8 Chapter 8

Even though I’m shaking, my mind firing in God knows how many directions, I realize something is missing. “Did you get a ring for yourself?” I scan the ground but don’t see anything.

“Uh, not exactly. Well, not yet.”

I look up at him in confusion. This only increases when Tank raises his T-shirt and pulls it over his head. Instantly my eyes take in his cobblestone abs, sweep up to his firm pecs and… “Oh, my, God!” Tank’s left nipple has a metal barbell through it.

“Got it done in New York,” Tank admits.

I reach out to touch it but he stays my hand.

“Be gentle. It still hurts!”

My gaze moves between Tank’s left tit and his face. “Why? I mean you’re…” I know how afraid he is of needles.

“I thought about getting a tattoo but then figured this would be quicker.” He winces. “It might have been, but it hurt like a motherfucker. The guys had to hold me down while the tattoo guy did it.”

“Why?” I ask again.