Chapter 7
Rayne
“I’m going to run this down to Vaughn,” I tell Polly, holding up a bag with a sandwich in it.
“You sure? Last time we tried that, he threw it in the garbage.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Be right back.”
I’m lying to myself if I say I have a clue about what I’m doing. Yesterday, I thought for sure he was going to tell me that no way in hell he would tattoo me, but when he agreed, I jumped at the chance. Before I open the door, I take in some air then slowly let it out.
This is my way of moving on or at least taking the steps. Having my skin permanently marked by another man isn’t just about the tattoo. It’s about the guy I’m trusting to do it. About the promise to myself to make it up to him for being so unsure, when I know deep down I’m more sure about him than I have been about anything else in my life.
I step inside and am met with silence. “Vaughn,” I holler. Still getting no answer, I walk to the back and peek around only to come up short. Figuring maybe he ran an errand or something, I go back up front and sit at the desk to write him a note. Just as I’m putting pen to paper, the door whips open.
“Hey.” A man with large gauges in his ears and tattoos up to his chin walks in and shuts the door behind him.
“Hi.” I nervously look behind me, hoping to see Vaughn, but he’s still nowhere to be found.
“Vaughn around?”
“Umm, I don’t know where he is, actually.”
He looks at his watch and plops down on the couch. “I’ll just wait.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Yeah. He’s finishing my chest piece. Hopefully, this will be the last session.”
I come around the desk and lean on the counter. “How many times have you had to come?”
“Five. This will be the sixth.”
“Holy shit!”
He laughs. “Yeah, but I had to wait five months to get in with him for a piece this big, so I don’t really care how long it takes.”
“Almost half a year?” That other man said he was good, too, but I had no idea his waitlist was that long.
“Yup. As soon as word spread that he was back, he booked up immediately.”
“What are you having done?”
He stands and pulls his shirt over his chest, and I step closer to him. “It’s a little bit of everything.”
“I see that.” Tribal designs, a small portrait, a name, a skull . . . so much, but it doesn’t look clustered or sloppy or anything. Somehow, everything flows beautifully. I’m compelled to touch the pinup girl because she looks so real. “It’s amazing.”
“What’s up, Rayne?”
Vaughn’s voice scares the crap out of me, and I whip my head up so fast I hit this guy in his nose. He curses and covers his face as blood trickles down to his chin.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” I turn to Vaughn. “Do you have any paper towels?”
He just . . . stands there looking pissed off. I’ve never seen him look this angry. His arms are crossed, and his jaw is clenching. He finally goes to grab some paper towels.
“Sit, sit.” I grab the guy’s arm and pull him to the couch. “Tilt your head up.”
“It’s okay.”
“Tilt your head up. It’s supposed to help the bleeding.”
He laughs. “It actually doesn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“My dad is a doctor, and I’m a skateboarder.” He leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, holding his shirt against it. “I’ve broken my nose more than once.”
“I broke it?” I shriek.
“Not quite.”
“I’m so sorry . . .”
“Chip,” he answers.
“I’m sorry, Chip.”
“Here ya go, man.” Vaughn tosses a roll of paper towels at Chip, and I have to reach out and grab it since he’s trying to stop the bleeding.
Chip takes it from me and rips off a few pieces.
“Why don’t you go clean up then I’ll meet you back there?” Vaughn asks, but the demanding tone doesn’t leave him a choice.
Chip gets up, and I follow. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Chip tries to smile but between his bloody shirt and the paper towel, he ends up looking like a freak, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes.
Vaughn and I both watch him walk around the corner then he turns back to me. “Why are you here?”
I shrink into myself a little at his angry tone. “Is everything okay? You look really upset.”
“Why are you here?”
“I brought you lunch.” Such a lie.
He shakes his head and then crowds me into the countertop. I try not to melt into a puddle from him being this close. “What did I say yesterday, darlin’?” He’s so close but not touching me. His arms cage me in, and his t-shirt barely brushes against me when he inhales. “Didn’t I tell you that I couldn’t be around you and not want more? Hmm?”
My pulse throbs so hard I can feel it in my neck. “Yes.”
“So again, why are you here?”
I tilt my head back so I can look into his eyes. So I can see him. “I don’t know.”
He scoots closer, so his hard body is against my trembling one. “What do you want?” His lips are practically begging me to kiss them, and his eyes are reflecting the same damn thing I’m feeling. Lust. Confusion. Pain.
What the hell is wrong with me? How can I stand here and pretend that I only wanted to bring him a sandwich? I wanted to see him. I wanted to talk to him. And shamefully, I wanted him to touch me.
My head falls forward and lands on his chest. He sees right through me. He knows I want what I can’t have. He damn well knows I want him. We stand like this for a minute before he kisses the top of my head and backs up. “Go back to work, Rayne.”
I listen to him walk away and finally raise my head and leave, completely and utterly defeated. Work goes by painfully slow. Polly asks me if I’m okay twelve times. Scrubbing the floor takes out some of my frustration after all the customers have left. Some of my hair falls out of my ponytail and sweat drips down my back.
A familiar knock sounds on the door, and I reluctantly get up to answer it. Vaughn stands there with an expectant look on his face. I unlock the deadbolt and walk back to my scrub brush without opening the door.
As I’m dipping my hand into the bucket again, his boots come into view.
“I’m cleaning the floor.”
“I see that.”
“You can leave. I’ll be here for a while.”
