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No in-between.
Fight it or fuck it.
And both are terrible answers that complicate shit. Like what happens after when he’s done with me and finds the next groupie.
Unless it’s sex with the ba—And I need to stop that right there.
“C’mon, was the kiss that bad?” I huff and scrub my frustration out on the chair like it’s the one that forced me to walk away or ruin this new weird group dynamic thing Aria has brought us into.
Seeing Fin again after so long has been enough of a trigger for that voice in the back of my head that likes to ruin me.
“No,” I growl out and toss the towel into the bucket sitting in the corner of my little makeshift shop. “It was great—that’s the damn problem.”
I ignore the snicker from my best friend andthe list of As Above favs that blast over the speakers in the venue, loud enough to make my ears bleed.
Even if it speaks to my soul.
“I don’t know what you want from me, C.” Aria’s chuckle echoes over the line and has my teeth grinding. “Why don’t you just try hanging around him instead of bolting? See where it goes?”
I snort at Aria’s response.
Her old ways of staying the course, where boring and comfort were her go-to responses for anything difficult, are still peeking through despite sleeping with a rockstar of her own. So it doesn’t surprise me that her answer is to just ‘hangout’. That’s progress for my bestie. It’s really amazing how much she’s flourished in the wake of everything that’s happened to her and I’m so glad I get to witness it while she still gets to keep the pieces of herself.
Not to mention that I find myself asking for heradvice more often now.
I’ve always loved the shit out of her. I just love her more now.
“But I’m baking a junior rock god, sooooo...” A surprised laugh pops past my lips and brings tears to my eyes. “Or just sleep with him for real. Bet he’ll be great in bed.”
“Oh my God.” Clearing my throat when people pass and eyeball my set up through the open canvas like they might be interested, I tip the phone closer to my mouth and whisper-hiss to my bestie. “Would you fuckin’ stop it?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be tattooing people at this point, anyway? Not focusing on Fin?”
Another snorting laugh has me covering my mouth so I don’t look crazy to the people that pass me by and I grip the phone. “You are too much. Find the receipt. I’m taking your ass back to the store.”
Aria’s laugh filters through the receiver and has a smile plastering on my painted lips. “I know you love me. Now stop pretending like you fucking hate the guy and just, y’know …” I see her shrug in my head as if my best friend is right in front of me. “See what happens.”
“But I do hate him,” I groan at my best friend, who has no inkling of all the reasons why sleeping with Fin would not be a great idea.
Reason número uno: Jeremy’s a cunt that can’t be right.
“Uh-huh,” she mutters, “Keep telling yourself that.”
Number two being that Finland Montgomery is besties with my bestie’s future husband and that just makes things weird.
Not to mention, I wasn’t good enough to keep Jeremy on the right side of sanity, so what the hell would I do to a rockstar like Fin?
“Love youuuu.” With an eye roll and pounding walls, I return the sentiment and end the call with my best friend, accepting the first person that inquires about my chair.
I’m set up to do small designs, pieces off of a pre-made page customers get to choose from, which means the tattoos go fast and clean and leave my back in one piece as the As Above set comes to an end.
The roar of the crowd outside makes my molars ache with jealousy because they got to see the band perform and I didn’t, but the steady flow of clients help make up for it.
Several patrons take cards to do larger pieces they talk about as I ink the small designs into their skin in this blistering heat, while others admire the album of my portfolio I have set up at the entrance. Photos that highlight my larger pieces, my line work, the detail, and fine colors. The black and whites.
The ones I’m most proud of.
And with each tattoo I complete, my receptionist takes care of all payments and patching up my work so they can resume the crazy festival antics without worrying about any infections.
