Page 3 of Chic Steel

Fuck.

I haven’t planned anything. Don’t even know how to start the conversation. Do I ask her straight out to date me? Do I need to be casual? Or do I ask for her number? Is that creepy? Will she think I want her number to ask her piercing questions? Is she allowed to date me if she’s my piercer or is there a rule against it like doctors?

“She’ll be out in a second. Head to room three.” The woman blinks at me until I turn numbly and walk down a hallway to the room.

It’s always the same room.

I sit on the edge of the piercing chair and rub my palms along my trousers to remove the dampness.

Shit.

I haven’t figured out what to say. Should have asked Maddy.

What do I say?

2

ELLA

The door cracksagainst the wall and I jump as Immy stumbles through and blurts out, “He’s here.”

I blink at her. Who’s here? She could mean anyone. We’re open seven days and have regulars that pop in depending on their mental state.

“Who?” I ask and shove one of Lily’s brownies in my mouth. She’s stressed about something because she dropped them off without chatting, which is unusual. She’s moving in with Leo this week. Maybe it’s that? I’ll have to check in with her tonight and make sure she’s packed.

“It’shim.” Immy widens her eyes dramatically.

“Him who? We have a million dudes that come in, Imogen.” I sip water.

“El. It’s him. The guy who always asks for you. Silver fox, yummy suits, and always wants you to pierce his, you know…” She trails off and lets silence fill the gap.

I choke on the water and cough, my throat burns, and my eyes water, blurring Immy’s furrowed brow in front of me.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I wheeze. My shaking hand reaches for the glass of water and I sip it carefully. Once I can breathe properly again, Iswipe a finger under my lashes to clear the liquid and ask, “You mean Oliver’s here?”

Immy nods. “He’s asking for you.”

“Put him in room three and tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She shoots me a thumbs up and backs out of the room.

He’s late. Usually he shows up around September, but he’s waited longer. It’s October now, the fresh spring air already turning into oppressive heat and humidity. Maybe his piercing didn’t heal easily and he’s put it off until now so he doesn’t upset the others?

I blow out a shaky breath, trying to steady my hands in preparation, and convince myself not to jump to conclusions. He might not want a new piercing, he might want to check they’re looking fine, or have his jewellery changed. He could have asked the other piercers, but he always asks for me. Always asks me questions and requests me.

Every single time.

If I’m not in the shop, he leaves. Or so the others tell me.

Last year, he came in on one of my admin days and instead of getting his jewellery changed by Immy, he waited until I was back the following week.

I met Oliver the day I opened my store. He lined up and waited with everyone for the special opening prices, and it was the first time he requested me. He wore a sharp suit with a dark green shirt underneath the jacket. Most of the people waiting were young girls wanting their cartilage pierced or people already pierced everywhere, wanting more.

Oliver was out of place, and once I’d noticed him, it was hard to ignore him. His salt and pepper hair stood out in the crowd, and his blue eyes darted around the room before settling on me. It’s silly to think his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw me, but he was definitely more relaxed when he strolled towards me.

After that, I was done for.

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