Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(52)

“Ready to drink, bitch?” Sutton asks as we ditch our aprons and freshen up in front of the mirror in the break room.

“Actually, yes.” Jess is at wrestling again, and Henry’s house is practically vacant.

“You wanna go somewhere else or just drink here?”

“Here,” I say, wanting to stay close for reasons I don’t want to decipher. Plus, free drinks. Can’t beat free.

“I thought you might say that.” She rolls her eyes. “But that works because I want to get a tattoo afterward. If I work up enough liquid courage, that is.”

“What are you going to get?”

“I want the phases of the moon right here,” she says, gesturing to the inside of her upper arm. “Here, let me show you.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling before showing me the screen as we walk toward the barstools. It’s a vertical row of eight moons in various phases.

“I dig it. And I bet they’d take you as a walk-in. That probably wouldn’t take too long.”

“Then booze me up, baby!”

“Oh, this should be good.” Jake laughs, amused, once we take our seats at the barstools. He doesn’t ask what we want. Instead, he slides two lemon drops our way before handing me a beer and Sutton her Jack and Coke. I look down to see two missed calls from a private number, but I don’t want to think about Eric right now, so I turn my phone off and stuff it into my bag.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Sutton says and then raises her shot glass to mine. “To liquid courage,” she declares, and we clink our glasses together.

Liquid courage. I could use some of that. Because this thing with Dare…I think it’s starting to get real. And that scares me more than I want to admit. I’m about four beers in when the conversation turns to him. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.

“Guys who want casual don’t usually buy clothes for you and your little brother, do they?” I ask, maybe a little too loudly.

“Nope,” Sutton says, popping the word from her lips. “Especially when they’re already getting that ass for free.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” I prop my chin in the palm of my hand. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I register that I essentially just admitted to sleeping with Dare. “I think I like him.”

“I think you’re an idiot if you’re just now realizing it.”

“You’re a real peach.” I laugh, taking another swig of beer. “Are you liquored up enough to get your tattoo yet?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Sutton downs the rest of her drink and slams it on the bar top. I hop off my stool, and I suddenly feel a little drunker than I thought I was. I feel happy and buzzed and excited at the thought of seeing Dare.

“Be careful,” Jake calls after us as we’re walking toward the door.

Sutton slings an arm around my shoulder and yells back, “Never,” causing Jake to roll his eyes.

“Have you guys ever hooked up?”

“Ew, Jake?”

“Yes! He’s kind of protective of you.”

Sutton shakes her head. A strand of her sleek black hair gets stuck to my lips with the movement, and I spit it out, making us both laugh.

“No, you dumbass. He’s protective of you,” she says right as we enter Bad Intentions. My face screws up in confusion. Jake barely knows me. Why would he feel protective of me?

“What up, girl?” Matty greets me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I brought you a present,” I say, gesturing to Sutton. “Got time for a walk-in?”

“Hell yeah. What do you have in mind?”

Sutton nods, and she pulls out her phone. The two of them start discussing placement and coloring, but I check out of the conversation when I see Dare. His head is down as he ambles in from the back. A pencil in his mouth, sketchbook in hand. A piece of dark hair hangs in front of one eye, and he jerks his head to flip it out of the way. Once he notices me, he falters for half a second.

“Hi,” I say, walking toward him.

“Hey, Sally,” he says with a smirk. He sits at his stool, and I follow, plopping down on his tattoo chair thingy.

“What is this thing called, anyway?” I ask, swinging my legs onto the chair, then leaning back into a reclining position. “I should probably know these things. I’m like the worst tattoo shop girl ever.”

Dare chuckles. “A…tattoo chair?” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Client chair, if you’re fancy.”

“Pft. Fancy is my middle name.”

Dare squints one eye, assessing. “Something is different.”

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I mean…I’m not not drunk,” I admit, earning another laugh from him. I love the sound. “I like it when you’re happy.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, my cheeks burn hot. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Not much embarrasses me, but revealing too much about how I feel is the exception.

“I like it when you’re unfiltered,” he counters.

“I’m always unfiltered.”

“I like it when you’re forthcoming then. How’s that?”

The only one I’ve been lying to is myself about how I feel for him. I don’t say that, though.