Bad Decisions Good Regrets (Social Experiment #2) Read online

  “No. No. No. Trust me, this is bad. Even my casting associate was shocked.” I sunk in my seat, knowing I had to tell her what I’d done. “You know I’ve been single for a long ass minute.”

  “Because of your crazy ass dating rule and the fact that you think all bad decisions result in a person’s downfall,” Layla interjected.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, yeah. So, I-I told the staff about my OCD dating issues, and then … I may have told them …” I couldn’t even get the words out.

  “Whatever you told them, you’re probably exaggerating,” Layla said. “It's not like you’d ever agree to—”

  “I agreed to enter a no-strings-attached sexual relationship and document my experience.”

  Layla’s mouth dropped. “Ohmygod, please tell me you’re joking.”

  I dropped my head into my hands. “I wish it was a joke, but I definitely signed off on it. I’m not sure what got into me, but once you and I had made it to the part of the audition when we had to list what our experiment would be, it just came out. Based off what my casting associate told me, I think most of the team was intrigued by my experiment given the fact that I work in adult entertainment.”

  “No shit!” she yelled. “I mean, you haven’t even had sex in God knows how long. And you’re gonna fuck a random stranger for two weeks? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

  I would have laughed if the reality of my situation hadn’t bitch slapped me across the face. “We can talk about this later. We’re almost late for our meeting.”

  Instead of cringing, I welcomed the chilly Chicago air as we made our way to the tattoo shop. Layla obviously had a hard time dropping the subject, because she talked about it during our short walk to the front door.

  The moment we stepped into the shop, I instantly knew why my intern had insisted that we check the place out. Although there was no sign on the outside of the building, which made me think construction was still underway, the inside looked practically done.

  The graffiti on the walls was the first thing I noticed. The colorful design was done in a way that was bold, yet subtle. Beautiful, yet edgy. Wooden floors and sleek black furniture gave a rugged and classic look that didn’t seem like it should go together, but it did.

  “This place is bomb,” Layla exclaimed, both of us noting the small set of stairs that led to the mid-level and another set leading to a below level.

  “My intern said they haven’t been open long, but they’ve done a great job with the decor.” For the first time since we’d arrived, I noticed that no one was around, which seemed unusual for five p.m. on a Friday. “Hello, is anyone here?”

  At the silence, Layla and I both looked at one another. “Someone has to be here,” she said. “The door was unlocked. Who are we supposed to be meeting?”

  Taking out my phone, I scrolled until I found the email from my intern. “My intern is pretty new, so all he said was that we needed to meet the owner of this place today. No name of the shop. No name for the owner. Just to check in with reception.” Both of us glanced at the empty reception desk in the front of the shop.

  “Hello,” I yelled again as Layla and I walked in a little farther. “We have a five o’clock meeting with the owner. Is anyone here?”

  At the sound of a voice clearing their throat above us, Layla and I stopped in our tracks and lifted our heads. Oh crap. It can’t be. After signing up for this crazy ass experiment, I would have thought nothing else could shock me today. I figured the easiest part of my day would be meeting with the owner of the tattoo shop. There was no way anything was topping my shit-like-this-doesn’t-happen-to-me list … except maybe the ghost of high school past, belonging to pair of piercing, deep honey-brown eyes that were looking down at me, smirking like he wasn’t at all as surprised to see me as I was him.

  Chapter 3

  “When you can’t find the words,

  let your eyes do the talking.”

  ~ Layla ~

  THESEUS

  Poison Ivy. Or at least, she’d been my poison back then since I couldn’t get enough of being around her any chance I got. Being that I was damn near three years older than her, it wasn’t easy getting close to her in high school without hella people around. I broke my back scheming to run into her in the hallway or swing by a class when I knew she’d be in there.

  A dude like me didn’t memorize a girl’s school schedule, but I’d known hers. Mastered the façade of looking like I wasn’t as into her as I was. At least to her, since I was sure as hell everyone else knew how I’d felt about Ivy.

