Laura Wright - Shattered Ink

Youre kidding me with all this, right? Lisa asks, her pointer finger tracing an imaginary Z down my body.

All what? I ask with slight irritation.

Lisas crystal blue eyes, expertly rimmed in charcoal, narrow. The toddler-napwear-meets-prison-inmate thing youre working.

The ocean breeze kicks my hair around my face. Orange is the new black, Lis.

She looks insulted. Thats insane. Who said that?

I dont know. I think I heard it on Colbert last week.

Colbert is a comedy show, Addy.

Tired, and not up for the night out my best friend has dragged me to once again, I take a step back, lift my arms. Look, I see nothing wrong here. Just, you know, trying to be comfortable on a Thursday night.

You look like youre headed to bed.

I wish I was, I return with a bit of a pout, then silently amend, to Rushs bed. His big bed, cool sheets, and that hot, hot body I miss so much it hurts. I groan.

Youre losing it, Addy. You know that, right?

I frown at her, but inside my mind Im screaming YEAH, I DO.

Growing more exasperated with me by the minute, Lisa glances over her shoulder at the dozens of people coming in and out of the large Santa Barbara oceanfront house, spotlighted in moonglow and about thirty iPhone screens. I can practically feel her urgency to get in there, mix it up, flirt her sexy leather ass off with all the boys shes been crushing on at school. But Im keeping her from it. With my orange sweatpants and tear-stained t-shirt.

When she turns back, she looks mutinous. Im just going to say one thing to you: Vegas.

My insides go instantly hot and soft. Its a depressing feeling, but addicting and predictable. Kind of like my life has been over the past five weeks. When Rush and I chucked the past and decided to try this again, I was so happy. So excited. A second chance at a first love. But as Lisa put it, Im losing it. In the past five weeks, Ive only seen him three times, and for no more than a day or two. I have school and finals and graduation, and he has work and travel. Its like the most beautiful torture in the world, seeing him. Im on a high when Im around him. When hes gone, I crash. And I cant seem to bounce back. Im utterly and completely addicted to him. Im jealous of anything and anyone who gets to be near him, and there are actually times when I dont give a shit about graduating, about getting my marketing degreeabout a job or a future. I just want to be in his atmosphere. I just want those eyes locked on mine, and those inked arms around me.

Of course, I havent told him any of this. I dont want him to think Im a loser. I dont want him to know the truth. I dont want him to walk away from meor shit, runbecause this time, its not just love that would be lost. Itd be my heart, my breathmy sanity.

Vegas, Addy, Lisa repeats, her perfectly arched brows lifting expectantly. You owe me.

I sigh, at her, at myself and my crazy thoughts, and stuff my hands in the pockets of my orange sweatpants. Come on, Lis. I paid you back for the convention a million times. Dont make me remind youor myselfabout that waxing party I helped you host.

Her mouth twitches. No, sister friend. This isnt payback for the convention. This is for all the drives back and forth to the airport, the hours of listening to Rushs messages and trying to decode what hes really saying, the mornings I pull your ass out of bed and to class.

I actually recoil. Seriously?

Hells yeah, seriously.

Some random guy walks by and gives Lisa a very dazzling, very appreciative smile. I dont blame him. She looks hella sexy in her tight leather pencil pants, low-cut lacy top and messy side braid. As she returns the smile, her expression curling into one of heat and promises, she waves at him. For second, I remember what its like to flirt casually and just have a good timeact my ageand I dont miss it. Any of it. I only miss him.

I inhale deep and exhale heavy. God, this is bad. I shouldnt be this obsessed, this close to the edge, over a guy. I know Rush isnt feeling this way. Or at least he doesnt act like it. When we talk or see each other, hes chill, sexy, into me, for sure. But not like thisnot like me.

When Lisa turns back to face me, takes in my relaxed-wear once again, she sighs. Look. I know you miss him, Addy. I know youre head over heels, as the kids say. I know you want to be with him every second of the day. But youre starting to fall apart.

Starting? I say on a slightly manic laugh.

Lisa remains serious. Its so not like you.

I know. I shake my head. Ive never felt like this, Lis. Sometimes its actually hard to breathe. Its more than just loving him, its the fear of losing him. Just the thought of it breaks me apart inside. I dont know what to do with that.

Her expression softens. I get it. I do. But youre going to have to hold back and chill out. What youre working here isnt cute, if you know what I mean. I believe the boys call it Psycho Bitch.

Nice. But I know shes right.

Maybe you need to take a little break from each other?

No. The word is out of my mouth fast and impassioned.

Date other people?

Impossible.

Lisas lips press together in a worried frown. For a second, she just stares at me. Then she shrugs. Okay.

I know that word, and that look. Shes freaked out by me. Welcome to the club, sister friend. Im sorry.

She shakes her head.

No, seriously, I continue. Im sorry Im such a mess. Im sorry Im being such a shit-tastic friend.

Dont worry about it. I love my little train wreck in orange. A smile tugs at her lips.

Im surprised when my mouth curves upward. Okay. So, lets forget about my insanity and obsessive needs for a few hours. Were going to party. Hard. Loose. Wild.

She laughs. Oh, Jesus.

And. I gesture to my offending ensemble. Just to show you Im trying, Ill go home and change.

Lisa shakes her head. No, youre fine. Actually, maybe its better this way. Dolled up, you bring competition to the field, and you know Im good with getting all the attention. Come on, beeyotch. She grabs my hand and leads me through and around several small pockets of students and up the path to the front door. And for the record, fashion-wise, orange isnt the new anything. Except maybe a huge boner killer.

Theres a rule about this, bro.

Yup, I say, staring at the top of Vincents head, which is now sporting a green-tipped mohawk. The guy is worse than a chick when it comes to style and color up top.

And I think youre the knucklehead who came up with it, he continues.

I mentally shrug. Could be.

Vincent pulls back on the iron and flips his peepers up to meet mine. I notice hes added a second piercing to his eyebrow. So, what gives, man? And dont tell me its the loooovvvve thats brought your ass to my chairbecause Ive seen you turn away rock royalty when they wanted the name of some chick inked onto their skin.

Discussing my private shit with anyone makes my balls shrink, so I point at my hand, aka Vs work in progress. Can you finish?

I just dont get it, bro, he continues like the deaf numbnuts he is. Breaking the rules for a hot piece of ass has never been your

My eyebrows jack up and I send him a look. Hey. Watch yourself.

What?

You dont talk like that. You know, not if you want to keep your blood inside your body and all.

Shit, bro. So hostile.

Addisons my girl, dickhead, I growl. Not a hot piece of ass.

I dunno, man. Vincent starts back in on me, moving up my thumb with his signature shade of black. Addison has a pretty hot ass. I mean, Ive never seen it without denim or anything, but I can imagine