DOMINIK

“Better Than Drugs”—Skillet

“This is weird,”I mumble, lying on my back on the black leather table.

“It’s not,” Essa replies, crossing her scarred, tattooed arms across her chest. I shoot her a look and she returns it with a smile, ignoring my unease.

“You sure this is what you want?” the tattoo artist that Essa brought me to asks, and I lift my head to look him in the eyes. His blonde hair brushes his brows—one of them with a bar through it—in wispy waves. He’s got a lot of other piercings in his nose and lip, and I find my face heating slightly at his intense gaze, magnified by the eyeliner lining his eyes.

It’s another thing I’ve come to learn about myself over these last few months. Apparently, I find men attractive—the fact solidified in this moment with Jaxon’s piercing blue eyes peering into mine. But it’s not the same as with…

“Yep,” I answer him and nod.

“This is a big piece for your first,” he tells me, his brows pinching together. “Let me know if you need a break at any point.”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

“He’s an addict, he’ll probably love the pain.” My eyes bulge at Essa’s unexpected crass words, and she stills, her mouth falling open.

“Um, shit, Dom. I’m sorry; that sounded—”

“It’s fine,” I laugh, a real fucking laugh. My chest shakes with the intensity, and my face begins to ache from smiling so big. Essa joins in, grabbing my hand between hers and holding on as we laugh together.

“Yeah. He was right—this is weird,” Jaxon mumbles as he grabs the tattoo gun and rolls his chair closer to me. Aftershocks of our laughing fit still roll through me, and he presses down on my bare torso. “Lie still so I don’t fuck this up.”

“Yes, sir,” I say through another laughing fit. Essa hollers behind me, folding in on herself and wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Don’t say that to me. You’re too pretty.” Jaxon shakes his head with a laugh, and I still, my body tensing at the word he used.

Pretty.

Essa must sense my distress because she walks around the other way and grabs my hand again. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just… takes some getting used to.”

“You’ll be okay,” she tells me, squeezing her cold fingers around mine, and I give her a weak smile. The buzzing of the machine starts up, and then Jaxon begins, the needles hammering into my flesh. I grit my teeth at the unexpected sensation—though I didn’t really know what to expect.

“You good?”

“Yep.”

“I told you it was a big one, over lots of really shitty places, so just hang in there. Baby girl, put on a show or some shit for him.” He jerks his head in the direction of the T.V. mounted on the wall, and Essa bounds over to the counter and grabs the remote to turn on Netflix.

A year ago, hearing that name come from someone else would have rocked my world, but now, it has no meaning for me—or at least, not like it used to. A love has never felt so platonic in my life, and I’m happy with that.

“What do you wanna watch?” she asks, flipping through the guide.

“Whatever is good,” I tell her, not really watching the T.V. My eyes take in the room. It’s a big open space with a dark wood interior, low hanging beams, and black painted walls with dark orange designs painted on top.

A large, orange decal covers the front window with the name of the shop—Vice Tattoo.

Portland is a huge city, which is a drastic change from living in a small town all my life, but I kind of like it. The possibilities, the freedom, the fact no one knows who the fuck you are. Your life, your backstory—none of it.

“Vampire Diaries,” Essa tells me, walking backward to take a seat next to me.

I roll my eyes but smile, not in the least bit surprised. Her eyes are glued to the screen as some hot dude in a badass car comes on, and my gaze darts to the window—to my own Mustang parked on the street.

I was terrified of what I would find when I opened the door, but it was surprisingly clean. Every inch of it had been scrubbed. Essa and Vincent had brought it here for me after I was placed in rehab and kept it at their place. I asked her who cleaned it, and she just shook her head.