Page 17 of Tony

“Yeah. And I think you are. But there are probably a hundred women in this town who would take exception to my opinion of you.”

He huffs some air and blows the hair up that’s covering his eyes, then looks straight ahead as we continue east, away from town.

I turn in my seat and study him for a moment.

Vann Vaughn is fucking hot. I’m not going to tell him that, but I’m not going to lie to myself, either. He’s one of those people you just want to look at. His jaw is square, his eyes are blue, his hair is blond, his body is well-muscled, but still on the lean side. And he smiles a lot. These smiles are wide, and honest, and reveal dimples.

He has a friendly face, even though both his arms are well on their way to being full sleeves. His theme—all these Sick Boyz have a tat theme going—his theme is words. Paragraphs and paragraphs of words. Poems and passages from old books. Song lyrics and gravestone epitaphs. Vann Vaughn is in love with letters. Some of them are big and bold, like the giant double X’s on each of his shoulders. And some of them are small and delicate like the list of his nieces’ names down his left ribcage.

His blond, all-American looks and his ink are the definition of a contradiction.

Which just makes him… interesting. And, let’s face it, sexy.

“Vann?”

“Hmm?” He continues looking straight ahead.

“You might be my best friend.” He glances over at me, then back at the road. “I mean that. Tara’s gone and you’re all I have left. Please, please, please—I’m begging you. Don’t ruin this.”

“Don’t ruin what, Belinda?”

“Us.”

“I think you just made it perfectly clear that there’s no us.”

“Are you deaf?”

“I hear you.” He sighs. “It’s just… I like you, Belinda. A lot. I think we would be good together and you won’t even give me a chance.”

No. He’s right. I’m not going to give him a chance. Ever. And now that I have articulated that in my head there is only one thing left to say and he needs to hear it.

I really don’t want to say it.

But I have to.

“Like I said, Vann, you’re sexy. And smart. And talented. And sweet. And charming. And basically all the things. But I’m looking for an obsession. I’m looking for an addiction. It might be sick and it might be ridiculous. But I don’t care. I only get one life and I want all the feels before it’s over. You’re not that obsession, Vann. You’re not that addiction. So if the only reason you’re nice to me is so you can hang on to the idea that one day we might be a thing, then…” I throw up my hands. “Pull over and let me out here.”

He pulls over.

And I get out.

CHAPTER FIVE - TONY

Anna Ameci’s seems to be the go-to restaurant for dinner in this small section of old Fort Collins. But that’s not why I decide to go inside and eat. I go inside and eat because I can see Sick Boyz tattoo shop if I get a table by the front window.

It’s not quite dark, and the tattoo shop has their windows blacked out with some kind of translucent paint. So the shadow behind the counter who I know is Belinda isn’t clearly outlined. But I fixate on that dark, grayish smudge behind the glass anyway.

She came in late today. Got dropped off by an Uber. Not sure why that happened, but I know it has something to do with Vann Vaughn. He didn’t come in late. He was actually early.

This part of downtown is old-school. There’s a strip of parking that runs down the middle of the street between the north and southbound lanes of College Avenue. So right now I’m looking at Vann Vaughn’s giant black truck in one of those parking spots.

It’s interesting that they left the coffee shop together but didn’t show up to work at the same time.

“Did you make a decision yet?”

I look up to find a pretty waitress smiling down at me. She’s sexy in a very traditional way. Hips, tits, ass. And dark red hair tied back in a ponytail that sets off her blazing green eyes.

“I think I’ll just have a drink.”