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"And?"
"Why me over her?"
"I told you, sunshine. I like you. It's that simple."
"You're about to graduate."
"You will next year."
"But you're… you're leaving."
He shakes his head. "Not going anywhere."
"Where will you be?"
"Ryan is gonna get me a gig as an apprentice."
"Yeah?" I bite back my enthusiasm. Dean's older brother is a tattoo artist. It's the coolest thing ever.
"Yeah." He nods. "Just got this one." He pulls his shirt up his torso, showing off inches of taut abs.
He pulls it higher.
All the way to his side.
He turns to show off a tattoo on his ribs—the state of California, adorned with grey and red roses.
"How much did that hurt?" I ask.
"Like a bitch."
"Guys usually say it doesn't hurt."
"Liars."
"Can I?"
"Of course."
My fingers go to his skin. It's soft, but he's bone and muscle beneath it.
God, the feel of him against my fingertips…
My knees knock together.
"Didn't think you were the ink type," he says.
Words dissolve on my tongue. He's so close. And so undressed. And so hot.
My hand knows what it wants.
It traces his ink again and again.
I look up at him. He's so tall. I'm short, yeah, but he's on some other plane of height.
"Can you keep a secret?" I ask.
He pulls an imaginary zipper over his lips in a my lips are sealed gesture.
