I loved the idea.
In theory.
However, I wasn’t a fan of having this many people jammed into the room—especially since half of them were crowded around the tattoo chairs. One stumble, one slip, and someone was going to have a “happy accident” as a tattoo.
The only person panicking about the impromptu party seemed to be me, though.
Ren’s delighted laughter rose above the noise. He was smiling from ear to ear and clearly in his element, his horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose as he was bent over tattooing yet another person.
Someone was passing around a bottle of rum, which I guess we were ignoring.
Wylie and Flint were also happy, bullshitting with people as they worked. My cheeks flushed and I felt a little lightheaded as I glanced at my sketchbook and charcoal pencils on a shelf under the counter. I was in the seat KC held down when he was visiting or helping out.
Thank fuck, I got to use the counter as a barricade.
I didn’t hate people, but this was too much. When the room had started to fill up, I couldn’t even concentrate enough to work on paper, let alone skin like the guys were doing.
The Monday before Halloween was turning out to be weird, and Ren had told me that the week building up to the big day was always insane. They were planning to stay open on Halloween until midnight, too, to catch walk-ins.
Life in general had been strange. Almost two weeks had passed since KC had his first session with his psychologist, but nothing had really changed with him yet. He was being rigid about what he ate, which shouldn’t be a huge deal, but it was making it hard for us to have meals together.
I hadn’t noticed how often people who lived together ate together. Turned out, it was a ton. Several times a day. Every day. And when one person had a problem with food, it tended to become everyone’s issue.
I was trying not to be irritated about it. How would that help?
And, oh yeah, we’d all beenliving together.
KC hadn’t gone home—he was probably avoiding Quain.Ihadn’t been home. And Ren lived in his apartment, so he didn’t have anywhere else to be.
I wanted to hang out with my guys anyway, no matter what, but avoiding my house and parents guaranteed that was happening twenty-four seven. Unfortunately, living together wasn’t exactly the full-time nightly orgy I’d been imagining when we’d first gotten together and everything was frantic.
Which was fine.
Really.
Yesterday, Ren had practice, so at the end of the day, we just went to sleep because he was completely exhausted. KC had a long practice late this afternoon. The team had lost their most recent game, so the coach had promised to run each and every one of them into the ground.
Guaranteed, it would be another early night.
No sex.
I squirmed as anxiety twisted through my gut.
I had two amazing jock boyfriends, and somehow, I was the one who would lie awake with a hard-on while they sawed logs.
This was adding to the other frustrations in my life, as silly as that might sound. Getting wrecked by my guys went a long way toward relaxing me. If they managed to push me to the point where I cracked, I would be up and down for a few days, but I ultimately felt better after my mood evened out again.
Plus, now that I was having sex, I wanted itall the time.
That was about what I’d expected on that front. No surprise there.
A round of clapping and shouting went up around the room, startling me out of the muddy thoughts in my brain. Everyone who had been in the tattoo chairs were getting clear bandages secured over their brand-new tattoos. Ren stood up with a grin and rolled his shoulders. He looked edible in a black tank top and low-riding black jeans that showed off a strip of his abs.
“I have to thank you all for choosing Revenge Tattoo,” Ren called above the celebration. He pointed over at the bloody redletters that spelled out the name on the matte black brick wall, then nodded at me. I shot over to his side, dodging people, to help him out by using the disinfectant spray on his chair.
A guy about my height with brilliant white-blond curls and vivid blue eyes—so blue I was half convinced they were contacts—came over to Ren with a big smile. He was wearing an orange T-shirt with New Gothenburg Horror Appreciation Society curved over a pumpkin patch, and he handed off matching shirts to Ren, Flint, and Wylie.
“As president of our horror society, I would like to make you honorary members.” His smile grew so wide dimples popped on his cheeks. I didn’t enjoy the way Ren grinned back, but maybe that was the blue balls talking.