re quiet, and I’ll take quiet over obnoxiously loud any day. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been working on you for thirty minutes and you haven’t even flinched. You’re a badass in my book, Evie James.”
“You’re kind.” He was. He had been from the first words out of his mouth. Maybe the universe was trying to even out my life with this small ray of sunshine in an otherwise overwhelmingly shitty day.
“I’m not that kind, ask anyone.” He paused long enough to shoot me another flirty wink. “I just tell it like I see it, dove. It’s a fault.”
Dove. I hid my smile behind the blanket. “I don’t think honesty should ever be considered a fault.” The room got quiet again, the only sound, the gun. It was almost lulling me to sleep. Maybe I really was a deviant? I wasn’t sure how long I lay there with my eyes closed, but they flew open when I heard Nick clear his throat.
“You know what the best thing about moving away is?” He had stopped, the gun on the table and his smiling green eyes on mine.
“What?”
“You get to start over. You can be whoever you want to be.” He sprayed my tattoo down with a cold liquid. “But if you ask me, I wouldn’t change one damn thing about you. You’re gorgeous and tough, and easy to talk to.” He wiped a paper towel over my skin and then held his hand out, helping me into a sitting positon. “And you’re all done.”
I stood, making sure to keep the blanket covering as much of myself as I could. “Really?” Who the hell sleeps through a tattoo? Maybe I needed to see a doctor? I walked over to the floor-length mirror, a huge grin taking over my flushed face. “Wow.”
“You like it?” Nick was behind me, still on his stool.
I met his scrutiny in the glass. “Are you kidding me? I love it.” I turned to the side, viewing it from another angel. “It’s perfect.” It was more than perfect. “Thank you, so much.” I stood in that spot, staring at my new tattoo, absorbing my new appearance.
Nick was right. Moving to Dallas, going to SMU…no one knew me here, not really. I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could reinvent myself. They wanted rock and roll princess? I could give it to them. I could be the fun one. I could be the wild one. I could have friends and fun, and I could flirt. I could do it all. Heck, I could even join that stupid sorority and make Hannah pay for the things she said.
I spun around, suddenly feeling brave and a little bit bold. “Would you let me buy you dinner tonight? As a thank you for the tattoo?”
“No.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, his immediate rejection stinging more than I thought possible. There went my newfound confidence.
“But I’d love to buy you dinner.” He grabbed the back of my thigh, moving me closer to him and making chill bumps break out of my skin. “Because the tattoo was my pleasure.” He winked and then started rubbing some kind of ointment on me.
I swallowed around the sudden lump in my throat. “Okay.” I’d never asked anyone out before. I’d never wanted to. But suddenly I felt like I could do anything. And I felt…turned on.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling this way. I wanted Nick to keep touching me. I wanted his hands to travel up higher.
I wanted him to touch me everywhere.
I wanted to kiss him.
I wanted…him.