He had an hour to get over to Tattered and that meant bumming a ride. Luck had finally landed his way when Jenny walked out with him after the test. “That was brutal. I hope they aren’t all like that.”
Ethan didn’t think the exam was too awful, but didn’t want to make her feel bad. “Yeah, it’s got to get easier.”
“Hey, you want to go get something to eat?”
He’d love to have more than coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches. “I can’t, but thanks for the offer. I need to get across town. I have an appointment.”
“Oh, wait! Today is tattoo day! Wasn’t he gorgeous? When I went to get mine, he barely said two words to me, but after it was done, I was amazed at how quickly he’d worked. I guess when you don’t chit chat you can get a lot done.”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah, he didn’t say much to me either.” God, he wanted those soft lips to saying anything, he didn’t care as long as he could stare at them and imagine sweet kisses in places no straight guy wanted to go. “I guess artists can be funny like that.”
“Hey, I can drop you off. I’m doing a community service volunteer thing for a social work class.”
Ethan almost audibly sighed. “Really? That would be great.”
“No problem,” she said, and headed toward the parking lot. “So you think he’s straight?”
Ethan had no reason to think otherwise. Well, except for the way those emerald eyes shadowed to a shade darker than a moss-covered tree whenever their gazes met. Like he was mad—no pissed—no...dazed. Hell, Ethan had no idea what was going on underneath that gorgeous hair, but whatever the thoughts, they had nothing sexual to do with a nineteen-year-old broke college student.
Jenny talked about everything from how she thought the guy she was dating had cheated on her to a new pair of boots she’d bought last week. Ethan was fine with the lack of space for him to share anything going on in his life. He was embarrassed that he was homeless and the reason was because he refused to let a fifty-six-year-old sugar daddy suck his cock.
As the car pulled up to the curb, Ethan looked down at his phone. He was five minutes early and hoped Niko would be willing to do the tattoo in small sessions so he could pay for each time individually. Maybe he’d hear back on the applications he’d left and have a second job by the time he needed to come back.
Jenny didn’t put the car in park. “Have a good time. Let me see it when you get done. I can’t wait to see what he came up with.”
Ethan nodded. “Sure. Thanks again for the ride.” He pulled a five from his pocket. Will this be okay?”
“Seriously, Ethan? Keep your money. I’ll see you next week.”
He was actually grateful she didn’t take the money. If he didn’t use it for something to eat tonight, he’d have to grab some cash from his apartment money. This week’s check hadn’t been much help. He’d been sent home early two days because the evening had slowed down to a halt and he was the part-time employee who had to go home first.
Trying to stuff his anxiety deep in his gut, he opened the door and waved as he watched Jenny pull away. Taking a deep breath, he turned around. People were walking around inside the lobby. Once again, it looked packed.
“You going to stand out here or get some ink?” Ethan turned so fast, he almost tripped over his feet. Niko. “Seriously, man, you’ve got to stop being so jumpy. Come on, skinny jeans. Let’s get you on my table.”
Ethan felt his throat ripple with a hard swallow. Forget the tattoo, he really...really wanted to be on Niko’s table—ass up and panting. “I have to talk to you about that.”
He had to take two steps at a time to keep up with Niko as he walked through the door and past the lobby. When Ethan saw the table set up in the middle of the studio, he set his backpack on the floor next to a chair. The most talented tattoo artist in the city was ready to put a permanent mark on his skin. “Before we start—”
“Sit down.” Niko set a Styrofoam container on the table. “Eat.”
What the hell? “I’m good. You didn’t have to get me something to eat. I can get something later.”
“Eat,” he repeated as if Ethan hadn’t protested. “I can’t have a client passing out because he’s hungry. You need sugar to do this. It’s going to be a long two hours.”
“Two hours? It’s only going to take two hours?” The aroma of whatever was in the container made Ethan’s mouth water. It’d been four days since he’d had anything to eat that would remotely fill his stomach.