"Why did you do that?" I asked, cradling my newly tagged wrist in my hand.
"So you can remember my name." He put the lid back on the pen then tucked it behind his ear.
"That's silly. Of course I know your name."
"Really? I haven't heard you say it once."
"Yes, I have." I protested, though not really sure if that was true.
"All right, say it now." He stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head way back to look at him.
"Fine." I scoffed, "I'm not afraid to say your name," then I swallowed hard. "Brando." My voice sounding breathy as my heartbeat quickened. He was so close I could smell cologne mixed with the natural scent of his skin. I remembered burying my nose in his neck and inhaling just as I bit down. His groans echoed in my memory. I met his gaze and found his eyes were dark and clouded with passion.
"Fuck," he whispered, pulling me to him. Before I could think, his lips were on mine, his tongue plunging deep as he pushed me against the wall. I hungrily kissed him back, open-mouthed and panting. The stubble on his face felt scratchy against my skin as I gripped the hair at the back of his head, holding him tight. He released me as quickly as he'd grabbed me. I stumbled backward, putting my hands against the wall for support. A group of people had started walking down the path, talking loudly and laughing. Brando grabbed my hand and pulled me around to the front of the house.
"Yo," a male voice called from the crowd. "Yo, Brando." We stopped moving then Brando let out a defeated sigh before turning around.
"Yeah?"
The man came down the path with his arm around the cute brunette from earlier. She had been leaning on the guy for support, her legs wobbly and her eyes half closed.
"Rosie is trashed, man. We need to get her home."
Brando ran a hand over his face then looked down at me.
"Un-fucking-believable," he mumbled, looking honestly torn over what to do. Thirty seconds before that I had been prepared to follow him wherever he was taking me, but that little interruption had provided enough time for me to regain control of myself. As much as I had resented the sight of Rosie, she'd been the best thing to happen.
"I'd better go. I'm parked over there." I tried to loosen Brando's grip, but he wasn't ready to release me.
"Carina, wait..." he said, still holding on to a few of my fingers, "can I come to your place later?"
It was tempting. So tempting.
CHAPTER THREE
Brando
I had the worst fuckin' luck of anybody I knew.
I carefully shoved Rosie onto the backseat of my car, then slammed the car door. I'd been so close to spending the night with Carina again. The way she hesitated when I asked her about going back to her pl
ace. The words had been on the tip of her sweet tongue. The taste of her lips and her smell on my shirt still lingered. I could have been balls deep in her that night if Rosie hadn't ruined it all up by emptying her entire stomach right there in front of everyone. The crowd that had brought Rosie to me scattered like a bunch of cockroaches, leaving me all by myself to get her cleaned up and in the car. I started the engine and Rosie began to mumble and moan.
"If you throw up in my car, you are fired," I yelled over my shoulder and started the engine.
She was an apprentice at my tattoo shop, East Street Ink. She started off as a regular canvas, then started designing tattoos for clients. One of the other artists had suggested offering her an apprenticeship. Rosie had been a nice girl despite her edgy appearance. Long jet-black hair, bright red lipstick, and one arm covered in ink that stretched over her shoulder, down her bicep and stopped at the elbow. She had also developed a crush on me, but it had always remained low-key. It showed in the subtle things she did. Bring me food even though I'd never asked her to. Linger over my shoulder while I worked. Staying late with me while I closed the shop. Offer to take on the position as cashier for six, sometimes seven days a week without being paid more money. The welcome mat had been rolled out, just waiting for me to make a move. Rosie was just a little...off. I couldn't put my finger on it. Usually, something like that wouldn't have stopped me, and I wasn't sure why it suddenly mattered.
I banged on the door of the apartment Rosie shared with a roommate. A wide-eyed girl opened the door then quickly directed me to Rosie's room. I had just dropped her on the bed when she reached for me.
"Wait. Don't leave, Brando," she slurred. I let go of her and moved away before she could grab on to me.
"I have to leave, Ro."
"No." She sat up, using her arm to flip the heavy curtain of hair back away from her face. "Why won't you stay?"
"Because you're drunk. You need to sleep it off." I knew I wouldn't have stayed even if she were sober, but I didn't want to be a jerk. Instead of the easy letdown I was going for, my words had given her hope.
"Okay." She smiled softly, then sank against the pillow. "You're right. I shouldn't drink that much anymore." When her eyes fluttered closed, I turned and got the hell out of there.