Page 11 of Too Sweet
He makes my heart race for two different reasons, and I’m not sure which is stronger: lust or unease.
I wince, what Toby misinterprets for pain.
“Five minutes, and I’m done,” he assures.
“Cody asked you last week if you’re okay to go back on stage,” Nico says, the sharpness of his voice softening with every word. “Are you a dancer?”
“Um, no. I sometimes work with the DJ who played at the party. Your brothers like the covers we record, so they asked me to sing a few songs.”
He falls silent, staring into my eyes with the intensity of a diving hawk. “Piano, vocals... What else?”
“Piano is my passion. Singing is just for fun.” With my free hand, I find the corner of my dress, twisting the fabric between my fingers. “I write songs, and thanks to Six, I meet people from the industry.”
“Do you have time later? I want to show you something.”
God, how can an invitation sound like a threat?
The thought of being alone with him makes me feverish, stressed, and snug at the same time. Whenever he looks at me, my legs want to run, while my ovaries would prefer to crawl out of my body and stroke him.
“Sorry, but I have plans.”
“Next time,” he replies, glancing at my wrist, and for once, I read him with ease when his eyes widen a little. “You good?”
“She’s fine,” Toby supplies, positioning a small towel under my wrist to catch the excess blood. “You know the anesthetic’s not an injection, right? It’s a cream, Mia. Next time, ask for it instead of taking pain meds before your appointment,” he chuckles.
Pain meds are not the reason I’m bleeding so much from a tiny tattoo, but considering four artists turned me down in the past when I explained I might bleed excessively, I don’t correct Toby.
Three minutes later, he’s done. He disinfects the new ink, then covers it with aftercare cream. It’s perfect. Small, but not too small, the letter and heart symmetrical, even though he didn’t use a stencil.
“Thank you. And thank you for explaining the meaning of the other one.” I grab gauze from my bag, make a quick dressing, and hold my hand vertically to discourage bleeding.
“Yeah, no worries. Take care, Mia. Don’t wear bracelets until it’s healed.”
My eyes cut to Nico, another awkward wave on the go before I can stop myself. “Bye.”
“I’m going, too. I’ll walk you out.”
“Where are you going?” Toby frowns, opening the takeout box. “You just fucking got here. Sit down.”
Nico doesn’t explain, just pats Toby’s shoulder, then grabs his keys from the coffee table while I move to pay for the tattoo.
“Where’s your car?” He looks up and down the street once we leave the studio.
“I can’t drive.” A glint of surprise flickers across his face and I realize it sounds like I’m too young to drive. “I mean, I’m a terrible driver. Five minutes into my first lesson, I crashed the instructor’s car. I never took the wheel again.”
The lights on a green Mercedes parked by the curb flash twice. “Get in. I’ll take you wherever you need to be.”
“It’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll take a cab.”
His features pinch, annihilating the softness that was there a second ago. “I won’t hurt you, Mia. You know that, right?”
I’m not a great judge of character, but I’m not paranoid enough to think my friend’s brother—the mayor’s son and grandson to the loveliest eighty-year-old woman I ever met—could hurt me.
“Yes.”
“Then get in.”
I shake my head again. “The cab is fine, thank you.” I rock on my heels, and when he doesn’t reply, I addbyebefore my heels click-clack against the pavement as I walk away, calming down with each step away from Nico.
