Page 54 of Virgin Skin

“Give me just a second, man. Stretch your legs or use the bathroom if you need to, I’ll be right back.”

I pull off my gloves and roll my chair back a few inches, then stand up. I can feel half a dozen sets of eyes on me as I slip into the back room. The music gets louder again, and conversation picks back up, all of it a dull buzz as I push through the door into the alley, letting the frigid air shock the panic out of my system.

I let the door bang closed behind me, and I lean against the building, folding my arms to try to keep some of my body heat in. I take a few deep breaths, the inside of my nose turning to ice.

The door creaks and I glance over, not sure if I’m expecting Jag to saunter out and keep up with his bullshit or for Hero to storm out and ask why the hell I’m acting so fucking weird. My heart stutters when it’s Milo who steps out instead. He drags his fingers through his messy hair and holds my jacket out to mewith a smile twisting on his lips, not quite enough to make his dimple show.

“Seriously, dude, you have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen.”

I huff a laugh and take my jacket from him, but I don’t bother putting it on. He mirrors my stance, wrapping his arms around himself. The movement makes his shirt ride up half an inch and my eyes catch on the waistband of his underwear peeking out over the edge of his jeans. I recognize the rainbow logo immediately. Heat floods my veins, and I choke on a groan.

“Are you wearing my underwear?”

Milo bites his lip and shrugs.

I lean my head back against the cold brick wall and try the breathing thing again, but it does fuck all to calm my galloping pulse. What the fuck have I done? I’ve had plenty of practice lying or bending the truth to hide things I don’t want strangers to know, but when it comes to my friends, to my fuckingfamily? Milo’s right, I can’t bluff to save my life. But what are my options? I can’t just tell Hero what happened. He’ll fucking kill me.

Milo stands right in front of me in silent solidarity, trying to hide his shivering. I know he’s dying to grill me about what happens next, like I’m supposed to have some clue.

“Come on, you won’t be able to tattoo if your fingers all freeze off.” He nudges me and then reaches over to pull the door open.

I breathe out slowly, the fog hanging in the air in front of me for a minute before it dissipates. I really wish the snow would melt so I could jump on my bike and just ride until I manage to sort this mess out in my head. Since that’s not an option, and since I do have a client waiting for me with his tattoo half-finished, I follow Milo back inside and hang my coat up on the hook by the door.

Everyone falls quiet, and even Jag has enough shame to shoot me a guilty half-smile as I stride back over to my chair and pull on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Sorry about that,” I say again, and Blake just nods and waves me off, assuring me it’s no big deal.

A deep track Pixies song plays through the overhead speakers, and I sink back into my work, refusing to let myself think about Milo in my underwear or the ass I made of myself storming out over a little light ribbing. The raven tattoo takes well into the early afternoon to finish, and by the time Blake heads up front to check out, the weird tension I caused in the shop this morning seems to be gone.

“Hey.” Tex sidles up while I’m sanitizing my station so it’ll be ready for any afternoon walk-ins. “Sorry for talking out of my ass this morning. Gran used to say that if brains were dynamite, I couldn’t blow my nose.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh and takes off his hat to drag his fingers through his hair before replacing it.

“Don’t worry about it. Jag hit the nerve, not you.”

“Ah.” His lips twitch with a grin. “Considering it’s Jag, I’m guessing that’s exactly what he was aiming for.”

I just snort in agreement. Tex pats my shoulder then goes to greet his next client. If anyone else is worried about my outburst, they must decide it’s better to leave well enough alone, because no one else brings it up after that. Thank fuck, because I don’t know what I’d tell Hero if he asked, and I might give Jag a well-deserved punch in the nose if it came to it.

A few walk-ins manage to keep me occupied for the rest of the afternoon, and one by one, the rest of the guys wrap up their work for the day and head out.

Hero flips the Open sign to Closed and the back door slams, taking Arrow and Tex’s conversation with it.

“You want a ride home?” Hero asks Milo. I hold my breath, half hoping he’ll say yes just to give me a few more minutes alone to gather every ounce of resolve I have.

Hooking up during the snowstorm, that was a unique situation. It’s easy enough to excuse it and pretend like it never happened. But I told myself I was drawing the line and I am. I have to.

“That’s okay. I have to finish scanning these consent forms into the computer still,” Milo says.

“Alright,” Hero says. “I was thinking we could go out for a drink after work later this week. How does that sound?”

My chest squeezes and I try to make myself busy tidying up the last of my stuff. He wants to bond with his son, of course he does. Why does that make me feel so fucking guilty?

“That sounds great.”

“Cool,” Hero says, and I can hear a little bit of tightness in his voice. He’s still trying to figure out how to interact with Milo, still feeling out their relationship little by little. Fuck, their whole thing is enough of an emotional clusterfuck without adding in my crush or whatever this is. This is a reminder for me to stay out of it, to let Milo focus on the reason he came here, and to just figure out how to be his friend and roommate.

“I’m out,” Hero declares, his boots clicking against the tile as he heads for the door. “Have a good night.”

“Night,” I call weakly, giving a quick wave over my shoulder before he disappears.

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