Chapter 2

2

ELLA

The door cracks against the wall and I jump as Immy stumbles through and blurts out, “He’s here.”

I blink at her. Who’s here? She could mean anyone. We’re open seven days and have regulars that pop in depending on their mental state.

“Who?” I ask and shove one of Lily’s brownies in my mouth. She’s stressed about something because she dropped them off without chatting, which is unusual. She’s moving in with Leo this week. Maybe it’s that? I’ll have to check in with her tonight and make sure she’s packed.

“It’s him. ” Immy widens her eyes dramatically.

“Him who? We have a million dudes that come in, Imogen.” I sip water.

“El. It’s him. The guy who always asks for you. Silver fox, yummy suits, and always wants you to pierce his, you know…” She trails off and lets silence fill the gap.

I choke on the water and cough, my throat burns, and my eyes water, blurring Immy’s furrowed brow in front of me.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I wheeze. My shaking hand reaches for the glass of water and I sip it carefully. Once I can breathe properly again, I swipe a finger under my lashes to clear the liquid and ask, “You mean Oliver’s here?”

Immy nods. “He’s asking for you.”

“Put him in room three and tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She shoots me a thumbs up and backs out of the room.

He’s late. Usually he shows up around September, but he’s waited longer. It’s October now, the fresh spring air already turning into oppressive heat and humidity. Maybe his piercing didn’t heal easily and he’s put it off until now so he doesn’t upset the others?

I blow out a shaky breath, trying to steady my hands in preparation, and convince myself not to jump to conclusions. He might not want a new piercing, he might want to check they’re looking fine, or have his jewellery changed. He could have asked the other piercers, but he always asks for me. Always asks me questions and requests me.

Every single time.

If I’m not in the shop, he leaves. Or so the others tell me.

Last year, he came in on one of my admin days and instead of getting his jewellery changed by Immy, he waited until I was back the following week.

I met Oliver the day I opened my store. He lined up and waited with everyone for the special opening prices, and it was the first time he requested me. He wore a sharp suit with a dark green shirt underneath the jacket. Most of the people waiting were young girls wanting their cartilage pierced or people already pierced everywhere, wanting more.

Oliver was out of place, and once I’d noticed him, it was hard to ignore him. His salt and pepper hair stood out in the crowd, and his blue eyes darted around the room before settling on me. It’s silly to think his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw me, but he was definitely more relaxed when he strolled towards me.

After that, I was done for.

He came back a week later, and since then yearly for a piercing and occasionally to get his jewellery changed. Always at the beginning of spring. For the past four years.

Except this year.

This year he’s late.

I put the brownies away and wash my hands, taking steadying breaths. If he wants another piercing, I can’t be shaky. He’ll notice, and it’s never a good thing trying to shove a needle into someone with trembling hands. Besides, what if he asks why I’m shaking? How would I respond?

Don’t worry Oliver, it’s because of you and your cologne and how excited I am to see you and also, why haven’t I seen you in over six months? Not even for a measly jewellery change.

That’d go down well with customer satisfaction.

I adjust the teal headband holding back my cropped hair and march towards room three. God, I hope he wants a jewellery change. I can’t handle piercing his penis again.

To get the right placement for a Jacob’s ladder, you need to be erect.

Which means he comes in every year to add to the ladder, and I have to hold his erect dick while being professional. Not that there’s anything sexy about piercing someone, but it’s Oliver . And I get to touch him and see the way he reacts to my glove-covered hands.

I have to place the markings to see if he likes them, wait for him to soften, which isn’t always quick like it is with other clients, surprisingly, and then double check the placement before I pierce him.

But nothing will ever happen. This is his fifth year coming here, and I doubt he’d want to date the woman who puts metal through his skin.

Time to face the music.

I breathe deeply and open the door to room three. And there he is.

He’s wearing his usual uniform. Business suit with a coloured shirt underneath instead of the traditional white. Today it’s a dark blue and I shiver, imagining we co-ordinated the blue in our outfits.

If Lily could hear my pathetic thoughts, I’d never live it down.

“Hey, Oliver. Back for another?” I ask, heading to the left where we keep the equipment.

“A jewellery change today, please.”

I bite my lip to keep in my sigh. His voice is deep and rough, and he talks softly but commands your attention. I don’t know how he does it, but every time he talks, I want to hear more. Probably has something to do with whatever business he’s in. I’ve never seen him out of a suit. Meanwhile, I’m always in jeans and a tank top, unless it’s winter and I’m forced to wear jumpers. I own a jumper in the exact shade of his eyes and whenever I wear it, I think of him.

“No worries. What are we changing?”

“The nipple.” His blue eyes meet mine, intense and focused. Always holding eye contact, never glancing around like I do. His sole focus on me.

I swallow hard. Good, just a jewellery change and I don’t have to face his delicate areas. “Sweet. What were you thinking? You still have the hoop in?”