  I used to go out of my way to make sure that any knucklehead she’d dated didn’t spread rumors about her because Ivy wasn’t that kinda chick. She was the one most of the guys at our school wanted to fuck, but she was a good girl. One with rules and shit, which kept her protected from dumbasses wanting to date her. Even me.

  I considered myself a decent dude, but not good enough for someone like her. Someone who had standards too high for me to meet and a ladder of rules too tall for me to climb. But that didn’t stop a motha fucka like me from trying to reach up high and climb that tall ass ladder. Yet for some reason, her and I had never happened. Not even close.

  I think it was safe to say that folks had always thought we were secretly dating or something. Kids making up stories in their minds about the popular boy with the good girl like we were in some damn teen movie.

  I bet she didn’t even know that she was the first girl to ever turn me down for a date. The first one to ever write me a letter that explained how flattered she was, but try and convince me that she wasn’t my type. My type. The day I’d met Ivy was the day I’d realized exactly what my type was. And it hadn’t just been about her beauty, although to me, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever met. It was about her demeanor. The fact that she was cool as hell. The way she always talked to everyone in school regardless of their social status.

  I made sure that my brothers and I were the same way. Never bullying the socially awkward kids, but instead, making friends with them in hopes that others would follow suit. And it had worked. Made us more popular than I’d wanted us to be.

  And still, you couldn’t pull a chick like Ivy. More like, she hadn’t even given a motha fucka like me the time of day. I hadn’t thought about her in a while, but I had to admit, she was never far from my mind. Even after all this time.

  Then her intern randomly popped up at our shop, handing me her business card, and suddenly, it all made sense. This was my second chance. This was proof that it was time for me to go after my dream girl and prove to her that a man could change. Especially when he’d grown the hell up and realized that his teenage crush was still the most amazing woman he’d ever met.

  Then what the hell are you still doing in this loft? When Ivy first arrived, I’d been content to just keep on watching her. But she was here for a reason, and the sooner we addressed the reason for her visit, the sooner I could move onto other shit. Like trying to convince her that shit hadn’t changed and I was still feigning for her sexy ass like I had back in the day.

  I leaned over the banister, enjoying the anxious looks she shot Layla’s way the more I smirked. “Ivy Ashwood. In the flesh. After all these years.” She was wearing a black bomber jacket and a teal scarf, but I looked her up and down as if I could see past her outerwear from the loft. Wondering if her style had changed. If her shape had changed. If her back still indented perfectly before her nice, round ass came into view.

  “Ivy Ashwood.” I said her name again, although I shouldn’t have. She blinked her eyes, long. Slow. The movement making me wonder what she remembered from our time in high school, or if she’d pushed our history to the back of her mind. Which was easy to do considering our history was brief moments that I’d pieced together as some of the best times of my life. But like I’d said, her and I had never officially happened. So there was no telling what she remembered.

  I almost checked her out again, but caught myse
lf. Last thing I needed was to get hard from the sight of her—because with this woman, that was always the case. Scratch that. I could deal with the blue balls. Poison Ivy was in my shop, so the best thing to do was to go downstairs to view her up close and personal.

  IVY

  Theseus Hood. Theseus freaking Hood! I blinked my eyes a few times, hoping the person in the loft was just a figment of my imagination because my body couldn’t handle it if he was here. In the flesh. In the same city as I was. In the same tattoo shop I was scheduled to meet with about the video.

  He began making his way down the stairs, my heart beating overtime with each step because the closer he got, the sooner I had to stop drooling and act like I’d seen a good-looking man before.

  “Damn, he’s just as sexy as he was in high school,” Layla muttered. And she wasn’t lying. Height wise, he was about the same as I remembered. However, instead of having the build of a boy, he had the muscles of a grown ass man. Instead of a short, close-cropped fade, he had a tapered fade with curls at the crown that were pulled into a man bun. Instead of only having one tattoo, it was difficult finding any part of his visible body besides his face that wasn’t tatted.

