when we started seeing each other romantically.”
Bryan was chewing on his lip again. He had almost feminine features that made him pretty. The dusting of freckles across his nose and wide eyes gave him an innocent look that I knew from my own experience some men ate up. Just not always in a healthy way.
“Before I went away, I’d been...approached. By some older men who wanted to help me. And now that I’m out, they’re back, and they’re offering me a lot. A home, money, security. It would be nice to be taken care of, you know? Plus—” his blush grew crimson “—I kind of have a thing for older men anyway.”
My mouth was dry. I thought about Trevor, who had money and confidence, but whose offer had come with a hefty amount of small print. But there was also Reagan. He was a good guy who really and truly wanted to help.
Choosing my words carefully, I said, “There’s nothing wrong with that—older men are like anyone else. There are good guys and there are bad guys. I think...I think if these men want to give you things in exchange for sex, stay away. And you aren’t even eighteen yet, so it’s illegal for them to sleep with you, anyway.”
Bryan hid his face in his hands, and I worried I’d stepped in it. Maybe he was already sleeping with one. It made my stomach feel full of ice. But then Bryan said through his fingers, “There’s no sex yet. I’m, uh, a virgin.”
“Ah. Okay. So I guess I would tell you there’s nothing wrong with liking older men. But there is something wrong when any partner, old or not, displays abusive or manipulative traits. For now, maybe just stay with your grandfather and try to learn who you are right now and what you want. And save a relationship until you’ve figured that out. You’re allowed to take some time.”
Bryan sat up straight and offered a shy smile. “Okay. Thanks for dinner and talking to me. I don’t have a lot of friends right now. Or, at least, ones that won’t get me in trouble.”
“I get it. I’m glad you asked. And now you have a huge group of guys who are your family, okay? We take care of our own.”
He drove me back to my car in the Get Ink’d lot and left me there, feeling a bit more buoyant than I had earlier. There was still about three hours of shop time for the late tattoos. Even though we didn’t need a receptionist for phones during those after hours, I knew it helped the guys when I was behind the desk for walk-ins or to help with cleaning after.
I waved and said hellos as I walked back to my desk, but Dane, Mateo, and Javi were all immersed in their clients. I let the drone of ink guns lull me into a calm space, pulling up my email and beginning to research the potential classes my advisor had sent me for the fall.
My back was sore and my mind humming with information when the door pinged. I looked up, expecting an inebriated walk-in, as that was our usual this close to closing. I was prepared to turn them away when my words caught in my throat. It wasn’t some rando.
It was the Professor. Ian.
He was in a suit that I supposed was casual but still looked expensive and very out of place in a tattoo shop. He was looking around with a subtle grimace like he smelled something awful. Ian dragged his gaze to me and the grimace shifted into a subtle but nasty smile.
“Ah, what a surprise to see you here, Channing.” He shrugged. “Or not a surprise. You’re his desk boy, too, then, are you?”
Deep breath.
“I’m home from school, if you’ll recall. From college, where I have a double major and a fast track to graduation. Our current receptionist is out on maternity leave—I’m just helping out the crew while I’m here.” I gripped the counter, trying to stay calm. I didn’t need to prove myself to this fucker. “But honestly, that’s not your business. How may I help you?”
Ian’s smirk grew bold and the volume of his voice grew with it. “You can’t help me with anything, darling boy. I’m here for Reagan.” Reagan’s name rolled off his tongue in a purr. It sounded possessive. “He and I have unfinished business, you see. I was thinking I’d like to paint a follow-up to the one