Page 67 of Virgin Skin

How I manage to keep a serene smile on my face while grinding my molars so hard I give myself a tension headache, I’ll never know.

It’s not just sex that my brain is stuck on, either. It would be easier to break it off if that were all it was. No, it’s little things that burrow deeper under my skin the more I think about them. Like the weight of his head on my shoulder when he falls asleep while we’re watching TV together, and the way he gets so caught up in his own thoughts that he’ll start talking to me halfway through an idea, so I have to scramble to catch up. Why do I even like that? Why am I smiling just thinking about it?

He’s narrowed down his choices for his first tattoo to ten seemingly random possibilities. To Jag’s delight, the floppy puppy made the cut. Milo printed out his options and taped each one to the top of the counter, so every customer who comes in can vote on which one he should get. It’s ridiculous and so Milo. And, fuck, I want to be the one to cover him in a patchwork of art, each one representing a different part of himself, a different moment in his life he doesn’t want to forget, a snapshot of who he is today before he becomes someone else tomorrow.

I pause to wipe away the blood on my client’s skin and glance over my shoulder at Milo. He’s waving his arms animatedly as he talks to the woman Tex just finished up with. She got a cutesy little ghost on her wrist, and it sounds like he’s now regaling herwith a harrowing albeit way over-the-top ghost story from his time as a gravedigger. My heart thuds and my skin tingles like it’s too tight.

Whoever Milo is tomorrow or next week or next year, I have no doubt I’ll be just as smitten with that version of him as I am with this one. He’s so worried about picking a career and sticking with it, about becoming the kind of adult he thinks he’s supposed to be, but I just want to see him happy. I want to be the stable foundation in his life that allows him to grow and have adventures while knowing he’ll always have somewhere soft to land.

The answer I’ve been searching for all day doesn’t hit me like a ton of bricks, it settles over me like a warm blanket. Hero will understand. He has to. I’ll make him understand.

“Hey, you up for a ride tonight?” Arrow asks as the day starts to wind down. Milo is checking out the last of the walk-ins for the day and I’m sterilizing my station.

“Uh…” I glance at Milo, then at Arrow. He arches an eyebrow at me, waiting. Does he know? He can’t possibly know. Just because Jag clocked it in two seconds flat doesn’t mean everyone else has. “Tonight’s not good, but how about tomorrow night?”

“Sure thing.” He clasps my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know I’ve been busy with Lewis lately, but I miss you. I swear, I’m not going to be shirking club stuff forever.”

Oh, that’s why he was looking at me like that. He hasn’t seen through me and Milo, he’s just feeling guilty that he’s been so wrapped up in his own new relationship. I huff out a relieved laugh and slap him on the back in return.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. I promise none of us feel neglected.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jag sniffs dramatically.

Arrow frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Jag.

“Don’t wind him up. You know how he gets.”

“Hey, wait, how do I get?”

“Protective and people-pleasing,” Hero says.

“There’s a reason we called you Daddy for years,” Tex tags on.

“I thought we all agreed that I’m the only one who gets to call him Daddy now?” Lewis appears unexpectedly from the back room.

Tex may be twice his size, but I swear he jumps about a foot in the air at the implied threat. Brick chuckles as he brushes past to take out the trash from his area, and Jag flashes an approving grin while simultaneously rubbing the spot where Lewis left that bruise on his arm a few weeks ago.

“Seriously, man, don’t worry about it,” Hero assures Arrow. “We all get it. Soon enough, things will settle into a new normal and we’ll be out riding and doing our usual stuff together again.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jag mutters. My skin turns cold, even though I don’t think he’s a big enough dick to just blurt out his suspicions to Hero. Jag is a shit-stirrer, but he’s not an asshole.

“Why’s that?” Tex asks.

“I just don’t think Arrow’s the last one who’s going to end up dicknotized around here. It’s like a plague or something, haven’t you noticed? It happened at Four Bears Construction, it happened at Big Bull Mechanics… One person goes and gets all starry eyed and everyone else drops like flies after that.”

Lewis scoffs. “Excuse you, he’s not dicknotized, we’re in love.”

Jag rolls his eyes. “Same difference.”

“Well I doubt you have much to worry about, man,” Hero says. “We’re a bunch of lone wolves.”

“Do lone wolves usually wear matching jackets?” Milo asks.

Tex snorts a laugh. “Well, if Cupid’s hanging around with his arrow, I’ll volunteer.”

“Cupid can eat shit if he thinks he’s getting anywhere near me,” Brick says with more venom than I’m used to hearing from our quiet, reclusive piercer.

“Hell yeah, solidarity,” Jag says, holding his hand up for a high five. Brick just stares at it for a second, then turns to leave.

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