As those still standing form a line, I begin passing forms out to the first group. It’s not so hard when you place a little bit of order amidst the chaos. The papers Corey left on the desk can wait until later. Taking care of everyone that’s here right now is more important.
* * *
“How much time do I have before my next appointment?” Adrian’s voice comes from directly behind me.
I jump, and the papers that were in my hand now litter the floor. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have had a heart attack.” I know that’s not accurate, but I’m not a fan of being surprised either. It was one of the things Dawson used to do when he was upset with me for whatever reason.
“Sorry,” he shrinks back. “I’ll try to be louder next time.” Leaning against the counter, he studies me. No doubt trying to figure out what has me so jumpy. “I’m going to order pizza for everyone since we haven’t had much of a break. Are there any particular toppings you like?”
Who is this guy, and what did he do with the broody Adrian I've known for over a year? He's never once ordered pizza for everyone as long as I've been here. Much less asking what kind of pizza I like. "What does everyone else want?"
"I know what they like," he smirks. "I'm asking what you want."
Not going to lie, I've always hated ordering pizza when it's not just for myself. Everyone tends to give me weird looks when I place my order. "Um, ham and pineapple?" Dammit. My goal wasn't to sound so unsure of my choice. It’s my favorite, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of it.
His nose scrunches up in disgust. "Seriously, that's what you like?"
And that's the look I always get. It makes me feel like I'm abnormal even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with fruit on pizza. "I'm okay with whatever everyone else wants," I relent. Trying so hard not to be the odd one out.
Adrian does his best to school his features, but I can still see that he thinks it's the nastiest combination in existence. "No, that's what you like and that's what you're going to get." Straightening up he grabs his phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to go order it. Can you let me know when it gets here? I'm sure I'll be in the middle of another tattoo by the time it arrives."
"Sure thing," I smile. Him ordering pizza is really weird. And him asking me specifically what I want is even weirder. I'm not complaining though. It means I don't have to wait until after midnight to eat. That happens way too often thanks to working in a place that stays open so late. Sometimes I miss eating at normal hours, but I love working at Life in Ink more. Sighing, I get back to work.
People are still coming into the shop. Some of them with appointments. Others wanting to book a slot with one of our artists. And a lot of them only come in to admire the artwork on the wall. I was shocked, when I first started working here, to learn that most of it was drawn by Charleigh. It's no wonder she's almost always booked solid. She has mad skills when it comes to design and creativity.
A delivery guy carrying a pizza walks inside and straight to my desk. "I have an order for Sophia."
"I think you mean Adrian. I didn't order anything." That’s an odd mistake to make.
His eyebrows rise in confusion as he studies the order sitting on top of the pizza box. Maybe he has the wrong address because there is no way that is going to feed everyone in the shop. Or, the rest of the pizzas are in his car? I've seen the damage Charleigh and Bianca can do when it comes to food. We would need a minimum of four if I wanted any.
"It looks like it was ordered, and paid for, by Adrian. But the instructions say to give it to you." He holds out the paper as if I would question him.
That sounds about right since he mentioned he would be with the client by the time it was delivered. "Okay," I bend down and grab a few one dollar bills out of my purse. "I will make sure he gets it." He hands over the pizza without another word and I set the tip money in his hands.
As soon as the delivery driver is out the front door, I lift the top of the pizza box and take a peek. The whole thing is a ham and pineapple pizza. Not what I was expecting after the look of horror he gave me. Instead of letting the girls know there is food, since he seemed to have ulterior motives, I march straight to his room.
There’s a girl lying face down on the table with her shirt off. I’ve worked here long enough that this shouldn’t cause me to blush, but it does. Chaleigh has done all of my tattoos, and I’m not sure I could undress for one with a guy I barely know. Twenty-One Pilots is playing through the small speaker he keeps by the door. I watch him work for a few minutes, admiring his work, and not wanting to spook him. It wouldn’t be good if he jacked up her tattoo because of me.
Finally, he lifts his hand from her skin, and I clear my throat. “Want to explain why there is only one pizza?”
His cheeks redden, and it makes him look boyish. This toned, completely inked, and focused guy I’ve been admiring for months is blushing. Inside I’m melting into a puddle of goo, but on the outside… I only lift an eyebrow waiting for a response. It’s a tactic my mom uses when she’s being serious. Hopefully it will work on him, too.
He opens his mouth then closes it. After shaking his head, he responds, “I didn’t see that sparkly lunchbox you usually bring in the breakroom. I figured you might be hungry.”
“Oh,” I jerk my head back. “Thank you.” Glancing back into the lobby, I make sure nobody needs me. “But I thought you were getting food for everyone.”
“Well,” he laughs. “I didn’t think you’d let me buy you dinner if I told you I wanted to.”
He has a point. It’s not that I’d feel like a charity case if he did, because let’s face it. The past twenty-four hours have been anything but normal. Adrian has been the main thing that’s had my mind suffering whiplash. After pining for him for a long time, he’s finally showing interest. I can’t help thinking that maybe he wants something from me, or he’s just screwing with my head. It’s not an unlikely possibility after the disaster my life became with Dawson.
“Seriously, thank you,” I say while backing out of the room. I wasn’t hungry before, but now that I’m not busy… My stomach is demanding food. “I can save you a few slices if you want me to.”
“No thanks,” he glares at the pizza box. “You couldn’t pay me to eat that.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” I turn around, wanting to grab a plate out of the breakroom so I don’t make a mess at my desk.
“What are you doing after work tonight?” He asks, and I stop in my tracks.