Dancing. Music. That would be nice. I bend over my spread of tarot cards and flip another. The Chariot. What did this one symbolize?
Something about control over one’s emotions. Taking control.
I glance back at the TV, at the people dancing, then lift the card from the carpet. It looks like a sign.
Tomorrow I’ll call Ev and go out, and forget for a while about my family, about my irrational fear of the future and about Ocean.
***
Evangeline, Ev, meets me at a café near campus for lunch. I haven’t seen her in almost a week, which feels like a year, and I’m excited about Damage Control gossip. That tattoo shop is like a hub of cosmic energy, the epicenter of karmic rays.
Okay, actually it’s a heart-throb hotspot. Even if most guys working there are taken, and Ocean’s not interested, there is Ev’s hot brother, and Dakota’s millions of cousins, and Jesse’s sexy roommates and God knows who else, all of them passing through the shop from time to time and leaving the female population drooling in the aftermath.
Plus, I get to hear stories about the boys of the shop, first-hand, and I really want to know the details about Shane and Cassie. After all, I feel a bit responsible. At Zane’s wedding, I did tell them things that may have forced things a little.
What was I to do? Their feelings for each other were clear to see. I didn’t think it might hurt to tell them about it. Knowing they ended up together is not a big surprise, but I want to know Shane is okay. He went through a lot, and his story tugs on my heartstrings.
Even if Ocean is hotter.
Okay, seriously? I shake my head at myself as I enter the coffee shop, scanning the tables for Ev and pulling out my phone to call her. Dark spot or not, muscular chest or not, I should forget about Ocean. Stop obsessing. It’s not healthy. So those boys are hot. So what?
You didn’t obsess like this about Jesse, a traitorous little voice in the back of my mind quips as I spot Ev and shove my phone back into my purse. Or Shane. Or anyone else but Ocean.
It’s the name, I tell myself firmly. And the blue hair. The colors. So many colors, from the blue of his hair and eyes to the caramel freckles on his nose to the red coloring his cheekbones when he gets excited about something.
I don’t think there was enough color in my life growing up. Not enough craziness. It’s what I missed back at home. Maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to Ocean, with his crazy hair and easy laughter. Another rebel, like me. Another person trying to break loose of conventions and be his own self.
A very handsome self, too. Yeah, that doesn’t hurt at all.
“Hey, Kay!” Ev gets up from her seat to hug me, and I inhale the familiar sweet scent of her shampoo and the floral softener of her sweater. “I got you the burger you like.”
“Chipotle barbecue sauce? You didn’t.”
She pulls back and waggles her brows. “Sure did! I know you like it hot.”
“You little minx, you.” I laugh as I settle in my chair and hang my purse on the backrest. “You like it hot, too, admit it.”
“Maybe.” She bats her lashes at me. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
A brief flash of her with Micah hits me, kissing against a wall like I have seen them do many times, and another flash follows on its heels, of Ocean pressing his tall, muscular body against me, brushing his mouth over mine—
“I’m famished.” I duck my head to hide the color rising to my face and grab a fry from my plate. “Mm, these are good.”
“You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You absolutely are. What’s going on here? Who’s the lucky guy?”
“No fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“The guy you had hot sex with.”
“You mean the hero in the latest novel I read? He’s tall, dark, sexy—and very imaginary.”
She lifts a brow as she gathers up her
burger and eyes it, as if trying to decide the best angle from which to dive in. “Is that so? Then why are you uncomfortable?”