“Call me when you’re walking out.”
As soon as I hear the door close, I get up to lock it then sit down on a chair and call him. I don’t even hear his voicemail message, but the beep is loud in my ear.
“Hey. We really need to talk, Bryan. I, um . . . Shit. I don’t know how to say this, but I think I’m falling for someone else. And I don’t know what to do.” Tears roll down my cheeks, and I wipe my nose with my sweatshirt. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, Bryan. You need to tell me. I need you to tell me what to do!” I hold the phone away from me while I take a few deep breaths. “Please,” I beg into the phone. “Please tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
I hang up, wipe my nose with my sweatshirt, and decide I’m done scrubbing floors for the day. Without cleaning up any of my mess, I grab my purse, shut off the lights, and then get the hell out of this place. When I start to drive away, I make a last-second decision not to go home, so at the intersection where I normally turn right, I turn left. Parking across the street, I use my key to let myself into Kenny and Brad’s place but be sure to announce myself. I’ve walked in on a few things I wish I could unsee.
“Kennedy?” I close and lock the door behind me.
“In the kitchen!”
I turn the corner, and the moment he sees me, he sets the spatula down and opens his arms. I willingly fall into them and let him do what he does best.
“What can I do to help you?” He rubs my back and runs his fingers through my hair. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“I don’t know.” I pull back and dry my eyes with the napkin he handed me. “I don’t know what to do.”
He pats my arm and then grabs two shot glasses. I smile and open the freezer to take out the bottle of mint schnapps then the chocolate syrup from the fridge. After he pours, he hands me my glass, and I hand him the chocolate syrup. After the deliciously cool and tasty liquid slides down my throat, I open my mouth, and he squirts some syrup into it. “So good,” I mumble, wiping the corner of my lips.
He hands me the bottle, and I do the same to him. I can’t remember where we began taking these shots, but it tastes like a cookie. A delicious, chocolatey treat. I’m not a big drinker, normally, but tonight, it tastes better than it probably should.
“Let me finish this chicken. Did you eat dinner?” he asks.
“No. I’ll go find a movie. Is Brad working at the bar all night?”
“Yup, he’s been having some issues with Complexity. Lots of undesirable people filtering in, so he’s spending a lot more time there lately. It’ll just be us.”
“Really?” I missed going to dance last Friday, but from what I can remember of the last time, it was the same type of crowd.
“Yeah. I guess word is spreading through the college that single girls go to have a good time, so a bunch of douchebags are coming in and hitting on the girls. Meanwhile, the gay men are getting pissed because they feel like the straight guys are trying to take over the place. It’s a mess.”
“Damn, that really sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. But he’s dealing.” He points at the living room. “Go find a movie; I’ll be right there.”
I grab our shot glasses and the schnapps and syrup then make myself comfy on his couch. I find a funny movie and cue it up then wait for him to join me. He comes in carrying two plates. “Hope you’re hungry.”
“Not really but I know I need to eat.” I take my plate and press play for the movie.
Since we’ve both seen it about five times, he starts talking right away. “What happened?”
No need to sugarcoat anything. “I went to bring him a sandwich, and he called me on it.”
“On what?”
I hold up a finger as I swallow. “That I wasn’t really there to bring him lunch.”
“What were you there for?”
“That’s where my answers end, Kennedy. I don’t know. I just know I wanted to see him. How is that possible? I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with the guy. Although, I did tell Bryan I thought I was falling for someone else.” I try to process my thoughts and feelings out loud.
“You just answered your own question, Rainey girl.”
“What do you mean?” I scoop a pile of mashed potatoes in my mouth.
“You’re totally in love with him.”
“Who, Bryan? Of course, I am.”
“No.” He puts a hand on my knee. “Vaughn.”
I set my fork down and lean back on the couch. “I hardly know him.”
“So what? I fell in love with Brad without even talking to him. The second he came into The Lunch Box and sat at the table next to me, I knew instantly. Not every love story has to have a huge beginning. Some of them can be love at first sight; it’s totally a thing.”
He squeezes my leg then pours us each another shot. I take our dirty dishes to the kitchen, and we finish watching the movie. But not until after we’ve had three more shots and a popcorn fight.
“It was bleeding so bad, Kenny.” I snort laugh. “And it’s not funny. But it was.”
He laughs right along with me and wipes his eyes. “Like . . . like the bend and snap.”
“Yes!” I scream.
Kenny falls off the couch and hits his elbow. “Shit. Oh, my word.” He rocks back and forth holding it, and I laugh even harder.
“Are you . . . are you okay?”
“No, owww. Why do they call it the funny bone? It shou—” He burps and giggles. “It should be called the hurt bone or . . . ha-ha. Boner.”
My jaw hurts from laughing so hard, and I lean down to help pull Kennedy to his feet but end up losing my grip and fall on top of him. We’re one big pile of mess when a frantic Brad calls Kenny’s name.
We both look up, meeting the angry eyes of Brad . . . and Vaughn. Oops, I forgot to call him when I left the restaurant. They stare at us, and I try not to laugh but fail miserably. I point at Kennedy. “He said boner.”
I collapse on top of him and erupt into a pile of giggles. Without warning, I’m being picked up and I grab onto whoever it is. When my fingers wrap around Vaughn’s leather jacket, I whip my head to his very unamused face. The movement makes my brain spin, resulting in vomit spewing out of my mouth before I have a chance to warn him.