Gabe
With a double serving of frozen custard in hand, Lo leaves Freddy’s Diner with a smile on her face. It’s fucking magic, and I gawk at her like a cockhead as she waits for me to unlock the car.
“Earth to Gabe ... are you okay? Do you need me to drive for a bit?”
“No. I’m okay. I’m good.” I slide the key in the lock and open my door. Lo climbs into the passenger side and thrusts her frozen custard at me while she fiddles with her phone to get the music sorted. I lick the custard. Sweet, cold, sugar dances over my taste buds and a low groan rumbles through my chest.
Lo gapes at me. “You did not just eat my custard.”
“Why do you make it sound so dirty?”
“Gabriel Dash, you take that back.” She punches my bicep with her tiny fist. “There is nothing dirty about frozen custard.”
I laugh. “Not unless you want there to be. What about your custard, Freckles? Wanna give me a taste?”
“Oh my god! I think I might puke. Please never refer to my—or anyone else’s—bodily fluids as custard.” She gives up on the music and snatches her treat back. “I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of miss Annie. You’re out of control lately.”
She laughs, and the sound does things to my balls. She’s right. I am a fucking horn bag, but I can’t stop thinking about her scent on that fucking ridiculous dildo, or the taste I’d snuck when she wasn’t looking.
Her brow furrows and she gives me an awkward smile. “Okay, I’m seriously becoming concerned for my safety.”
I slide the key in the lock and turn on the engine. “Sorry. Let’s just say my hand ain’t cutting it these days.”
“Well don’t take it out on my frozen custard. She’s sweet and innocent.”
“Now I know you’re not talking about your pussy, because she is far from innocent.”
“Gabe! Will you just drive please?”
What the fuck is wrong with me? This is my best friend. We can’t go down this goddamn road because I can’t afford to lose her, and though I know she’s as big a flirt as I am, I don’t know that she still looks at me like that, or if she ever really did—despite all the sexual tension on that fucking awesome night that I got to sit between her sweet thighs, put my hands all over her body, and call it work. Making a move could be catastrophic. Fucking Lo would be the end of everything.
I check my mirrors and pull out of the lot as my best friend stares at me with a puzzled expression.Shit. Inviting her on this trip was just asking for trouble.
After dumping our bags at the hotel, we head straight to the magazine. Everyone is super friendly and Lo sits quietly in a wingback chair across from me, sipping boujee coffee as the journalist conducts the interview. When the journo—Kathleen—takes us down to the studio, I’m nervous as all fuck and Lo grabs my hand and squeezes. I’m not shy about my body, but I’m not exactly model material either. Yeah, I’m a fucking hulking mass of muscle because of good genes, a fast metabolism, and because Tommy makes me get up at nine a.m. to kick my ass at the gym. Other than the freaking selfies that Lo forces upon me, I’ve never posed for a picture a day in my life.
I’m led to a changing room where a stylist picks out several pairs of jeans and a few short sleeve dress shirts, though she tells me they’ll want a decent number of shots of me without my shirt ... to get all my tattoos of course. I don’t bother telling herI’d need to be naked head to toe for them to capture them all because no fucking way am I letting my junk hang out for all of theInked Skinreaders to see.
I get changed into jeans and a navy–blue shirt—Lo always says the color makes my eyes pop—and I don a pair of tan leather dress shoes. The second I step out of the dressing room, a stylist is on me, ripping my shirt open, and undoing the top button on my jeans. She runs her hands through my hair before slicking it back and steps away to appraise her work. She glances at her boss and announces, “I’d fuck him.”
Kathleen laughs, but Lo’s jaw is clenched tight like she’s bristling. “What?”
She gives me a tight smile. “You look great.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Gabe,” Kathleen asks, her eyes darting between me and Lo. “How have you not marked all of this virgin flesh already?”
I laugh. “I have. It’s just in secret places Lo doesn’t show very often.”
“Do you think you’d be willing to show it in the magazine?”
“What?” Lo screeches, her eyes as round as saucers.
“Purely as a prop, we wouldn’t even have to include your face if you’d prefer. Though, you could easily feature in ourInked Skin Girlsmagazines and the guys would just eat up that cute little face and tight body.” Kathleen meets my gaze and I’m completely torn. I don’t want other guys seeing Lo’s smooth inner thighs. While that tattoo is absolutely some of my best work, I’m not on board with the idea of dudes jacking it to my best friend while she’s spread eagle on my “table”.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”