14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

ARROW

I drag my fingers over Lewis's petal soft skin, following the curve of his spine, his back rising and falling with slow, relaxed breaths. My eyelids are heavy and my eyes are burning from lack of sleep, but I can't stop looking at him. A strip of early morning sunlight peeks through the gap in my curtains to fall over his face. He looks just as tired as I feel, all slow blinks and sleepy smiles, his hair mussed from hours spent kissing and fooling around, and time in between when I stroked my fingers through it and we talked about everything and nothing.

"I'm going to be dragging ass all day today," he says around a yawn. "What time is it anyway?" He starts to roll over so he can check the time, but I grab him and pull him closer before he can pick up his phone.

"Early," I murmur. "So, so early. You have hours before you need to get out of bed."

He laughs and wiggles his bare ass against my cock. It's down for the count after several rounds of lazy handjobs and frantic frotting throughout the night, but it gives a twitch anyway.

"I wish that were true," Lewis groans, yawning again and burying his face in my pillow for a moment. "I really need to run home and shower though."

"Call in sick," I suggest, biting down gently on his shoulder.

I'm acutely aware that my mask is fully off at this point. I'm nowhere in the neighborhood of playing it cool, and it seems like Lewis likes it. He reaches back to run his fingers through my hair and wiggles against me again with a sigh.

"I can't. Big, important things happening this morning."

"Oh yeah?" We spent most of the night talking, but we hadn't made it around to the topic of careers yet, more caught up in debates about whether Marvel or DC are the better comics and what constitutes ‘classic' rock. "Are you a CIA agent? Have a dictator of a small, island nation to depose before lunch?"

He giggles and rolls out of my grasp, throwing back the blankets and getting out of bed before I can stop him again.

"Yes, that's exactly it," he says solemnly, blinking owlishly around the bedroom in search of his clothes.

"I think they ended up on the floor near the foot of the bed."

He shuffles over and scoops his shirt up. "Yup, thank you."

I sit up and lean back against the headboard, my sheets pooling around my waist as I watch him pick up the rest of his clothes and pull them on one by one, like a reverse striptease.

"What do you do?" I ask once he's dressed.

He smirks at me. "Tell you what, take me out again tonight and I'll tell you." He winks and backs towards the door.

"Deal," I agree with a chuckle. "Hold on, I'll drive you home." I start to get out of bed, but he waves me off.

"I'll Uber. You get some sleep."

I grunt, tempted to argue, but I decide to pick my battles. He slips out of the bedroom, and I sink back down in bed, listening to his footsteps as he makes his way through the house, stopping to talk to Gregory for a few minutes again before going out the front door. As tired as I am, there's an excited buzz under my skin that keeps me from being able to relax and go to sleep, so once he's gone, I get up and head into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

My phone is sitting on the kitchen counter where I left it last night before I went to pick up Lewis, blinking with a missed text.

HERO: I need a huge favor. I know your hand is still fucked up and you aren't planning to come in, but could you just open up for me this morning and when my appointment gets there, go over the paperwork?

I smile and shake my head, then text Hero back that I'll take care of it. I have several hours before I'll need to go open up, so I take my time with coffee, breakfast, and eventually a shower, replaying every second of last night with Lewis in my head.

I showed him the side of me that all the men before him have called "too much" and he's still here. More interested than ever, as far as I can tell. Nothing's going to derail us now, not if I have anything to say about it, anyway.

When it's time to head over to Ink Slingers, I put on my Gregory harness and grab his protective goggles. He yaps and spins in circles until I pick him up and strap him on. I pull into the back alley as always, let my little buddy loose, and unlock the back door to head inside.

Gregory darts ahead of me, sprinting into the shop while I hang up my helmet. Before I can even set my jacket on the hook, a loud yelp sounds and he hauls ass back to me, his tail tucked between his legs.

"What's wrong, little dude?" I scoop him up and tuck him under my arm, then I carry him back through the door into the main part of the shop to see what scared him. Honestly, it could have been anything, from a particularly large dust bunny to a menacing moth.

