The Angel Prospect (IRISH TATTOOIST NOVELLA)

2

Um america yall really arent ok huh. your country is just a fat shitshow. 

also does anyone see the irony in Pewdiepie (a facist, racist cunt) making a video about cancelling James Charles????

I don't trust white youtubers lmao

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It was cold on the morning Ringer was meant to get here. I stubbed out a cigarette on the concrete as we waited at the bus station, Corin folding her arms tightly over herself. 

I watched her eyes dart everywhere, the familiar shadow of remembrance slipping over her face.  Ringer wasn't due for another twenty minutes too. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and clicked the contact named Asshole.  The phone rang for a few moments before the man in question picked up. 

"What?"

My gaze flicked to Corin, who was steadily looking colder - and not in the temperature sense. 

"Come pick up Cor. We're at the bus station."

Ripper grunted and hung up immediately, no doubt leaving whatever club business he was on instantly. I walked to Corin and came to her side, careful not to touch her. Her emerald eyes jumped to me, a little flinch that she tried to hide. I feigned annoyance, gesturing to my phone. 

"Ripper's coming to pick you up, said something about needing your help." 

She opened her mouth to retort, but I stopped her with a smile. 

"I'll take care of Ringer Mama Bear. He'll be 'right." 

A knowing look passed through her eyes but she nodded her assent. A rumble was heard behind me and her gaze went to the man no doubt riding towards her. 

"Thank you Seamus." 

Her voice was a bit smaller than usual and I fought the frown that wanted to arise. She placed a hand on my shoulder, letting her touch say what words couldn't, before hopping on the back of Ripper's bike, both of them speeding off to wherever they went when Corin was feeling...cold. 

I watched them leave before sitting down on the curb, flipping my sunglasses down and cooling the worry that pooled in my stomach. Right now, I had to worry about the new blood.  

Ringer. No one but Corin knew why he was coming down here, not even Hugh. Hugh had wondered, but Corin just shut him up with that be-silent look of hers and continued cooking, knowing her father would give in to pretty much anything she wanted. To be fucking honest, everyone in this club and in Viper's would give anything to her. It was funny, watching her wrap men around her little finger.  

A bus pulled up to the station, bringing in fumes and a small amount of people that were either coming home or coming for a visit. I stood, watching for the head of brown hair that would be indicative of Ringer actually being here. A booted foot came down off the bus, followed by the long, lean body of a teenager still filling out. A leather cut was casually slung over one shoulder and Ringer showed himself. Curls of light brown hair dusted his ears and he flipped his sunglasses up onto his head, ambly jumping down and grabbing his bag from the bus driver. 

I stared at him, something pit-pattering in my chest. 

He looked around, showcasing a strong yet gentle jaw, no doubt looking for Corin's familiar face. I walked forward and lifted a hand, catching his attention easily since I was the only guy with leather on in a few miles radius. 

He strode forward, hand gripping the duffle bag at the side. As soon as he came close, my throat closed up. 

Was a guy meant to be this...pretty?