Page 13 of Complete Me
Carter: Fuckin’ watch it you animals
Finn: It’sokay, I can bounce. I don’t want to know the inner workings of your five brains. Scary shit happens here
Me: Hello!! Wait! Are you free? No one will hang out with me!
Finn was removed from the chat
Me: You all are seriously the worst
Carter: For fuck’s sake
Dallas: You love us
Sawyer: We’re your favorite
Liam: It’s better this way
Me: Middle finger emoji
My phone vibrates with a new chat, and I smile.
Finn: Should I be concerned?
Me: They’re harmless. Like bears. You need to get big and it’ll scare them away. Have they taken you boxing yet?
Finn: No, but Carter said soon
Me: I’ll give you some tips so you can go in there and knock them on their ass
Finn: You sure that’s the best idea? Pissing them off seems like the last thing I should do.
Me: Nah, it’ll make them respect you more. They’re animals, gotta treat them like it.
Finn: What am I getting myself into?
Me: Carter’s worth it, you’ll be fine.
Me: Want to hang?
Finn: I can’t today but I’m free tomorrow? Want to grab some lunch?
Me: Yes! Please!!
Finn: Sounds like a plan
Unsure what to do with the rest of my day, I throw on a hoodie, pull some scrunchie socks over my leggings, and trot down the back stairs that lead to the tattoo shop to see what Reid is up to. He works nearly every day, and usually late into the evening, so I’d bet my meager teacher bank account that he’s there.
While I’ve known Reid for the last almost decade, he’s always been Sawyer’s quiet, brooding best friend. I would have to be completely blind if I didn’t notice how absolutely gorgeous he is, though. My sister-in-law, Ivy, nicknamed him Drogo, and she is spot on. You can’t unsee it. His dark greeneyes are set against even darker eyebrows and long eyelashes that would make even the most confident girl jealous. His deep, chocolate brown hair hangs around his shoulders when it’s left down, and the way his giant, tattooed hand pushes it out of his face sends shivers to all the right places.
I’m only human. Every inch of exposed skin is covered in tattoos, and I’ve always been so curious to get a closer look, but have never had the courage to ask.
Hey, Reid, got a minute so I can ogle your tattoos?Nope. Cringe. That would be weird and extremely invasive. Boundaries, Kinsey, no matter how gorgeous that man is or how intriguing his ink is.
My socked feet pad across the sleek cement flooring, eyes scanning the empty, open room. His tattoo shop is gorgeously curated. He’s the only permanent artist here right now, but has guest artists come from all over the world to tattoo next to him. The walls are decorated as if it were an art gallery instead of a tattoo shop. Ornate frames hang over brick walls that showcase gorgeous hand-drawn artwork on nearly every inch of available space. There’s a small reception area at the front of the store, just on the other side of a gigantic fishbowl interior, which holds several stations. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows make it so anyone in reception can see directly onto the floor to watch people work.
I find Reid sitting in his office, reclined comfortably with a tablet in his hand, a look of concentration and peace over his features. I use the element of my unnoticed visit to watch him for a moment. I don’t know a single thing about drawing or tattoos, but I’m mesmerized watching Reid work. His large, tattooed hand holds the tablet pencil as he delicately flows across the screen. His glasses fall down the bridge of his nose, and I’m so surprised to see that he wears them to begin with that my mouth falls open slightly.
He’s so ruggedly handsome, but there’s an anguish that he can’t completely hide. I’ve always wondered if Reid’s broody persona wasn’t a persona at all, but rather the effects of a tortured soul or broken heart. Where happiness can only be felt so deep because his heart, his soul, the marrow of his bones, were wrapped in something dark that haunts him, and he can’t break free. As if he’s wading through darkness without any light to lead his way. My heart pangs at the thought.