“What do you wear?”

I stare at him, and my mouth goes dry. His eyes don’t drift down to my chest like most people’s do, but stay focused on my face. Even if he isn’t currently looking, he clearly knows my nipples are pierced if he’s asking what jewellery I have in them. He probably knows what I wear in them. They’re pressing against my top and you can see the outline of the barbells. Currently, with adorable cherry ends on them.

“Barbells.” I’m incapable of giving more information. My years of customer service better come forward soon to give him the different options we have. I can’t stand and stare at him, wondering why he wants to know what jewellery I have in my nipples and if he’d ever lick them. I shake myself.

“Gold or surgical steel?”

“Titanium. With cherries,” I manage to say.

The left side of his lip curves up. “Maybe not the cherries.”

Is he making a joke? Did he make a joke about my nipple piercings?

“You don’t want something fun?”

“If I did, what would you choose?” he asks, hands crossing over his chest.

I can’t tell if he’s serious, but it wouldn’t be the first time he wanted my opinion on something. Frankly, it’s one of his easier questions. When he first started coming here and asked about genital piercings and the effect on partners…well, those were harder questions than finding fun jewellery.

“You want me to choose a fun barbell?” He nods, and his eyes slip momentarily to my chest before darting back to my eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

I head to the front of the shop with the jewellery and, if I remember correctly, we received some very amusing barbells last week. The question is, am I brave enough to convince him to wear it? Will he take it as a joke or be offended?

“Done already?” Immy asks.

“Nope. Finding jewellery. He wants me to choose something fun.”

She frowns when she sees the section I’m looking at. “Are you sure he means it? He doesn’t seem the type to want something like that.”

I shrug. “I guess we’ll see.” I grasp the barbell with tweezers and put it in a small bag. Hopefully, he does want something fun because I took the brief to heart and want him to laugh, or at least smile when he sees what I picked.

He’s in the same position I left him in when I return. Sitting upright on the chair, shoes touching the concrete floor where mine would swing in the air.

“I found something.” I take it to the side and sanitise everything.

“What is it?”

“A surprise,” I say, finding some non-existent courage to see if I can make him laugh. This could backfire.

“A surprise?” he repeats cautiously. Which makes sense since I usually show him the pieces and we decide together. But today I’m not letting him chicken out from choosing something truly silly.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

A shiver runs through me at his response. Wasn’t expecting him to say yes.

I turn to him. “Then take your shirt off.” His eyebrow raises, and it takes me a moment to realise the implication of what I said. I shake myself and correct it. “I’ll give you a second to take your shirt off and then we’ll change the jewellery.”

He shrugs off his jacket and begins to unbutton his navy shirt.

A strange sound escapes me, which he doesn’t comment on, and I spin to face the wall. He’s undressing in front of me. What am I supposed to do with myself? He undresses every session, and it never gets easier. I can’t stand here and wait. Maybe I should pretend to sanitise everything again so it looks like I’m doing something and not waiting to see his bare chest with the ring I put through his nipple?

“I’m ready.”

I blow out a slow breath and turn to face him. “Lie down for me, please.” His shirt and jacket are folded neatly on the seat by the wall, and I cut off my drifting mind before I can imagine if he folds everything neatly at home or if he chucks them on a chair and hopes for the best like I do. Would he be annoyed at me if I left my clothing on his floor?

I stand beside his chest and ignore the thick hair scattered across it and how soft and cuddly he looks, and focus on the surgical steel hoop in his left nipple. He never got his right pierced. Got his left, then a week later jumped straight into piercing his penis. And with a painful one that makes peeing a bitch. Or so I’m told.

Couldn’t start with a ladder. Oh no, had to be a Prince Albert.

“Okay, let’s remove this.” My hand brushes his chest as I manoeuvre the ring, and he tenses while I unclasp it and pop out the ball holding it together.

Could have tensed from having the metal removed, or was it because my hand touched his chest? They’re covered in gloves though, so it can’t have felt good. Maybe the rubber caught his chest hair and I hurt him? Seems more likely than him being affected by my touch.

I clean the hoop and put it in a tiny bag for him to take home and turn back to him to clean his piercing site. Gently swiping a swab over it, I glance at him and find his eyes already on me. It’s distracting, knowing he’s staring at me while I work. Makes it difficult to keep my thoughts professional. Especially since he’s talking less today. Usually when he asks lots of questions, or I have lots to explain, I can stop my head wandering. Changing jewellery doesn’t take much thought.

I meet his eyes and smile. “Close your eyes.”

His eyes narrow. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t even get to see it before you put it in me?”

“Nope.” This is where I’m not sure he’ll agree but?—

“Do you promise I’ll like it?”

“Yes.” I hope.

“Fine,” he says, and closes his eyes.

Well, he proved me wrong. I was sure he’d make me show him the jewellery, but there’s no going back now.

