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"The boldness of them grabs my attention."
"Hmm."
"Don't hmm me."
"You do it all the time."
"Still."
She laughs. "You're a hypocrite. But I guess I'll forgive you." She sinks into the leather. Her voice gets earnest. "I do forgive you."
"Thanks." My shoulders relax. Then my back. My jaw. A wave of easiness floats through my body. I need her forgiveness. I need her friendship. Hell, I need a lot more than that, but it's all I'm gonna get.
Her voice perks. Back to teasing. "You're going to make it up to me."
"Am I?" Loose the shorts and the panties and spread your legs. I want to look at that soft pink cunt before you come on my face.
"You're going let me pick which dumb action movie we watch. Actually, it won't be dumb."
"The Hunger Games doesn't count as an action movie."
"Yes, it does. It has fight scenes. It has people killing each other. It even has explosions."
"Okay. But I get to pick the next one."
"I bet the plot will be incomprehensible."
I can help but chuckle. "Maybe."
She leans back against the couch. Crosses her legs. "You're too smart to enjoy that."
I turn toward her. Soak in the way her lips are turning upward, the brightness in her eyes, the softness in her shoulders. "Says who?"
"Me. Obviously." Her eyes spark.
It lights me up inside. "It's not the same for you. You're a writer. You see the strings."
Kaylee shakes her head. Her cheeks flush. "I'm not a writer. I write things sometimes. It's different."
"You write things. Doesn't that make you a writer?"
"No."
"No? I tattoo people. That makes me a tattoo artist."
"Well, what if you'd only done it once? Or only sometimes? If it was a hobby?"
"I'd still be a tattoo artist."
"It's different."
"How?"
"It just is."
"I hate to break it to you, but you're a writer. You're always scribbling in your notebook."
The last word makes her tense. Her shoulders go back to her ears. Her teeth sink into her lip.
