"I got one last month." I roll my jeans over my right hip to show off my new tattoo. A star. It's a little lopsided, but it's mine.
"Badass." He flashes me that million-dollar smile. "I have another one to show you." He offers his hand. "Upstairs."
There's weight in the word.
Upstairs isn't for conversation. It's for what I've been dreaming about for the last three years.
"Okay." I down half my drink. Pray for the liquid courage I hear so much about. "Upstairs."
I take his hand and follow him to the bedroom.
Dean presses his lips to mine.
He strips me out of my clothes.
He lays me on the bed and warms me up.
Pulls a condom from his jeans. Tears it open. Slides it on.
Then he's on top of me, easing into me, whispering dirty promises in my ear.
It hurts, but not as badly as Gia told me it would.
The pain fades to discomfort.
To pleasure.
To the thrill of knowing that Dean and I are one.
He takes care of me. Makes sure I come.
It feels like we go forever.
We finish. He helps me dress. Promises to stay in touch.
Never does.
He doesn't text, or call, or email, or IM.
The next week, he graduates.
And I spend seven years without hearing a peep from Dean Maddox.
Chapter Two
Chloe
The bell rings as I push the door open.
Morning light floods the cozy shop. For a moment, the September heat competes with the air-conditioning. Then the door falls closed, and the air-conditioning wins.
It's freezing in here. December in Big Bear freezing.
It doesn't fit the cozy vibe. This place is awfully cute for a tattoo shop. Red and pink string lights, tattoo mock-ups in heart-shaped frames, black counter, white walls, shiny hardwood floor.
Two of the suites—there are three of them, oak half-walls on two sides, mirrored wall on one, lobby on the other—are empty.
The one in the middle…