Loved With Color

“Well, we’ll just have to see where the night goes, won’t we?”

“I guess we will,” I say winking at her. “What time do you get off?”

“Eight, tonight. It’s our early night,” she says. It makes sense, seeing as it’s Tuesday.

“I’ll pick you up here at eight then.”

“What should I wear?” she asks looking down at lap.

“What you have on is fine with me,” I say. It’s probably not appropriate to tell her I want her wearing nothing at all so soon, so I’ll just keep that to myself.

“I was thinking that I’d make you dinner if that’s okay with you,” I ask gauging her response.

“Oh, yeah. That’s fine with me,” she replies eagerly.

“Perfect. See you at eight,” I say. Everything in me wants to kiss her, but I refrain.

“See you then,” she says and I leave though I don’t really want to. At the door, I stop and look back at her and she’s looking at me. I grin and give her a cocky little wave.

In my car, I look at the clock on the dashboard. What the fuck am I going to do for five hours while she’s still working? I shake my head and pull out of the parking spot and head to the grocery store. I make a mean baked spaghetti, so I grab everything I need for the meal. I also grab something for dessert but I skip the bottle of wine since I don’t think she is old enough for that. Back at my house, which I bought with some of my inheritance, I dump everything I just bought in the kitchen and set about cleaning up the place. My class schedule is rigorous and cleaning isn’t high on my list of priorities, but I am on a break right now.

Come to think of it, women have never been a priority for me either. I have never even been on so much as one date before. I have done everything that was ever expected of me since I was about ten years old. Is it terrible that I don’t really want to be a doctor? Everyone in my immediate family is a doctor. My mom is a gynecologist, my dad is a proctologist, my sister is a pediatric surgeon, and my brother is a cardiologist. The only thing we ever talk about are related to being a doctor or their patients. It’s gotten to be so much that I avoid them like the plague.

At first, it was easy to just go along with it, but after college and now about halfway through med school, I just can’t anymore. I’m at my wits end. I always wanted to do something with my hands. Making furniture has always been my hobby, frowned upon in case I irreparably damage my hands, so I haven’t done it in years. Even after my brief meeting with Shaynah, I feel like taking it up again would be easy. Fuck everything else.

Speaking of Shaynah, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I am not ashamed to admit that I watched her thick ass sway as she walked away from me earlier. God, her skin tight jeans made my cock hard. It’s more than her looks. She seems sad somehow, and I want nothing more than to take care of her, for the rest of my life. I have never felt more sure about something.

I prep dinner and watch the clock. At twenty to eight, I make my way back to The Tattooed Vixen and to my future.

3

Shaynah

I couldn’t concentrate on anything when he left. Nothing save for his tattoo. I have become obsessed with getting my hands on his skin. He sounded different when he was talking about med school, and it was nothing like pride. It was more like disdain. I really hope I read him right.

Even after Felicity came back, I stayed at the reception desk for the rest of the afternoon, skipping lunch. I’ve sketched about fifteen different tattoos for him to look at.

“What are you working on Shay?” Felicity asks me around five-thirty.

“A custom for a guy that came in earlier,” I say not looking up from my sketch.

“A guy? What guy?”

“Blake Worthington.”

“Of the Savannah Worthington’s?” she asks arching her left eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” I say, shrugging. She whips her phone out and looks something up.

“Is this him?” she asks shoving her phone in my face.

“Yep,” I say.

“Holy shit. They are rich. Mega rich,” she says whistling. “He’s a trust fund baby.”

“What?” I ask, finally looking up.

“He’s rich, girl. I bet he tips good,” she says laughing.

“Felicity. Come on. I, uh, agreed to go out with him tonight.” I say rather dramatically. “I didn’t think to ask if you had any rules about dating a customer. It’s never come up before.”

“No. No rules about it, besides he’s not a customer yet,” she says winking at me.