I guide the barbell in and screw the end on, careful not to catch hair in it, and then I prod it into place and move to the side so I can see his reaction to my choice.

Snapping my gloves off, I say, “You can open your eyes now.”

His eyes blink open and squint in the light before they settle on me.

I nod to the jewellery with a smirk. “Have a look.”

His eyes slide from mine slowly, and he tucks his chin to look at his chest.

His brow furrows, and there’s a swooping sensation in my stomach. He doesn’t like it. Why did I try to be fun instead of doing a simple barbell? Why did… Is he smiling?

He is. The left side of his lip tilts up, followed by the right, and his brow smooths out. It’s a small smile, but it’s there. I blow out a breath.

I made him smile.

His gaze lands on me again, brows raised, eyes crinkled, smile still in place. “A dinosaur? Really?”

I shrug and purse my lips, but can’t contain my smile. “I figure you were a kid obsessed with dinosaurs. Just bringing some fun to your workaholic life.”

“How do know I’m a workaholic?”

I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. “You give off vibes.”

“Vibes?” he asks hesitantly, as if the word isn’t in his vocabulary.

I nod. “I’ve never seen you out of a suit and you live in a beach town. You’re one of the only people I see in suits.” Although, he’s currently shirtless on my piercing chair with a dino barbell through his nipple, so what do I know?

“I could be on my lunch break.”

“It’s eight o’clock on a Thursday night, Oliver.”

He rolls his eyes, and I rub a hand across my mouth to hide my grin. He’s too cute. I love riling him up.

“Fine. I work a lot. How did you know about the dinosaurs?”

“Lucky guess.” And it was. He can be quiet, doesn’t talk much unless he has something to say or wants to understand something, and seems a little lonely. And dinosaurs are awesome, so who wouldn’t like them?

He sits up, glances at his chest and brushes the jewellery with a gentle finger.

I raise my eyes to the ceiling. Don’t need the image of him touching his nipple in my head, thank you very much, or to replace the image with him touching my cherry jewellery in the same gentle way. Nope. Absolutely not.

“How are the other piercings going?” I cringe. Sure, change the topic from imagining his hands playing with my nipple jewellery to his dick piercings. That’ll help me sleep better tonight.

I’m not emotionally stable enough to change those piercings today. To touch him there. My eyes trace downwards but I drag them back up to his eyes before I reach his crotch.

He reaches for his shirt and shrugs it on. “All good.”

“Good. That’s good.”

He’s finished buttoning his shirt and has his jacket on again. Hiding his piercing. Business ready.

I clear my throat. “Is there anything else you wanted today?” May not be stable enough to check his other piercings or have steady hands to give him a new one, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for him to leave yet.

“That’s all today. Thank you, Ella.” He stands, and the room feels smaller.

He’s so much taller than me. When he’s lying on my piercing chair I don’t notice it as much, sure he takes up all the space on it and his feet hang off the chair, but standing’s completely different.

Standing, my mouth is in perfect line with his nipple piercing, with the jewellery I put in it. My claim on him. Right in front of me.

“Anytime.” I tilt my head back to see his eyes and smile at him. “You know the drill. Immy will put it through at the front.”

He nods and his eyes crinkle slightly, some left over joy that doesn’t quite turn into a smile, and reaches his hand out to me. I slip my hand into his and he shakes it gently. An age-old business greeting I only receive from him. His hand’s warm and envelopes mine, and my rings press against his hand when he squeezes once and lets go, taking his warmth with him.

“Thanks, Ella. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Oliver.”

He leaves the room, and I sigh when the door shuts and press my hands against my heated cheeks. My right hand feels warmer, his imprint left on me, branding my cheek, almost as if he’s the one touching my cheek.

I wish.

I shake myself and tidy the station, putting gloves and everything else I used on him in the bin.

The door crashes open and my hand clutches my chest. “Motherfucker.” I whip to the door and sag in relief. “Immy, what the fu?—”

“Helefthiswallet.” Her words rush together, and I frown at her.

“Huh?” My heart’s pounding too hard to hear.

She sucks in a breath and says slowly, “He left his wallet.”

“He left his wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Oliver left his wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“Yes, Ella. What do I do?” Immy holds the wallet out to me, and I take it.

The leather’s a dark brown and it’s warm. I suppose it was in his pocket and absorbed his body heat. I brush a finger across it and nudge the edge, but clench my hand before I can open it.

“Did you try catch him before he left?”

“I followed him down the street, but he drove off before I could catch him.”

“Did he leave his phone?”

She shakes her head.

“Then I’m sure he’ll call soon and we’ll get it back to him.” A bell sounds. “Would you mind checking that?”

Immy leaves the room to check on the customer, and I sit heavily on the chair. He left his wallet.

He’ll need to come back and pick it up. I’ll see him again. Much sooner than usual.

There’s no one around to hide my grin from.