Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(24)

Not that there was anything wrong with those kinds of tattoos — in fact, I was over the goddamn moon about the fact that I got to do a flower and script tattoo on a willing client today. I didn’t care that it wasn’t my design, that it was one from Pinterest.

Because I would be the one driving the needle.

Still, I longed for the day when I’d have a chair at this shop, when clients would seek me out because of my art, my vision, my style.

I just had to figure out what exactly my style was, first.

I peeled off the rubber gloves when the bathroom was sparkling, putting all the supplies away before I slipped into the back and grabbed my water bottle. I downed half of it before I heard Nero chuckle.

“You’re drinking that water like you’re about to hike the desert,” he commented from where he was at the computer, finalizing the design I’d be working with. It was a Saturday, one of our busiest nights of the week, and every artist was either with a client already, or scarfing down a quick snack before their next one came in. Nero had the ability to be picky with his time, and he only did larger pieces now, a minimum of four hours work. His client had canceled today, and so he’d taken on a last-minute request from some girl on Instagram.

Some girl on Instagram who was willing to let an apprentice mark her for life.

God bless her.

“With how dry my mouth is, it feels about the same.”

He smiled, a toothy grin just barely visible through his thick beard. Nero was what I imagined the Roman ruler he was named after would have looked like if he was taller, beefier, covered in tattoos, and so full of metal he’d never get through any airport without a good pat down. His dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun near the nape of his neck tonight, his beard neatly trimmed where it framed his jaw.

“You’ll be fine. I mean, look at this shit,” he said, holding his palm toward the computer screen. “If you manage to fuck this up? You might as well change careers tomorrow.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I feel absolutely zero pressure.”

He just shook his head, eyes on the screen. “‘No is a full sentence,’” he read. “Who would get that tattooed on them for life?”

“Someone who has said yes one too many times and paid the price for it,” I replied.

“Could never be me.” He took a long hit from his pen, and the sweet, pungent scent of marijuana filled my nostrils before he handed it to me.

Maybe this was another reason Nero was my favorite.

I took a pull, feeling a bit of calm come over me as the smoke left my lips. I handed it back to him after just one hit, though, because one would center me, but any more than that and I’d risk losing my focus.

“What if we tied in the poppy to the end of the script,” I offered, stepping up behind him with my eyes on the screen. “See where the e trails off? What if we turned that into the bottom of the stem, the poppies blooming out of the words.”

Nero considered. “I mean, I like it — but the client sent in this exact picture.”

“It’s going on her forearm, right?” I pointed at how it was laid out currently. “That’s going to look funky, too block-like instead of lengthening. What if we just showed her the options side by side? I bet she’d see it then, how this is a better layout.”

He smirked up at me, pushing back from the computer to let me take his place. I was slightly blushing as I slipped in and made the edits on the iPad, connecting the design and the script and making the poppies a little bit my own, too — dainty, airy, dreamy. When I finished tweaking, I crooked my gaze up to look at my boss.

“It’s better,” he agreed. “But you still have to convince her.”

“And you think I can’t?”

Nero’s eyes landed on me then. “I think if anyone can, it’s you.”

His dark eyes lingered for a moment in a way that made my neck heat. Nero was an attractive man — there was just no way around noticing it. But he was also married, with a tattoo shop his wife named, and her name sprawled across his left pec.

I wasn’t an angel — that much I could easily admit. I liked having a guy’s face between my legs for a night or railing me in the morning before breakfast. And most times, we didn’t talk enough for me to know if they were in a relationship or not.

With Nero, the age gap didn’t bother me, but as Giana would say, I wasn’t into love triangles or the cheating trope. I knew he was married, and he was also the one who signed my paychecks.

He was my boss and my boss only — that was a firm rule.

Before I could reply, my phone rang, Julep’s face lighting up the screen. I smiled at the picture of my former roomie, ducking out the back door and into the alleyway as I accepted the video chat.

“Damn, girl — you trying to get a daddy tonight?” she said in lieu of a normal greeting, her eyes catching on my cleavage before she waggled her brows.

“Mommy, actually. I’m tattooing my first skin. Here’s hoping she loves my work and leaves a big tip.”

Julep’s mouth popped open at that. “Shut up! Are you freaking out?”

“Very much so, but trying not to, so please — distract me.”

“You’ll crush it,” she said with full belief, and my icy heart warmed a bit at the sight of the smile she wore so effortlessly. The way her skin glowed, how her eyes didn’t carry so much weight anymore… it was enough to defrost me. She’d really turned a corner since the first time I’d seen her strung out in our living room on moving day. That ragged girl with the dark circles under her eyes was nothing more than a memory now, permanently banned now that Julep had found true happiness with Holden.