heart flutter. And his tattoos, which I never got tired of looking at. They decorated his brown skin, making him look beautiful, a living, breathing piece of art I could sink into, body and soul.
Everything about him stirred me, and the more time we spent together, the more right it felt to be with him.
But.
He said I was a “hospitable host.” And I didn’t want to be just his host. Or his caregiver. Or even simply his lover. I craved more of him, all of him, not just in pretend but for real. With Kyle officially gone, I’d been able to slowly scrub myself clean of him. When I thought words like “wedding” and “marriage” and “forever,” there was no longer a knee-jerk sense of horror or bitterness or fear. There was only a flush of anticipation.
We’d been living together for weeks since Javi’s accident. He’d been able to return to work, spending tireless hours at the tattoo shop in preparation for the filming of the show. Rumor was that it would no longer be a one-off, but a pilot for a series. Reagan and the producer, Jason, had been tight-lipped. But Javi had been humming with a nervous energy, his stuttering increasing until he needed to sign when we talked about what it would mean for him to be on a television show. What it might mean for us.
Those talks felt like a tightrope we were both on, trying so hard to keep from shaking the other off. It thrilled me to think of what that kind of success could bring for Javi, both economically and emotionally. But I also knew it would be a lot of stress, and his speech impediment would be broadcasted to the world if they filmed him speaking, not just tattooing.
Of course I wanted to protect him. Shield him from any hurt that might stem from internet comments. But I’d also learned my lesson. It wasn’t my job to be his protector. He was a fighter. He didn’t need or want me to fend off attacks—he just needed me in his corner.
“I’ll get back to work then,” I said, reaching down to stroke his ankle. “Let me know if you need anything. But not as my guest, Javi. You’re my everything, you know that, right?”
His grin softened into a smile, genuine and lovely. “Okay. Not as a guest.”
Mind spinning with all the unanswered questions about our future, I stood. There might be a lot we didn’t know yet, but I still felt light on my feet. We would figure it out. We’d be a team.
Partners, in every sense.
29
Javi
There were lights in odd places and more people milling around the shop than I was used to. It made me nervous, but Reagan’s enthusiasm was so contagious, it kept the worst of the anxiety at bay. I’d finished my back piece just in time to film the pilot, and my client was stoked to show off his work. It spanned the entirety of his back and continued to his buttocks.
I’d worked on it for over thirty grueling hours, making sure every detail was just right. The client had opted for a four horseman motif, but wanted to include a nod to his four daughters. Instead of the usually puffed-up masculine pageantry in horsemen images, I’d made these seductive and feminine, dark and dangerous, with lady riders who looked like they could end the world with a single kiss.
It was one of the coolest pieces I’d done yet, and even without the show, it would have been on display in the shop for a long time.
The producer of the show, Jason Reed, was hurrying around to make sure we were still on schedule. For over a week he’d been in the shop taking notes, speaking to each of us, and planning with Reagan. He’d spent so much time next to Dane’s station that I was sure my friend had been chosen to be the highlighted artist. And it made sense; Dane would knock an interview out of the park.
Gordo and I lounged in my area, waiting for direction. Well, I was waiting. Gordo was there for some much needed emotional support. I’d feel him standing next to me, our hips brushing. Or he’d play with my hair, wrapping curls around his finger. His presence was reassuring. While I was proud of Get Ink’d, this kind of attention was difficult for me to reconcile with my growing but still vulnerable self-esteem.