22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

PISTON

One Sunday a month we open the shop for flash art and walk-ins, and we always do steady business. Usually I don't mind. Sometimes it's even kind of nice to relax into the muscle memory of tattooing simple pieces I've done a hundred times over before. Hearts, butterflies, skulls, roses… I could ink them in my sleep at this point. Today I'm not sure if I'm grateful for how much brain space it's leaving me for spiraling thoughts or not.

In between clients, I glance at Hero over and over again. Is Milo right? Will he brush the whole thing off as the two of us being adults and free to make our own choices? Or will he see it as a betrayal? I'm so used to the familiar twist of guilt in my stomach that I barely notice it. Hero trusted me to look out for his son and instead I started messing around with him. I just can't see how anyone would take that well.

Do I even have it in me to call it off at this point though?

The smell of lavender antiseptic tickles my nose and the buzz of tattoo machines is a white noise that lets me sink into a meditative plane of thought while I prep my next walk-in, cleaning her skin and making polite small talk. Even while I'm chatting with her about the recent crazy weather and how close the holidays are getting, making sure she's comfortable and relaxed before I start, my thoughts stay stuck on Milo the whole time.

I try to ask myself the question again and again. Can I end it with Milo? Can I tell him it's over and actually keep my hands off him? Can I watch him get over me and start dating other people?

How I manage to keep a serene smile on my face while grinding my molars so hard I give myself a tension headache, I'll never know.

It's not just sex that my brain is stuck on, either. It would be easier to break it off if that were all it was. No, it's little things that burrow deeper under my skin the more I think about them. Like the weight of his head on my shoulder when he falls asleep while we're watching TV together, and the way he gets so caught up in his own thoughts that he'll start talking to me halfway through an idea, so I have to scramble to catch up. Why do I even like that? Why am I smiling just thinking about it?

He's narrowed down his choices for his first tattoo to ten seemingly random possibilities. To Jag's delight, the floppy puppy made the cut. Milo printed out his options and taped each one to the top of the counter, so every customer who comes in can vote on which one he should get. It's ridiculous and so Milo. And, fuck, I want to be the one to cover him in a patchwork of art, each one representing a different part of himself, a different moment in his life he doesn't want to forget, a snapshot of who he is today before he becomes someone else tomorrow.

I pause to wipe away the blood on my client's skin and glance over my shoulder at Milo. He's waving his arms animatedly as he talks to the woman Tex just finished up with. She got a cutesy little ghost on her wrist, and it sounds like he's now regaling her with a harrowing albeit way over-the-top ghost story from his time as a gravedigger. My heart thuds and my skin tingles like it's too tight.

Whoever Milo is tomorrow or next week or next year, I have no doubt I'll be just as smitten with that version of him as I am with this one. He's so worried about picking a career and sticking with it, about becoming the kind of adult he thinks he's supposed to be, but I just want to see him happy. I want to be the stable foundation in his life that allows him to grow and have adventures while knowing he'll always have somewhere soft to land.

The answer I've been searching for all day doesn't hit me like a ton of bricks, it settles over me like a warm blanket. Hero will understand. He has to. I'll make him understand.

"Hey, you up for a ride tonight?" Arrow asks as the day starts to wind down. Milo is checking out the last of the walk-ins for the day and I'm sterilizing my station.

"Uh…" I glance at Milo, then at Arrow. He arches an eyebrow at me, waiting. Does he know? He can't possibly know. Just because Jag clocked it in two seconds flat doesn't mean everyone else has. "Tonight's not good, but how about tomorrow night?"

"Sure thing." He clasps my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know I've been busy with Lewis lately, but I miss you. I swear, I'm not going to be shirking club stuff forever."

Oh, that's why he was looking at me like that. He hasn't seen through me and Milo, he's just feeling guilty that he's been so wrapped up in his own new relationship. I huff out a relieved laugh and slap him on the back in return.

"Don't worry about it. I get it. I promise none of us feel neglected."

"Speak for yourself." Jag sniffs dramatically.

Arrow frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Jag.

"Don't wind him up. You know how he gets."

"Hey, wait, how do I get?"

"Protective and people-pleasing," Hero says.

"There's a reason we called you Daddy for years," Tex tags on.

"I thought we all agreed that I'm the only one who gets to call him Daddy now?" Lewis appears unexpectedly from the back room.

Tex may be twice his size, but I swear he jumps about a foot in the air at the implied threat. Brick chuckles as he brushes past to take out the trash from his area, and Jag flashes an approving grin while simultaneously rubbing the spot where Lewis left that bruise on his arm a few weeks ago.

"Seriously, man, don't worry about it," Hero assures Arrow. "We all get it. Soon enough, things will settle into a new normal and we'll be out riding and doing our usual stuff together again."

"I wouldn't count on it," Jag mutters. My skin turns cold, even though I don't think he's a big enough dick to just blurt out his suspicions to Hero. Jag is a shit-stirrer, but he's not an asshole.

"Why's that?" Tex asks.

"I just don't think Arrow's the last one who's going to end up dicknotized around here. It's like a plague or something, haven't you noticed? It happened at Four Bears Construction, it happened at Big Bull Mechanics… One person goes and gets all starry eyed and everyone else drops like flies after that."

Lewis scoffs. "Excuse you, he's not dicknotized, we're in love."

Jag rolls his eyes. "Same difference."

