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"I don't know," he smiles wide as he stares down at it. "I wanted something to remember this summer by."
Touched by this thoughtfulness, I almost forget that he has the nickname he gave me tattooed on his arm. Forever.
"I thought you weren't supposed to get anyone's name tattooed on your person," I frown. "It's supposed to doom a relationship or something."
"It's a nickname, Blondie. It's not like I got Ingrid branded across my ass."
"I would pay for you to have my name branded on your backside." I can't hold in the string of giggles that escape.
"I can always get it removed or tattooed over," he says quietly. "This summer is supposed to be fun. This," he holds his arm in front of my face, "is a joke. It's supposed to be funny."
I should probably tell him that I had a lightning bolt tattooed on my wrist in honor of him, but I don't owe anyone an explanation.
Which is also why I decide not to mention Cash's ill-timed snap. I didn't reply, so why bring it up?
We're in our blissful, happy, orgasmic bubble and I'm not ready to let go of the bottled-up lightning I'm squeezing in my hands.
Chapter 19
The Cash Snap
Mom and I are staked out in front of Queen Isla's fraternity house. Technically, it's an overcrowded apartment. But we're using code names. So, we chose 'fraternity house' to discreetly refer to my sister’s new home.
"You really think she's in there?" I whisper to Mom.
She zooms in on the window with her phone camera. "Hard to tell. The blinds are open and bodies keep walking by."
"There's no way she's living there with Frank the Fornicator—"
"Ingrid," Mom chastises me.
I ignore her and continue, "—and his gross, college-aged roomies who probably don't shower and spend their evenings gaming."
"Speaking of gross, college-aged roomies, are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Cash?"
I scrunch my nose, trying to figure out how she went from hypothetical un-showered gamers to clean-cut Cash Allred. "We broke up."
"And now you're sleeping with his best friend?" Mom asks pointedly.
I lick my lips. "I'm not sleeping with Wilder." Not yet, anyway.
"I'm not judging you," Mom holds up a hand. "I'm just trying to understand."
"Cash broke up with me," I repeat, "and he sort of broke up with Wilder, too. Now, Wilder and I are friends. We bonded over our mutual rejection."
"Rejection has a way of bringing people together. Have you heard from Cash?" Mom pries.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. I could tell Mom about the Cash snap. She'd be a good person to run it by because she has nothing to lose. Wilder, on the other hand, well, I'm afraid he'll remember all those times he told me he doesn't fuck his best friend's leftovers. Even after getting a tattoo of the nickname he affectionately calls me, I still don't know how he'll react when he finds out Cash messaged me.
Yeah, I should run it by Mom.
"He sent me a snap."
"What's a snap?" Mom tilts her head to the side.
"On Snapchat, you can send pictures and add messages to them. Once they're viewed, they're gone forever."
Mom scrunches her nose. "Sounds complicated. Why not just send a text? Or, better yet, pick up the phone."
