“Love you, bye.” I hung up the phone.
Using the railing for leverage, I pulled myself up and stepped through the open window into my kitchen. Opening my phone, I typed in the numbers, double checking I’d copied it correctly, and then saved it. I’d text him tomorrow. He could wait one more day, although I didn’t put him past his veiled threat of turning up at the studio again.
I turned the faucet on, running my arm under the warm water, lathering it up with soap. The number stayed unchanged, still clear as day. I scrubbed again. And again.
Nothing.
How the fuck was I going to get this off? I couldn’t walk around forever with big black numbers scrawled across my arm, like the world’s stupidest tattoo. Or even the rest of the day. I was supposed to be going out tonight, and it was too warm to wear long sleeves.
I typed‘How to remove Sharpie from skin’ into Google and was provided with the following options - coconut oil, olive oil, toothpaste, and makeup remover.
I grabbed the coconut oil from the cupboard and slathered it across my arm, rubbing as hard as I could before wiping it with paper towel. The only way I knew some had removed was because the paper towel had black ink on it, but otherwise it looked no different.
This was ridiculous.
An hour later, I’d given up. My arm was almost rubbed raw from oil, toothpaste, and makeup remover, as well as face scrub and a brush. I could still make out a faint trace of his number, but hopefully to the untrained eye in a dark bar, no one would notice.
My phone buzzed with a text message.
Ashley: Meet you in an hour at the bar on the corner in the village?
I looked down at my arm. It would have to do.
Emerson: Perfect, see you in an hour.
Stripping off, I ran to the bathroom and jumped in the shower.
Ispotted Ashley, looking her usual perfectly put together self, and made my way through the packed crowd to her, pulling out a stool and sitting down. We were in our regular haunt, a cute little bar in Greenwich Village which never looked that exciting, but was always packed with people due to its excellent and reasonably priced cocktail selection.
She pushed a margarita toward me.
I picked it up, taking a long sip.
“Oh God, thank you.” I winced at the tart lime and heavy tequila. “This is good.”
“Yeah, they do the best ones in here.” She sipped hers. “So, what did you do with the rest of your afternoon? You look gorgeous.”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. Scrubbing my arm had taken so long I’d had very few spare minutes to actually get ready, giving me only enough time to throw on a navy, strapless bandage dress I’d found on my laundry pile, and some sparkly high-tops. My hair still hadn’t dried properly, because I’d foregone a full blow-out to put on makeup, so it was currently curling in a big, bushy wave down my back.
“Thank you. Not much; just walked home and hung out. Spoke to my best friend, Mallory.” I jolted forward as someone moved behind me. “Who’s coming out later?”
“Jessie, Rose, Finn, Mikey, and Jake. I think everyone’s had a pretty full-on week and needs to blow off a little steam.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I could definitely do with blowing off a lot of steam. “Where are we meeting them?”
“Jake’s meeting us at the bar, he has a late class, but I think the rest are coming here first.” She finished her margarita and signaled the waiter for another two, before eyeing me. “But they won’t be here for a while, which means there’s plenty of time for you to explain your behavior earlier, and why your arm is now red from scrubbing off whoever’s number that was.”
I sighed. “Okay, but can you keep it between us?”
She nodded, her eyes open wide, clearly expecting a big piece of gossip, which, to her, this would be.
“I’m serious, Ash. I don’t want anyone knowing about this until I figure it out myself.”
Although I felt much better having spoken to Mallory, I was slightly apprehensive of people knowing about Drew when nothing had even happened yet, especially as Ashley had a tendency to get wildly overexcited about everything. Her reaction to the boys being in the class this morning was case in point.
“Okay, jeez,” she agreed as she rolled her eyes at me. “I’m not going to say anything.”
I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. “Do you remember I told you that last year my friends and I went to Vegas and I hooked up with that hot guy?”
