He let out a little laugh through his nose.
“This one is for my aunt.” I ran my fingers over the two elephants that wound around my forearm, the smaller one holding the bigger one’s tail. “She collected elephant things. After she died, I sketched this up, and Ronnie tattooed me. Now I can carry her around all the time. Elephants don’t forget.”
His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Pen.”
“It’s okay. Cancer fucking sucks,” I said with a small smile, not wanting to get into it. “This one is self-explanatory.” I held up my arm to expose the inside of my bicep where it said, Oh yes I can.
“What about this one?” He touched the Latin running down the back of my other arm.
“Veni, vidi, amavi. We came, we saw, we loved.”
His smile was back, and it sent a slow burn through my chest — it was the smallest of things, a firing of a few muscles that shot a hint of understanding at me and hit me deep. So of course I changed the subject again.
“Thinking about getting more?” I asked.
“I actually had another one on the books, but then I lost my job and moved out here before I could get it done.”
I perked up at that. “Really? What of?”
“A Japanese woodcut design of a wave, here.” He gestured to his bicep and shoulder that wasn’t inked.
“With the wave curling around your shoulder?”
He smirked. “Yeah.”
“Still have the design?”
“I do. Why?”
“Because I can do it for you,” I said, chipper and grinning. “Tomorrow. I’m off, remember?”
He laughed, and his cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah, but I can’t ask you to do that for me, and not on your day off.”
“You didn’t ask. I want to.” The thought of making my mark on his body sent a tingle through me I couldn’t ignore. I silently did the math to see if I had time to jump him again before I had to go. I didn’t.
He didn’t look convinced, staring at me like I was a quantum physics equation.
“I mean it. And I want to see you tomorrow. Meet me at the shop, and we’ll do your piece. Can I have it?”
“Are you sure, Penny?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He shook his head and swung his legs off the bed, making his way to his closet. I watched his butt like a creep without a single fuck to give. Then I watched his dick as he walked back.
What? It was a very pretty dick.
He handed the artwork over, his eyes twinkling.
“Thank you.” I stood, stepping into him until I was pressed against his chest. “Let me know what time works for you tomorrow, and I’ll be there.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his wound around my waist.
“I’ll see you then.” And with that little sentence, he kissed me like he was trying to make sure I never forgot him.
As if.
I was all warm and tingly again when he pulled away. He slapped my ass with a pop and stepped into Jersey pants before walking me to the door, leaving my body singing his name as it did every time we were together.
I felt like my feet were barely touching the ground as I walked the few blocks to the shop, daydreaming about Bodie’s body and his smile and his dimple.
He was right; things didn’t have to be complicated. I didn’t have to answer to him, and Ididn’t expect him to answer to me. Although I did find myself telling him where I’d be or what I’d be doing, and he seemed to do the same. It was just so easy, just the two of us.
Of course, we’d spent every minute we could together, though it didn’t feel unreasonable. We’d never spent the night together, but we’d spent late nights and full afternoons all tangled up with each other. I knew the amazing noises he made, knew what he liked, what he wanted from my body. I knew his laugh and his smile, knew his hands, knew every inch of his body. I’d spent over a week exploring it, and what a glorious week it had been.
I was struck for a moment that I hadn’t even considered being with anyone besides him since I met him. But the thought didn’t freak me out — how could I want something other than absolute perfection? What could possibly lure me away?
I was struck again when it crossed my mind that he could be seeing someone else, so struck that I nearly tripped over my own feet and hit the sidewalk.
Surely he felt like I did. I mean, we hadn’t discussed our relationship or defined anything. He’d said I didn’t owe him anything, including exclusivity.
The thought made me irrationally angry, so irrationally angry that I fantasized about hunting down an imaginary bitch who had tried to touch him and scratching her eyes out.
I frowned as I crossed the street.
It had been a very long time since I was jealous, particularly of a made-up thieving man-stealer.
This confused me on levels I wasn’t ready to admit existed.
So instead of admitting anything, I reminded myself that he had been with me daily. We’d had so much sex that there was no physical way he’d be able to have more.
At least I had that. The thought cheered me up.
I bounced into the coffee shop to grab goodies for everyone before heading to Tonic. I made the rounds once I got there, passing out everyone’s usual drinks along with a few lemon bars — they were the best in the city, I swear — stopping at Joel’s booth last. The Clash was playing over the speakers, and I smiled, thinking about kissing Bodie as a hundred people sang along with “Rock the Casbah” all around us.
Joel eyed me, smirking a little from behind his dark beard. “You okay?”
I smiled and leaned on the wall around his booth. “Peachy keen, jelly bean. I’m here for my interview with Annika.”
His eyes sparked at the mention of her name. “She’s upstairs in the control room getting everything ready.”
“You excited to start filming again?”
He shrugged. “You know how I feel about all that. But I’m glad Annika has something to do. Without an objective, she comes unglued. I think she reorganized every book I own, color-coded my closet, and rearranged my sock drawer twice. And that was just in the first week.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m glad she has a sweater to knit now, something to keep her busy.”
“Me too.”
“Hey, I wanted to run something by you. I was going to do some work on a friend of mine tomorrow, if it’s okay. You don’t need my booth, right?”
He shook his head. “You’re good. Who’s the friend?”
I couldn’t even play it cool; I found myself grinning. “Bodie.”
One of his brows rose. “The guy who was supposed to send you flowers but didn’t?”
I waved a hand, dismissing him. “No, I didn’t want him to send flowers, but if I get flowers, yes, I’d like them to be from him.”
He narrowed his eyes in concentration. “It’s like you’re trying to tell me something.”
I laughed. “Yes, that’s the guy.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, watching me.
“What?”
He shrugged and rearranged things on his desk. “Nothing. It’s just you’ve never brought a flowers-not-flowers guy around.”
“It’s no big deal. He was supposed to have work done in LA and moved here before he could. I’m not even drawing it.”