Page 42 of Yours Truly

We choose a booth at the diner—I mean, I guess we do.

I don’t know.

My mind is spinning, and all I can see is his thumb on her chin and her hands on his belt, the clatter of buckle on button making nausea sear my tongue.

“You know, he just did that to piss me off,” I say, shaking my head as I stab a straw into the glass of ice water Lucy brought us. I didn’t even hear her if she said hello.

This is so not fair to Jeremy.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh, finally giving him the attention he deserves. “It’s?—”

“Complicated?” he offers, his chestnut eyes soft as he sinks back into the vinyl, draping one arm over the booth.

“I guess,” I reply, just now realizing that Trace and I are actually very complicated. “I can’t stand him most of the time. And tonight, you know, he invited those girls to the studio just because you asked me out.”

Jeremy’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s then I realize that maybe he hoped this was something more than friends catching up. “He was trying to make you jealous?” he asks, then nods. “Yeah, so, you two have feelings for each other, then?”

I lick my lips. “Nothing confirmed.”

Jeremy leans forward, collecting the menu in his hands as he smiles softly at me. “The last person I got pissed at as much as you’re pissed at Trace?” He glances down, his eyes moving along the printed options as he says, “I actually liked her a lot.” He looks up at me. “Loved her, even. We dated for three years.”

I chew the inside of my cheek a moment, processing his insinuation. He isn’t wrong. If Trace can stop acting like a total clown, we could have something. A future. And that’s what I want.

“You’re right,” I finally smile. “I like him.” I don’t add the ‘a lot’ at the risk of sounding twelve. “That's why he gets under my skin. Like, really gets under there like a… hot parasite or something. Because…” I sigh, glancing through the large window, across the street, to an ill-lit Ink Time. “I really fucking like him.”

Jeremy sips his water. “Tell me about it.”

Lucy takes our orders, and I talk to Jeremy. He listens, then he listens as we eat, and I never stop talking. And all that talking about Trace has me… worked up.

Emotionally charged, yes.

But, like…. Worked up.

I pay the tab when Lucy brings it, and Jeremy and I part ways outside of Goode’s. Standing in the street, I stare at the gold ornate framing on the door of the tattoo shop, the place that has become my everything in the last few months. Nerves coil in my belly.

There’s movement inside, but I can’t make out what kind. Worried that Trace will get drunk and do something stupid—like leave the shop unlocked—I cross the street and walk inside.

What I see is… “What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss, my nostrils flaring as the door slams shut behind me, bumping my ass, sending me a pace forward. The blonde behind the reception counter jolts forward, lifting her hands from the register. The girl next to her, whose hair is black like mine, I recognize from being the girl who likely sucked Trace.

Realizing they were about to fucking rob Ink Time, I bend down and grab my knife from my boot. Thank God I didn't change into slippers tonight—I don’t carry my knife in my slippers because that doesn’t make sense.

“Where are the others?” I question, a thrill rushing through my cheeks as they both stand taller, holding their hands up. I push the knife at them through the air. “Where are they?”

The blonde looks at the blade then up at me. “In the… little tattoo bed thingy,” she says, her eyes going back to the blade.

I glance over, finding Trace completely fucking naked but for his jeans bunched up around one ankle, his shirt on the floor, socks and boots, too. I look back at the thieves. “Is he okay?”

The girl with the dark hair nods. “He passed out.”

I hate that the words that come to me first are these, but I say them before I get a chance to think. “He’s a heavy drinker, it’s only been two hours. How has he passed out already?”

Then I see it. On the floor, next to his shirt and boots.

An empty whiskey bottle.

My eyes widen as I prod toward them, my knife the only thing keeping them quiet. “He drank the whole thing?”

Just then, the other two girls come stumbling from the bathroom down the hall, laughing as they both comment on how quiet it suddenly is.

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