My brows bunch together in aggravation. “You’re my cousin Beckett’s 24/7 bodyguard. And you’re a tattooist! You tattooed him…” I trail off, a pit in my sore ribs. I have tattoos. Oh… Ohhhh. Does that mean…? Did he tattoo me? “Are we friends?” I whisper. He looks to the door again. “I should go wait with everyone—” “Nonono,” I slur together in haste. “Please, stay. Please.”