I stop in my tracks, my mouth falling open and my eyes going wide. It's not a dust bunny or a moth. Standing in the middle of the shop there are three alpacas and four goats. Each one of the goats is wearing what appear to be custom knit sweaters, and one of the alpacas is wearing a jaunty beret on its head, while another one of them casually chews a piece of paper, and the third just stares at me with its ears back.

"What the fuck?"

The front door swings open and a couple of familiar faces appear.

"Dammit, we missed his initial reaction," Stone, one of the owners of Four Bears Construction here in town, and no doubt the owner of the goats, complains.

The other man—Journey, who's married to Red, one of the mechanics at Big Bull where my brother works—laughs. "I don't know, still probably worth taking a picture now, he still looks pretty fucking horrified."

"What the fuck?" I repeat. "Why are there farm animals in my tattoo shop? Do you have any idea how unsanitary this is?"

Stone holds his hands up in defense. "It wasn't our idea."

Journey leans against the alpaca with the beret and scratches its rump. "You know I rent these guys out for kids' parties and stuff. I got an email yesterday from a guy claiming to work here, saying you wanted to have a petting zoo in the shop as some kind of promo. It was obviously bullshit, but it sounded hilarious, so I figured, ‘why the fuck not?'"

"And the kids couldn't resist getting in on the fun," Stone adds, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of baby carrots to offer to each of the goats.

"A guy claiming to work here…" As soon as I repeat the words, the pieces fall into place. "Dammit, this prank war has gone too far."

"They always do," Stone says solemnly, like he has firsthand experience with exactly that problem.

I huff and run my hand over my face. "Okay, get these animals outside, I need to clean and sanitize before customers start showing up."

"That's it?" Stone pouts. "This was anticlimactic."

"We still got paid the rental fee," Journey points out with a shrug.

"Don't leave yet," I say. "Just take them out to the parking lot."

"The petting zoo is still on?" Stone perks up.

"We might as well make the best of it." I set Gregory back down. He quickly skitters around me and peeks out from behind my legs to get a safe look at the strange animals. I pull my phone out and call Jag.

"Hey," he answers, his voice rough and groggy.

"Get your ass down to the shop. You have a petting zoo to run today."

LEWIS

"Motherfucker," I growl, slamming my hand against the window. "What do I have to do to ruin their day?"

The parking lot is buzzing with people there to enjoy the damn petting zoo that was supposed to fuck up the Ink Slingers' whole day. Instead, the goblin twink is outside, enthusiastically supervising the kids, who are gleefully feeding and playing with the alpacas and goats while the one with the dark beard and colorful socks peeking out from his combat boots directs their parents inside the shop, presumably to get tattoos.

"Maybe it's time to drop the whole thing?" Rowan suggests. "Take the high road, ignore their goading, be an adult."

"That's loser talk, Row. Never surrender." I huff and walk away from the window. "I'm going outside to get some air."

It's not like we have any customers coming in today anyway. Anyone who has even glanced in the direction of my shop has been quickly distracted by the furry animals and never made it inside. I stomp through the back room and push open the door that leads to the alley. I pull my phone out of my pocket while I walk and look down at the screen. I want to call Arrow and vent to him about this annoying fucking day, but he's missing so much context on this whole situation, I should probably wait until tonight to tell him about it.

My feet hit the gravel and a yapping bark draws my attention as the door swings closed behind me. I look up from my phone.

"Gregory?" I ask, furrowing my brow at the familiar little white dog racing towards me. "Where did you come from?"

I bend down and he jumps into my arms just like he did last night at Arrow's house. While he licks my face, I stand up and look around, my eyes landing on a Harley with a purple paint job parked among the other bikes that belong to the assholes who run the tattoo shop.