  All I could do was give a weak ass, “Mm hmm,” to Layla as I watched, not being able to take my eyes away. He walked with confidence. Purpose. As if nobody could tell him nothing because he knew he was the shit even if he didn’t act big-headed.

  I’d never had a thing for light-skinned dudes. Especially since I was kinda toffee complected myself. I much preferred me some deep chocolate mocha instead of a caramel latte. But Theseus didn’t suffer from that pretty-boy syndrome like some of the other light-skinned dudes had back then. Yeah, him and his brothers had owned the school, but he’d always been humble. Nice. Too damn likeable without trying.

  When he reached us, he greeted Layla and gave her a hug, before setting his eyes on me. I expected him to lean in and hug me, too. Or maybe say something since I couldn’t have been the only one to feel the awkwardness swarming in the air. But just my luck, he remained quiet as hell. So being the nervous person I was whenever he was around, I felt a need to make an ass out of myself and fill the silence.

  “Um, are you … Do you know … We are … How are things?” I cleared my throat as Layla elbowed me in the arm. I gave her a help-a-sista-out look, but she flashed me back her signature I’d-rather-see-how-this-plays-out smile. Note to self: get a new best friend.

  Luckily for me, he took pity on us both when he said, “Nice to see you ladies after all these years.”

  There goes that voice of his again. Smooth. Deep. Velvety in a way that gave you all the tingles at the most inappropriate times and the most inconvenient of places. Like now, when I should have been focused on business, but all I could do was stare at his full beard and wonder how smooth his curls would feel between my legs. Or would they feel rough? And if they were rough, would I welcome the pain? I hadn’t been touched in so damn long, I wasn’t even sure I’d know how to act if he stripped me naked and opened my legs wide for him to get a good taste. Assuming he’d make it to the eighth date, of course.

  Per usual, my mind was thinking about some shit it shouldn’t—because, let’s face it, the man turned me into mush. Focus, Ivy! “Do you work at this shop?” I finally blurted out.

  “Something like that,” he said with a smirk. “We actually own it.”

  I scrunched my eyebrows together. “Who’s we?”

  “Look who it is,” someone said, as they walked through the front door.

  Before I could even turn my head to see who it was, Layla was squealing and heading toward the front door.

  “Oh my God,” she squealed. “Eros! I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “Good to see you, too, Layla.” He pulled her in for a hug, and had I been able to get my feet to move, I would have been right there with her. Eros was a year older than us and one of Theseus’s younger brothers. A bit of a golden boy, because everybody liked Eros and he was a little more clean-cut than his brothers.

  “Damn,” Ares said. “Wish I’d gotten that type of welcome.”

  Layla playfully swatted Ares, the youngest brother who was our age, on the shoulder. “Fool, I just saw you not too long ago at our class reunion.”

  He spread out his arms. “So, what that mean? I still want my damn hug.”

  Reluctantly, Layla walked over and gave Ares a quick hug as if she didn’t want to do it, but I knew she was faking it. They’d been playing that ‘we secretly don’t hate each other, but would never admit it’ game for longer than I could remember. I’d always thought they had a crush on each other, but both had seemed content to be friends.

  Of course they all own this shop. Theseus and his brothers owned Greek Gods Ink back in Detroit, and now that I thought about it, I’d heard rumors that they were looking to open shop in another city.

  Layla waved me over, and without even looking back, I felt Theseus right behind me. Trying to redeem myself from babbling before, I mustered up the little confidence I could and made sure I swished my hips extra sexy when I walked. I was hoping he watched me stroll and remembered that I was the chick he’d never got, but always wanted. Mind you, I hadn’t confirmed that he’d been into me besides that one time he’d asked me out, but I used to catch him watching me all of the time back then.