"Well I doubt you have much to worry about, man," Hero says. "We're a bunch of lone wolves."

"Do lone wolves usually wear matching jackets?" Milo asks.

Tex snorts a laugh. "Well, if Cupid's hanging around with his arrow, I'll volunteer."

"Cupid can eat shit if he thinks he's getting anywhere near me," Brick says with more venom than I'm used to hearing from our quiet, reclusive piercer.

"Hell yeah, solidarity," Jag says, holding his hand up for a high five. Brick just stares at it for a second, then turns to leave.

I sneak a glance at Milo, holding my breath and waiting for the conversation to reach its end, preferably without anyone noticing I didn't bother to weigh in. I was never against the idea of forever with someone, I guess part of me just never really believed it would happen.

"Ready to go home?" Milo sounds casual, but I can see the color in his cheeks and the way his eyes dart nervously to Hero, then back to me.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

MILO

I cling to Piston, pressing my body against his back as we cruise down the road towards home. My heart hammers so hard I wonder if he can feel it thundering against his back. I woke up this morning and part of me wanted to say ‘never mind' to the whole conversation we planned for tonight. We don't have to figure anything out yet. It's too soon to risk everything.

I tighten my grip on the buttery soft leather of his jacket and try to force myself to breathe evenly. If he tells me it's over, that I'm not worth risking his friendship with Hero, I'm pretty sure I'm going to do something fucking embarrassing like cry or beg or… fuck, I don't even know what. All I know is that my heart has been in my throat all day thinking about it, and I don't know if I can take it.

We pull into the driveway and then coast straight into the garage. He cuts the engine then swings his leg over to dismount the bike. My knees wobble as I pull off my helmet and scramble after him.

"What are you in the mood to have for dinner?" he asks casually, like my fate and future aren't hanging in the balance as we speak. Okay, that may be a little dramatic, but still .

There's no time for food. I need to know what he's thinking right this second or I'm going to come unglued. But at the same time, I want to cover my ears and hum really loudly so I won't hear whatever he's going to tell me. Oh god, I think I'm going to puke, actually.

"Mi?" Piston says softly.

How can he stand there looking so concerned and so damn sweet when he might be seconds away from breaking my heart? It's not fair.

I force a smile and take off my jacket and shoes while he stands still, watching me, waiting for me to say something. An answer about dinner? An explanation for why I'm being so weird and quiet? I don't know. Maybe he's as mixed up about this conversation as I am, dreading it and anxious to get it over with all at once.

"Maybe, um… let's talk first and figure out dinner after?" I suggest, dragging my hands through my hair.

"Sure." The tension in his face relaxes and he smiles, like really smiles at me.

Is that a good sign? Please, please, please let it be a good sign.

I drag my feet a little as I follow him into the living room. Piston takes a seat on the couch, but I'm too keyed up to do the same. Instead, I wander over to give Quincy some attention. With my back to Piston and the adorable little amphibian smiling and following the path my finger traces along the glass, the conversation feels slightly less daunting.

"So…" I clear my throat. I don't have the first fucking clue how to have a conversation like this. I'm the relationship virgin here, shouldn't Piston be taking the lead? I suppose he's just as new to fooling around with his close friend's son, so he might be just as out of his element as I am.

"None of this went the way I planned for it to go," he says.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was wrong, I can't take this at all. I'm too fragile for this kind of rejection. I make a kissy face at Quincy, ignoring the way my throat is tightening and my eyes are already burning, preparing to unleash a downpour of tears.

"You know what? I think I was wrong. We don't need to talk about this right now." My voice sounds high and frantic, and Quincy swims away to hide in one of his many underwater buildings. Lucky axolotl. I would love to drown myself in a sunken city right about now.

"Mi." Piston's voice is much closer than I was expecting, his warm breath ghosting against the nape of my neck. "Let me finish?"

I swallow hard and nod, still staring into the tank even though my little friend is hiding now.

"My immediate attraction to you the night we met was unexpected, finding out you're Hero's son was unexpected, and falling for you has been extremely fucking unexpected."

My breath catches and a million new questions jump to the forefront of my mind.

Does " falling for me " mean falling in love with me?

Is unexpected a bad thing?

Does he see a future?

Does he want a future?

I bite my tongue and wait though.

It feels like a fucking eternity of trying not to squirm and trying not to interrupt him with a barrage of questions before he finally speaks again.

"I don't want to keep you a secret, baby. I want to take you out on proper dates and have you in my bed every single night without feeling guilty about it. I want to stare at you at work without worrying that Hero is going to notice and catch on. I want this to be real."

I spin around, my heart thrashing wildly inside my chest, and he's right there .

"You mean it?"

His throat bobs and he lets out a breathless laugh. He nods. "I mean it. Let's find the right time to tell him, and I'll deal with the fallout. You're worth it."

I launch myself into his arms. Piston catches me, but he stumbles backward, collapsing onto the couch with a laugh. I can't stop smiling even though it makes kissing him a little awkward, our mouths not fitting together quite right. But fuck it, I don't care.

He tangles his fingers in my hair and traces the shape of my grin with his tongue. For once we don't scramble to undress each other, even though my cock is hard against his thigh and I can feel his swelling with every lingering kiss. The terrifying urgency, that voice in the back of my head telling me this might be the last time isn't there anymore.

This isn't the end, it's the beginning.