Page 53 of Puppy Love

The familiar sting of the needle glides across my skin, the hum of the tattoo gun following its path. Stacy, my regular tattoo artist, chuckles, and I open my right eye just slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse.

“Keep them closed!” Cam snaps from the corner.

I groan.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Cam doesn’t respond, and I can only imagine she’s rolling her eyes at me. She does that a lot.

“How long have you two been together?” Stacy asks, wiping a dry paper towel against the raw skin. It stings, even more than the actual needle, but I don’t wince.

Cam snorts, which I find kind of rude, even if I have the same internal reaction.

“We’re not,” I answer.

“Oh! Really? I just assumed because—”

“Definitely not,” Cam interrupts. Stacy continues the tattoo, and from the intensity of the burn, I think she’s adding the final highlights.

“Okay,” she says, not sounding convinced. I can see why. Not many people would let someone pick out a tattoo willy-nilly. But in my defense, I didn’t think it was actually going to happen. I didn’t think Cam would actually win.

A relieving cold, wet towel glides across my skin.

“You’re all done!” Stacy announces. My eyes shoot open, my gaze falling immediately down to the tattoo.

I analyze it, tilting my head in focus, and after a moment, I realize exactly what it is. A maniacal laugh erupts from me, and I slap the armrest, my feet kicking in the air. I knew Cam could be petty, but I didn’t know she had such a sense of humor.

“So I’m guessing this means something to you?” Stacy asks, quirking an eyebrow. My eyes land on the greyscale hammerhead shark, permanently inked into my skin. Memories from that night at Monsey’s flood into my brain. The spilled margarita. That shiny stained emerald dress. Those fluffy hammerhead shark slippers. I laugh all over again.

“It—no,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, yes, but—”

I look up at Cam. She’s trying but failing to hide a proud smirk.

“Not really,” she says, looking over at Stacy. “It just means that, when I place a bet, I always come out winning.”

“You missed the turn!” Cam whines, pointing aggressively at the side street I completely intentionally drove past. My eyes stay locked onto the road in front of me, one hand gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. She insisted we drive together so that I “couldn’t change my mind.” Sure, I might be too nice to leave her stranded at a tattoo shop she’s never been to. But now, she’s going to wish she had taken the risk.

“Violet!” I glance at her, then back to the road. “Violet Wolfe, take me home now!”

For someone who is so unsure about things, Cam is pretty damn demanding. The corner of my mouth tugs into a smirk.

“I can’t,” I say innocently, pressing my foot down on the brake. We stop at the intersection, the Jeep rolling back slightly as we do. I turn to look at her, her beautiful glaring eyes locking onto mine. “The tattoo was only half of the promise.”

Cam’s eyes widen, pink rushing to her cheeks. She drags a hand down the side of her face, still staring at me. Her mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out, so she closes it again.

Cam might have won that bet, but I think I just won this conversation.

She keeps staring at me, jaw slack and face red. A loud honk pierces the silence, and my eyes dart back to the road, my foot to the gas pedal.

Thank God it’s Thursday.

9I waste no time once we walk through my front door. It’s a good thing I had to get the tattoo because I left Reese at work so he could play. I tug Cam’s shirt over her head, my lips crashing into hers the second her mouth pokes out from beneath the hem. I toss it. To where, I couldn’t tell you. One hand strategically unclasps the back of her bra, as the other travels downward, grabbing her ass so hard it makes her squeal.

“Damn, Violet, buy a girl a drink first!” She jumps back. I grab her ass even harder this time, pulling her into me.

“I did,” I say through gritted teeth. I pride myself on my ability to stay composed. To stay positive. To stay kind. But damn, does Cameron Miller make it fucking difficult. “And I just spent three-hundred dollars on a fucking tribute to you, so shut up and let me work.”

I press our lips together again and suck her lower one between my teeth. Her hands press against my chest, but not in the way I want them to. She pushes me away.

---