“You good?” Emmie asks as I drop onto the couch beside her. She passes me over a can of soda, and I don’t waste a second in taking it from her.
“So good.”
“That didn’t hurt?” she asks, glancing down at my sore thigh.
“It was worth it.”
She shakes her head at me. “You’re a lost cause, you know that right?”
I look over at Seb getting comfortable on the chair and his eyes find mine.
“Yeah. I don’t even care.”
“I seriously hope you’re not about to ink some cute pink fucking teddy or something into my thigh,” Seb grunts as the buzzing restarts.
“I’m brave, Seb. But I’m not that brave,” I joke. “Trust me, yeah?”
He nods at me and then to D to get started.
* * *
“I’m hungry,” Emmie whines a few hours later.
“Go get us all food then,” D tells her, pulling his wallet from his pocket and throwing it down on the couch.
“Sure. You coming?” she asks me.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
I put my skirt back on a while ago but quickly shove my feet into my boots and head over to where Seb’s laid out with his eyes closed on the chair.
To start with I wondered—sickly hoped— it was just hurting him so much that he couldn’t focus on anything else, but it soon became apparent that he was actually asleep. Fucking weirdo.
He’s clearly not totally out of it though, because the second I press my hand to his chest, his eyes flicker open and he stares up at me with a softness in his expression that melts my heart.
“We’re going for food. Any requests?”
“Yeah, take someone else with you.”
“Seb, we’ll be fine.” I tap my purse, silently telling him that I’m more than equipped.
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.
As it happens, the second we get to the reception area, Biff is pulling her coat on, ready to go out.
"How’s it going?” she asks when she spots us.
“It’s good.” I pull the hem of my skirt up, showing her my new ink. “We’re going for food.”
“I’m getting coffees for the guys. Let’s go.”
She might be a few years older than us, but as we walk down the street, I fall into easy conversation with Biff about her job and life in general. It’s quite refreshing, talking to someone who doesn’t have the faintest idea about the drama surrounding my life right now. It makes me realize just how oppressing it is, looking over my shoulder every second and waiting for that sick fuck to make his next play.
Thankfully, the trip that results in burgers, fries and a huge trayful of coffee is uneventful, and when Emmie and I manage to get back into D’s room, he’s just putting the finishing touches on Seb.
“That looks insane,” I tell him, although Seb doesn’t look down. He hasn’t since D started. His restraint is impressing me, because there’s no way I’d have been able to wait, especially if I had no clue what was happening to my own skin.
“Let me wrap your boy and we can eat,” D says, his deep voice rumbling around the room.