My stomach clenches and I shake my head, trying and failing to make sense of everything. Maybe it's because I'm sleep deprived, or maybe it's because my brain knows that as soon as I put the pieces together, I'm going to figure out something I don't want to know, but no matter how hard I try, none of this makes sense.

While I'm standing there holding the dog, staring at the motorcycle that I'm almost positive belongs to Arrow, the door to Ink Slingers opens with a shrill groan.

"Gregs, where'd you get to, bud?" Arrow's deep voice rumbles through the alley.

My lungs shrivel and my skin turns clammy. I can't even feel my limbs as I turn on the spot to face the man I finally let my guard down with last night.

"Jason," I choke his name through my dry, tight throat.

He stops mid-stride, his eyebrows pulling together. "Lewis, what—"

"You work at Ink Slingers?" I cut him off, bending to set down the dog now that he's squirming wildly in my arms.

"Yeah, I—"

I bark out a humorless laugh, again cutting off whatever he was about to say. I can't breathe. I can't be this stupid, can I?

"Holy fuck, you guys are way better at this prank thing than I am." A high, manic giggle bursts from my lips and I drag both hands through my hair. "I'm fucking hiring drag queens to roast you, meanwhile you're some double agent seducing me so you can, what? Describe my O face to your friends and all laugh about it? Trick me into falling for you so you can dump me in front of them? This is so fucked up."

"Lewis, I di—"

I put a hand up and shake my head rapidly. "I seriously can't do this right now. I need a Xanax… or a fucking time machine."

Before he can say another word, I dart past him, back into my lovely, peaceful little flower shop where I'm not the butt of any cruel jokes, and slam the door behind me.

ARROW

"Fuck," I roar, spinning and driving my already injured fist into the dumpster before my common sense has a chance to tell me what a horrible idea that is. The sound of the impact resounds through the alley and pain sears through my hand, all the way up my arm.

It's a grounding feeling, a hell of a lot better than the emotions raging inside of me. Lewis is the flower shop twink? And he thinks I knew. He thinks I knew and that I fucked him as a prank ?

I drag in shallow breaths, trying to get myself under control. This is fucking Jag's fault. I clench my teeth so hard I wouldn't be surprised if I crack a molar. Gregory is right on my heels as I storm back inside. The shop is packed with people eager to take advantage of the flash ink we're offering on special today while their kids are entertained by the animals outside.

"Hey, are you okay?" Piston calls after me as I shoulder through the crowd, not really seeing anyone.

I don't stop until I reach Jag. He's busy dancing in the parking lot, acting like a carnival barker in a neon orange crop top and a pair of tight, artfully ripped black jeans.

"Yo, Arrow, what's—"

I grab him by the front of his shirt and shove him against a car.

"This stupid prank war is over," I growl.

For once, he doesn't have a cheeky, sarcastic retort. In my rational mind, I know that the hundred pounds I have on him means fuck all. Jag could kick my ass without breaking a sweat. But the helpless rage boiling inside me must be written all over my face, because he just holds his hands up in surrender.

"Dude, it was just for fun. Fucking relax."

"He doesn't think it's fun." I tighten my grip on Jag's shirt. "He thinks we're all fucking laughing behind his back. He thinks I'm some kind of asshole who's only sleeping with him to humiliate him."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He cocks his head.

A firm hand clamps down on my shoulder and a little bit of clarity slips in. I take a deep breath and let go of his shirt, then turn my head to see Piston standing there, his eyebrows raised, a concerned look etched onto his face.

"Want to take a walk and talk about it?" he says.

The conversation we had in the back room surges to the front of my mind.

"You knew."

His stoic expression doesn't so much as twitch.

"I had a strong suspicion, but I wasn't sure," he says, squeezing my shoulder a little tighter.

I shrug him off. "Well, a heads up would have been fucking nice."

I shove past him, bumping my shoulder against his. I whistle for Gregory, strap him back into the harness, and then climb onto my bike.

I need to clear my head. Then, I need to figure out how to make things right and prove to Lewis that he was never a joke to me, that everything I said to him last night was real.