I was sitting at the base, just chilling on the sofa with a slice of pizza, waiting for Bennett and Declan to come back. They'd received detention from their history teacher. The most I heard was something about a packet of mustard and an inflatable globe.

I can't wait to hear about that, I thought, wondering what they'd done. I was actually a little surprised, considering it's usually Jordan who pulls the crazy stunts and pranks. But to be fair, they're all my bad boys.

Right?

I picked up the remote and scrolled through Netflix for a few minutes before something caught my eye.

That something was Jordan, standing with his shirt off in the doorway.

"Jordan!" I cried, shielding my poor eyes as he sauntered into the room, flexing his muscles.

"What?" He grinned, his green eyes glittering with mischief. "You like what you see?" He wiggled his his eyebrows suggestively.

I just stared at him in horror until he burst into laughter. "I'm just kidding, Naomi. That would just be breaking the contract."

Something about that sentence bothered me, but I shoved it to the side. "Jordan, do you think you could possibly explain to me why you're parading around the base without a shirt on?"

"I am not parading around the base," Jordan protested. "I'm... exploring my domain."

I snorted. "Yep. This has officially turned into a safari. On the left, kids, you'll see shirtless Jordan in his natural habitat."

He rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I was examining my tattoo." My eyes turned from his gaze over to the tattoo on his shoulder.

The fleur-de-lis.

Before I could say anything else, he grinned. "But enough about my body art. How's your henna keeping up?"

I shrugged. "I can't really see my back all that well, so I'm not too sure."

He did his signature eyebrow-wiggle, his acid-green eyes glinting mischievously. "I bet someone could look at it for you..."

"Jordan!" I exclaimed. "You aren't lifting up my shirt. None of you are."

He rolled his eyes. "Naomi, who were the guys who changed you into clean clothes right after Raymond and his goons beat you up? Who was standing right there when you got the henna?"

"I still don't have to like it."

Whatever Jordan was about to reply, I never found out, because at that moment I heard a door slam from somewhere in the hallway and a very grumpy Bennett stormed into the room. However, his jaded look soon turned to horror as he saw shirtless Jordan standing over me.

"What is going on in here?" he nearly shouted, which surprised me considering Bennett hardly ever shouted.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Bennett," Jordan soothed, sauntering over to his tall, black-haired companion. "I was just asking Naomi if her henna needed renewing."

"Did you need to take your shirt off?"

Jordan rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. "Of course not, Bent. I was just examining my own fleur-de-lis. There's nothing going on."

The door opened and slammed shut again, and a second later Declan came in. "Jordan, why don't you have a shirt on?"

"What are you people? The shirt police?"

"Yes," I replied. "Jordan, you're violating the shirt rules. We have to send you to shirt-jail if you don't correct your behavior."

"Fine, fine, jeez," Jordan muttered, stomping off to go and get a shirt. Declan snorted and Bennett just rolled his eyes.

After a while of silence, Bennett spoke. "So there really is nothing going on, ri—"

"Calm down, Bennett. Of course there isn't anything going on. Why are you so concerned, anyway?"

He didn't answer that.

Jordan popped back into the room, now wearing a white T-shirt. "Is this better now?"

"Much," Declan retorted, plopping down onto the black leather sofa.

Jordan sat down beside him. "What're we going to watch?"

I stood up, tossing them the remote. "You guys pick. I'm just going to check on something real quick."

I meandered down the hallway and into the bathroom, and stepped in front of the mirror. Carefully, I lifted up the back of my shirt and twisted around, but the henna was just out of sight.

For the next five minutes, I continued trying to catch a glimpse of the henna, contorting myself into acrobatic positions, but nothing was working and it was starting to get on my nerves.

A few more minutes, and then:

Knock, knock.

I jumped back in fright at the sudden noise. "Who is it?" I called.

"Um, it's Bennett," said the voice, and slowly I unlocked the door, letting him glimpse in.

"Are you all right? You've been in here a while."

I let out a gusty sigh, and he came in, shutting the door behind him. "I'm just trying to see my henna, but the world doesn't want me to see my back today."

He nodded. "Do you want some help?"

Yes, I do. But I told Jordan no. Why should I tell Bennett yes?

I guess I trust him more than I trust the other two.

"Yes," I admitted.

Tentatively, he came over to me, standing behind me. He wrapped his ice-cold fingers around the hem of my shirt and lifted it up, slowly inching it over my back. He stopped when it was only slightly exposing my bra strap. The air was thick with a static buzz, like the supercharged air before a sudden bolt of lightning.

There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke. "Can you see it?" I asked, uncertain.

"Barely," he whispered, his voice lingering in the air. "It's faint."

"Oh," was all I could reply.

Another moment of silence, and then he pulled my shirt down again. His electric-blue eyes, fathomless and deep, were unreadable.

"When are you going to get it renewed?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Whenever."

•§•§•§•

"This wasn't exactly my idea of 'whenever '."

We were standing in front of Milo's shop, just Bennett and I. It had been his brilliant idea to go and get my henna renewed.

Right now.

I wasn't nervous anymore, now that I knew it wasn't going to hurt very much. I had almost liked the sensation, a light tickle on my back.

We walked into the shop. It was still the same as when I'd been before: black wallpaper, all of the tattoo designs framed on the wall, the two cushy black salon chairs in front of the wide glass mirror. The makeshift doorbell rang and the door clattered shut behind us.

"Milo? You here?" Bennett called.

