Page 24 of Flash

Not that I care.

Nope, definitely don’t want to know if he has any siblings or if he exclusively listens to nineties grunge as his array of t-shirts suggests. If I know any of that, I’m just starting down the road to heartbreak. I’ve walked it before, and it always ends the same.

This is just sex, and that’s more than enough.

Just to remind myself where we stand, I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap out a text.

LEWIS: Come over tonight?

Arrow’s reply is almost immediate. Just seeing his name flash across my screen makes my heart jump. I rub my hand over my chest, like that’s somehow going to slow my heartbeat or remind the idiotic organ why it shouldn’t be affected by Arrow at all.

ARROW: I thought you’d never ask. See you tonight.

ARROW

Things have been quiet for the last few days. I’m almost afraid to ask Jag if he’s dropped his prank war with our neighbor, just in case he forgot about it and the question is the reminder he needs to launch his next attack.

The majority of my attention at the moment is on the tattoo I’m working on, which is an array of colorful butterflies on my customer’s forearm. I never let anyone walk out of here with half-assed ink, but I’m giving this one special attention because it’s covering up self-harm scars. I haven’t told him yet, but I’m not planning on charging him for it either. I figure that will be a fun surprise once I finish up. I love that moment when someone can’t stop smiling about the new artwork I’ve had the privilege of putting on their body, and when it serves the dual purpose of rewriting a story they don’t want to be reminded of anymore, all the better.

I have just enough attention left over to listen as the guys plan a trip to a little city a few hours away in Iowa in a couple of weeks where there’s supposed to be protests at the opening of a new LGBTQ youth shelter.

“You in, Arrow?” Hero calls over, and I grunt and nod.

“Of course. I’d hate to miss it if the protesters get out of hand.” Ryan, the guy in my chair, laughs and I grin at him. “We can’t resist getting rowdy for a good cause every now and again,” I explain.

“That’s cool. If there had been more guys like you all around when I was in high school, I might not have these.” He nods at the scars I’m nearly finished covering up, solidifying my decision not to charge him.

There’s so much damn hate in this world, and there was a time I almost let it consume me too. Not the way Ryan did, but I was destructive in my own way. Battling the darkness with a little light whenever I get the chance is a much better way to deal with it though, and I’m glad I figured that out before it was too late to turn around and get the hell off the path I was on.

The guys finish finalizing the plans and slowly everything starts wrapping up for the day. I finish Ryan’s ink, take a few pictures, then wrap his arm and give him the care instructions. When I tell him there’s no charge, he cries and hugs me. I awkwardly pat his back and then walk him out once he’s pulled himself together.

“We’re coming by your place tonight,” Piston tells me after I lock the door behind my client, since he was the last one for today.

I grimace, feeling the weight of my phone in my pocket, my body already keyed up and buzzing for my ‘date’ with Lewis.

“Oh, come on,” Hero complains, seeing my face.

“I already made plans.” I try to ignore the guilt twisting in my gut. I’ve been neglecting them a bit the past couple of weeks, with Lewis occupying so much of my thoughts. “Why don’t you guys come by tomorrow. I’ll pick up stuff to grill and we can take a ride after.”

“This casual friend of yours must have a golden bussy,” Jag says.

I narrow my eyes, a little growl rumbling in my throat. “Watch it.”

He chuckles and holds his hands up. Tex steps up next to Jag and puts a hand on his shoulder, then tips his hat at me.

“We’ll be there tomorrow. But we expect some damn good food as an apology for forgetting about us lately.”

“Deal,” I agree with a chuckle.

They all file out, leaving me all alone. I start to clean up the little cups of ink and all the stray supplies littering my work area, my mind wandering to Lewis over and over again until the shop is finally in order and I’m practically sprinting out the back door to hop on my bike.

When I get to Lewis’s this time, his car is already in the parking lot. I buzz his apartment, and after a minute, the intercom crackles.

“Hello?”

“Hey, gorgeous,” I purr.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” The teasing in Lewis’s voice has a chuckle rumbling through my throat. I hold down the button again to answer.

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