I was in the zone, needle in hand, carefully etching a design onto the canvas of skin before me. My focus was absolute, every movement deliberate. The buzz of the tattoo machine filled the air, drowning out everything else.

But then, a sudden jolt disrupted my rhythm. My hand faltered, and I glanced up to see the customer wince in pain. It was like a cloud of annoyance that settled over the room the moment my hand slipped. My heart raced as I realized I'd veered too close to an already sensitive area. Panic surged through me.

"Oops, I'm so sorry!" I blurted out, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

His eyes narrowed, and he let out a huff that said more than words ever could. I could practically hear the exasperated sigh that was on the tip of his tongue. The customer's irritation was palpable. "You've got to be kidding me. This is ridiculous."

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting in knots. He shifted in his seat, his body language tense as he sized me up. I could practically see the internal struggle playing out on his face – the desire to get up and walk out, versus the fact that he'd probably been looking forward to this tattoo for ages. 

"I can fix it, I promise. Just give me a moment."

The customer shook their head, irritation turning to frustration. "No way. I want someone else to finish this. I'm not risking any more mistakes."

My heart sank. I couldn't blame him. I'd messed up, and he deserved a flawless tattoo. Liam appeared beside me, sensing the tension.

"Hey, I've got this," he said, giving me a reassuring nod. "Emma, take a breather."

I nodded gratefully, my hands still shaking a little as I stepped away from the station. Liam smoothly took over, his expertise evident in every stroke. I watched, a mix of admiration and frustration swirling inside me.

***

My footsteps felt heavy as I pushed open the ornate doors of "Café Royale," my mood as gloomy as the overcast sky. Mom's ultimatum – school or move out – echoed in my head, overshadowing everything else. I was a drop of ink in a sea of fine dining, an out-of-place soul seeking refuge.

The familiar waiters greeted me with warm smiles, their kindness a small comfort amidst my turmoil. "Hey, Emma, usual table?"

I managed a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, thanks."

I settled into my regular spot, my gaze wandering to the delicate chandeliers above. This was my safe haven, a place where I could escape the chaos, even if just for a little while.

Speaking of chaos...I spotted Ellie not too far off dressed like she was expecting someone. I'd be surprised if she was stood up. Surprised but oddly satisfied. She's in this figure-hugging number in a shade that's supposed to be 'sophisticated' but honestly just looks like it's trying too hard.

The fabric is all silky and shiny, like she's trying to blind anyone who dares to look her way. And the neckline? Well, let's just say it's plunging to levels that make me wonder if gravity itself has a say in this outfit. I mean, seriously, was it a dress or a cry for attention?

There are these oversized earrings that dangle like they're auditioning for a role in a chandelier. And the necklace? It was practically a glittering gold collar that looks like it could double as a weapon in case someone tries to steal her spotlight.

Ellie's teetering on these skyscraper heels that probably come with their own set of warning signs. I mean, who needs practicality when you can risk a broken ankle just to make a fashion statement, right?

As she took a seat, her dress made this rustling sound that's basically the soundtrack of 'I'm trying way too hard.' She's all poised and elegant, like she's auditioning for the lead role in a high-society drama. And her smile? Well, it's so practiced and rehearsed that I half expect her to break into a toothpaste commercial any second.

But hey, who am I to judge? If Ellie wanted to channel her inner diva and strut around like she's on a catwalk, more power to her. Maybe it's her way of making an impression, of demanding attention. Or maybe she's just trying to prove a point – that she's the reigning queen of extravagance. She's really not. 

Either way, I'll be over here in my 'regular clothes', sipping my drink and rolling my eyes just a little bit. After all, there's no need for all that glitz and glamour when you're just out for lunch, right?

Then Ellie's voice shattered the fragile peace. "Wait, is that... Emma?"

Lila's incredulous expression mirrored Ellie's, as they both stared at me as if I were an exhibit in a sideshow. My sister's eyes locked onto my bag, her curiosity piqued.

"What's with the fancy takeout, Em? Stepping up from your fast-food runs?" Ellie's mocking tone hit a nerve, and I clenched my fists under the table.

"What's with the get-up? You're not usually this decked out." I asked. "Or did Brady finally decide video games were better than dating your sorry ass?"

She starts getting all huffy because, surprise surprise, her date is a no-show. I couldn't help myself, alright? I made a little joke, just a tiny quip about her charming personality scaring potential suitors away. I mean, come on, it was practically begging for a witty comeback.

And boy, did she take the bait. Her eyes practically shot daggers at me, and before I know it, she's slapping one of her milkshake cups away. I watch in a mix of amusement and disbelief as it crashes to the ground, milkshake splattering in all directions.

But she's not done yet. Oh no, she's not. She's standing there, practically fuming, and she mutters something about me being a total loser. And then, in some sort of bizarre milkshake vendetta, she raises her cup like she's about to dump it on me.

Before she could though, a stranger stepped in, his presence commanding. I looked up to see a guy standing there – tall, a bit of stubble on his chin, and his hair pulled back into a ponytail. Bad boy vibes radiated off him like heat waves. He halted Ellie's snide remarks with a mere look, his defense of me unexpected and bewildering. The tension hung heavy in the air, and my sister retreated, silent for once.

"Walk away," he warned, his voice low and dripping with authority.

Ellie's bravado crumbled like sandcastles against a wave, her gaze dropping under his intense scrutiny. Her eyes widened as the stranger's intense gaze locked onto hers. I couldn't help but notice the subtle flush creeping up her cheeks – she was in awe. And yet, fear danced in her eyes, a mix of attraction and intimidation that left her speechless.

As his words hung in the air, my heart skipped a beat. For the first time, I felt a surge of protection, a shield against the constant storm of Ellie's taunts. He was a formidable presence, a guardian angel in the form of a hot, enigmatic bad boy.

Without a word, Ellie turned on her heels, her fingers tightening around Lila's arm. She pulled her out of the restaurant, her steps hurried and her usual snark silenced.

Lila shot me an apologetic look before being dragged away. I was left standing there, my heart still racing, a mixture of gratitude and confusion swirling within me. The stranger's actions had thrown me for a loop, but one thing was clear – for once, I felt a glimmer of safety, a rare moment of being shielded from Ellie's barbed words.

Before I could even thank him, he turned and walked away, leaving me staring after him in surprise. There was an air of mystery about him, like a character from one of those romance novels Ellie would mock me for reading. But right now, all I could think was that maybe my lunch break had just taken an unexpected turn for the better.

***