  Just to validate my point, I glanced his way when we joined the others and caught him staring again. I guess that hasn’t changed. And I refused to pretend like it didn’t make me smile and feel giddy inside. I couldn’t read his expression, but it still made me horny as hell to be here …with him. Will there ever be a time I see him and not think about letting him fuck me senseless? I mean, it just wasn’t fair for him to look so damn delicious when all he was doing was standing there wearing his dark ass jeans and his white ass tee, with his expensive ass Jordan’s, looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.

  Like, I seriously wasn’t sure I’d ever come across a man who got me hot and bothered like Theseus did. And he wasn’t the only Hood who looked good as hell and was cool as hell. It was every man in his family. Watching him stand next to his brothers right now was an experience in and of itself.

  Every neighborhood had them. Those group of guys who were extremely fine who every girl in school hoped would choose her to date, even if for a couple weeks. The guys who you knew were bad for you, but you wanted them anyway.

  Back in Detroit, the Hood boys ran our hometown, with Theseus, Eros, and Ares being in the center of it all since they were brothers who were close in age. But they had cousins, too … and those cousins were just as fine. True, there weren’t any more than a handful of them that were relationship material back in the day, but the ones who were, went fast. If a girl was lucky enough to snag one of the bad Hood boys, she snatched him up, even if there was no way he would ever commit to only her.

  Theseus, Eros, and Ares came from some good stock, and had I not grown up in Detroit, I never would have known that there were some families that were predominantly male. As in, besides the mamas and wives, they had very few female sisters or cousins. Wasn’t sure what was with those chromosome levels.

  However, some of the Hood boys didn’t have it easy. Some hadn’t grown up with father-figures. Others didn’t have mother-figures. A few had ended up in jail. It was something most of the town knew, but never talked about.

  Regardless, the Hood clan commanded respect in Detroit. Even if some of them had been doing illegal stuff back then, folks in the neighborhood protected their own.

  “Guess I should feel honored to be in the presence of a couple members of the Bomb Squad Beauties clique,” Eros said.

  I rolled my eyes. “We haven’t been called that since high school.”

  “Who you kiddin’,” Ares said. “Folks back home still call y’all that shit. Did you forget that show y’all put on at the reunion?”

  I shrugged. “It was just something to do.” It was true what he said. On the few times
I was able to make it back home, I was still hearing folks yell Bomb Squad when they ran into me at the local grocery store. Guess some things stay with you forever.

  When we were in high school, Layla and I had been on a dance team called The Hip Hop Beauties. On the team, they had a group of girls who were slightly better dancers than the rest. That group made up the battle squad, otherwise known as The Bomb Squad. Layla and I had made the team our freshman year, and to our surprise, we had made The Bomb Squad. Up until then, no freshman had ever made the battle team. By sophomore year, we were running the team, and some time during that year, kids started calling us Bomb Squad Beauties.

  Although the entire team was close back in the day, those of us on The Bomb Squad were extremely tight. Layla may be my best friend, but most of us were still friends today and living in cities throughout the United States. Which meant, there was a chance I always had someone to visit when I traveled. Case in point, Layla lived in Chicago and any project opportunity I got in Chicagoland, I took just so I could see my girl.

  “We were surprised as hell when we got the visit from your intern,” Eros said, breaking the conversation.

  “Yeah, we were. This nigga over here couldn’t wait for Ivy to get here,” Ares added, nodding his head at Theseus. “Had us over here deep cleaning and shit like we couldn’t hire a company to do it. Hell, he just told us we’re allowed to get food an hour ago.”

  I glanced at Theseus, expecting him to deny it, but instead, he just looked at me. Watching. Waiting to see how I would react. Oh, I wanted to react, but I wasn’t going to.

  He’d always been a bit of a mystery to me. A puzzle that I was dying to put together. As a freshman, I’d thought it was in my imagination that I used to catch him looking my way. I mean, what did I know at that age? I’d only had those middle school boyfriends up until then. And he was a junior when I first met him. One of the stars on the football team, although it had seemed like instead of being on the field, he would have rather been drawing something. And by drawing, I meant getting in trouble for doing graffiti on the side of a building.