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"Then why are we getting tattoos?"
"Because," he grins, "I am—"
"My own," I finish for him. "Stop stealing my lines."
"It's a good one," he laughs.
While Travis works away on Wilder's arm, I decide now is a good time to tell him Jason and Jill will be out of town this weekend.
"My parents are going to be away for a few days," I announce.
"Really?" Wilder schools his features into a mask of indifference. I hate when he does that. Things would be so much easier if I could read what he's thinking on his face.
"Really," I reinforce.
"Are you going to throw a party, Blondie?"
I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "No."
"I could hook you up with a keg," he continues. Clueless. He's clueless.
"Nope," I subtly shake my head. "I was hoping you might stop by, though."
"For the party you aren't having?" He scoffs. "Why would I do that?"
"Honestly, are you really that dense?" I snap.
"What?"
"She's asking you to come over while her parents are gone for the weekend," Travis womansplains.
"Oh," the lightbulb clicks on for Wilder. "I didn't realize... uh...."
Travis shoots me a wink.
I place a hand on Wilder's forehead. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," he answers. "Why?"
"Because," I remove my hand, "you're unable to form coherent sentences."
"I didn't think you'd want to," his eyes widen as he omits a few words, "so soon."
"I want to," I press my lips together, hoping Travis doesn't realize we're talking about sex. But he probably does.
"Okay," Wilder says.
His tattoo takes a little longer than mine did. I can't make out what the letters are just yet, but I know they're red.
When Travis is finally done, Wilder holds his arm up. "What do you think?"
I cover my mouth with my hand. "You didn't."
"I did."
"But... you're... why?"
On Wilder's forearm is the word Blondie in red, block letters. Just like the logo for the newspaper comic strip with the same name.