"For the last time, this isn't a Chi—oh hey, Bennett!" Milo rounded the corner, shoving his phone into his pocket. "And... Naomi, right?"

I looked up at Milo and found that he, like his shop, hasn't really changed. He was still wearing the same loose black clothing, grimy black ponytail bun, and he was still covered head-to-toe in artful tattoos. He had a few new piercings, though, including a few on his eyebrow and one on his lip.

"I'm just going to get it out of the way," Milo declared. "Are you two d—"

"No," Bennett interrupted firmly. "We aren't."

Milo nodded gruffly. "Just asking." He turned to me. "Come to renew your henna, have you?"

I nodded.

"Same as last time?" Milo asked, and I nodded again. He studied me for a moment, and then he beckoned Bennett closer with a finger.

Interested as I certainly was, I decided not to pry, and studied the tattoo on my finger. It hadn't hurt, not very much, and I wondered if I would be able to tolerate a real tattoo.

One day. When I'm ready.

Bennett and Milo stopped their very hushed conversation and Milo went to go and get... well, whatever a tattoo artist like himself needed. Bennett turned to face me.

"Naomi? I need to ask you something."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Would you ever get the fleur-de-lis as a real tattoo?" His eyes were brooding.

I nodded fervently. "Of course I would. I just don't know if I could take the pain."

Bennett gave me a long, unreadable look before Milo came back in. He gave the tattoo artist a slight thumbs up, and Milo returned it with a nod.

I'm not sure I like this.

Milo was setting up his supplies. "Naomi, take his hand."

I realized that Bennett had sat down next to me on a stool, and was extending his hand.

"But why? It didn't hurt last time."

"Word to the wise," Bennett cut in. "Don't argue with a person holding an active tattoo gun."

"It might hurt considerably more this time. Because the area from before has already been opened," Milo added, as an afterthought.

Okaaaaay...

I took Bennett's hand. His fingers were still ice cold, but they felt good on my own warm and clammy fingers.

Immediately, I felt a sharp pinprick of pain.

"How badly did that hurt?" Milo asked, uneasy. Bennett was looking at me expectantly, and squeezing my hand.

Never in a million years would I admit it, but it felt just a little better with Bennett holding my hand. But Milo seemed to read my mind with his intimidating black stare.

"It was... bearable."

Milo nodded. "Bearable, I can work with," he muttered under his breath.

And then he turned up the heat.

The pain jabbed me in the back, over and over again, me I clenched Bennett's hand so hard that my knuckles were white. I didn't know that renewing it was going to hurt this much.

"Distract her," Milo commanded over the buzz of the tattoo gun.

"Do you want to hear how Declan and I got detention, then?" Bennett inquired. I grunted and he took that as a yes.

"Well, one of Raymond's goons is in that class, you know, and he was spinning an inflatable model of the globe in class, you know, that finger trick where you spin something on the tip of your finger—"

"I get the point," I choked though the pain. It wasn't at all like Bennett to ramble.

He nodded. "Well, he chucked it at Declan, and Declan had some leftover mustard packets from lunch, don't ask me why, and so Declan half-filled the globe with mustard, and then chucked it back at Raymond's goon, and it exploded all over his face and got mustard everywhere."

I snorted, but it was halfhearted.

He resorted to finger games, and after a while I was used to the new pain. Still, it felt like it was taking a lot longer than the other henna had, and I was starting to get suspicious.

Just as I was about to ask a question, the gun stuttered to a stop and Milo clicked his tongue. "That's some of my finest work, I'd say."

He handed me a mirror and held it in front of me, so I could see my back reflected in the other mirror. And then I realized.

This henna was darker than the other one. It looked more refined, and the black looked deeper and more... black, if that made sense.

This wasn't henna at all.

This was a tattoo.

"Bennett!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing in the small tattoo parlor.

He grinned at me, sheepishly. "What? Do you like it?"

"No," I said and his face fell for a split second before I continued. "I love it!"

I rushed up to him and gave him an enormous hug. I couldn't believe he would do that. He looked a little flustered, but patted my back, awkwardly, careful not to mess with the tattoo.

"Are you mad?" he asked, concerned.

"Furious," I replied. "How could you do this, Bennett?" He forked over a few crisp hundred-dollar bills folded in a silver clip to Milo, who eyed the money hungrily.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," I admitted after, crumbling at his guilty look.

"Why not?" Milo asked curiously.

"Ummm..." I stammered, but luckily I was saved from having to answer that question as Bennett's phone buzzed.

He whipped it out and stared at the screen. His eyes widened and after reading, he handed the phone to me:

JorDunDunDun2 bennett

JorDunDunDun2 bennett

JorDunDunDun2 BENNETT!!!

JorDunDunDun2 where are you bennett

DeckDaHalls3 jordan you idiot you're on the freaking stalker app just look at where he is

JorDunDunDun2 oh

JorDunDunDun2 why are you and naomi at milo's place?????

JorDunDunDun2 I WANT ANSWERS BENETT!!!

DeckDaHalls3 try naomi's phone

JorDunDunDun2 she left it here!!!

Bennett and I exchanged nervous glances. We hadn't really thought that far into this. How would the guys react to my tattoo?

It buzzed again.

JorDunDunDun2 look out the window you guys

Slowly, Bennett and I looked up out the window. The night sky was dark against the city skyline, which was obscured by two teen figures, standing at the door.

Two teen figures that looked a lot like Jordan and Declan...

•§•§•§•

To anyone reading, sorry about the cliffhanger!! I know these are supposed to be one-shots but I couldn't help myself...