Ari looked over her shoulder at Nick. “Are you still being competitive? Because I think you have him beat out in the job department. No way a court-appointed attorney makes as much as someone with a massive law firm.”
“Nah, it’s just a big deal case and I’m not allowed to talk about it. He’ll ask too many questions.” Oliver ran a hand through his curly hair.
“Well, I’m proud of you. And good luck.” She gave him a fast hug. “We’ll keep it quiet out here so we don’t disturb you.”
“Out here or in there?” He nodded to her bedroom.
“Gross.”
“I’m just asking, because last time it was hard not to notice. Anyway, I like to know if there’s any chance of walking into a half-naked guy at 3:00 a.m.”
“Shhh!” The last thing Nick needed to hear was about how loud he’d been the last time he was there. When, of course, that wasn’t him. “You promised not to mention it and it’s not like I haven’t had that pleasure a million times.”
He frowned. “I’ve never had a half-naked dude over.”
Ari hit him playfully on the arm. “Stop it and go work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When she entered the kitchen, Nick asked, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, just roommate stuff.” She picked up a pot and began scrubbing it in the sink. “Thanks for coming over. Sometimes the job gets to me, you know?”
“I definitely know,” he said, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt his chin on the top of her shoulder, and his lips on her neck.
“That feels nice.” Ari could feel her heart rate increase with every kiss. She wanted more, but Nick was always so gentle with her. So respectful. The fire in her belly craved something intense to drown out the sadness and guilt she’d been feeling.
She turned away from the sink, drying her hands on the back of his shirt. She reached for his face to pull him closer, to bring his lips to hers but he resisted, gathering her into a tight hug instead.
Ari buried her head in his chest trying to squash the feelings of rejection. Because that’s what it was, right? A rejection?
“Now that you’re home safe and Oliver’s here, I’m going to head home,” he said, completely unaware of the turmoil Ari was going through. The frustration and longing she had for him—for something.
“Sure.” She dropped her hands. “Thanks for coming over. It was fun.”
Ari watched as he gathered his keys off the small table by the door and flashed her a quick smile before leaving.
***
The familiar buzz greeted Ari when she walked in the front door. That buzz sent a shiver of anticipation down her neck. Immediately, she turned to the walls, looking at the artwork. This was ridiculous, of course. Ari always got the same thing, maybe a little varied in size or shading , but each one of her tattoos held the same design. A star.
“Hey girl, how are you doing?” Martin said from behind the small barricade, keeping the customers out of his work area, yet allowing them to view his work in process. He glanced up again. “Jesus Christ, what happened to your face?”
“Long story, but trust me when I say I didn’t get the worst of it.”
“That’s hard to believe,” he said. “This have anything to do with your visit?”
“Maybe,” she admitted.
Ari got her first tattoo when she was 18. A star on her ankle, signifying her independence when she moved out of her home. It was also an act of rebellion, against her parent’s strict rules. The hum and sharp, specific pain of the needle proved addictive and she was back again in six months. That time to commemorate another first. Her first. Three weeks after that, she came in with a broken heart and added another star to the collection. The pattern continued for years. The road trip to New York City with her friends in college. Graduation. Her first job. The time she and Oliver made a bet and she lost. Her body became a road map of her memories.
“It’s been a while,” Martin said, coming around the corner. His hair was bleached super white. It had been black the last time she’d been here. Almost every inch of his body was covered in ink, except his face. He’d told her once that he and another apprentice practiced on one another. The early ones were terrible and led to other, more professional cover-ups over the years.
“Thought it was time to make a visit.” She hadn’t been in since her last one, the hardest one so far. Ari had asked him to make the mark extra dark, making the skin raw and bloody under the black ink. She’d just wanted to feel something that night—something other than the pain of her loss. This time, she was running from the rejection she felt from Nick. The only other option was Davis, and that wasn’t an option. She’d ended up at the tattoo parlor instead.
“How you been holding up?” he asked.
“You know me,” Ari said with a shaky laugh. Martin was something like a therapist. Or a bartender. She spilled her secrets while in his chair.