"You ever reach out to her?"
"Not yet. I'm trying to give her space. I stalk her on Instagram, but otherwise I'm not around."
"You stalk your sister?"
"I don't follow her around. Though I could. She's way too free with her location."
"Who isn't these days?"
"You."
"You still follow me?"
"I told you. I love your work." Really, his tattoos are amazing. "You still haven't told me how you got into it."
"Ryan. You saw him. Looks a lot like Dean only with a permanent scowl?"
I nod. That sounds vaguely familiar.
"He was already working at a shop. He got Brendon a job there. Dean got jealous. He wanted to do ink too. When I saw his first piece—everyone starts by doing a tattoo on themselves."
"What did he do?"
"A spade."
"What did you do?"
"A star." He stands, places his foot on his chair, and pulls up his jeans. There's a tiny star under his ankle.
I laugh. "It's so cute."
"I know." He shakes his head. "It's awful. I need to fix it."
"You can't. It's sweet. It's perfect."
"Yeah. It feels like a part of my history. Like a scar almost. Sure, it's ugly—"
"Take it back."
He shakes his head. "It's terrible."
It's lopsided and blurry. But the imperfection only makes me love it more.
"It's ugly and it doesn't suit me anymore, but if I changed it…"
"It would be like erasing the past."
"Exactly." He picks up his drink and takes a long sip. His posture softens as he sits. He's relaxing. Letting his guard down. "My sister… I love her. But she doesn't have her shit together. She's always looking for me to bail her out of trouble."
"Like?"
"Some loser ditching her at a bar. Whatever. Anything. I want to help. But she's at the point…" He shakes his head. "I try to put my foot down, but she always slinks back to our parents, and they let her get away with murder."
"Mine are the same way with me."
"What have you ever done bad enough to deserve that?"
"A lot."