“One of my favorites,” I say and reach for another cider.
Liam grabs it from the ice chest before I can and flips the tab for me. It’s such a mundane, thoughtful gesture. He does those a lot, without a second thought as long as it’s helping me somehow.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t meet when we were teenagers,” he jokes. “It’s giving ‘Girl All The Bad Guys Want.’”
He’s referring to the Bowling for Soup song.
Snickering, I shrug, playing coy. “You definitely would have gotten me in a lot more trouble.”
“Something tells me you don’t mind trouble,” he murmurs and leans closer to me. “And it would have been so fucking fun.”
I shake my head at him, but I’m biting back my smile. Despite everything that I’ve gone through, I wouldn’t change anything—with the exception of wishing our dad was alive. I’ve learned to believe that everything happens for a reason. But it’s fun to imagine what it would have been like to meet teenage Liam instead of Stefan.
Young, wild, carefree.
That’s the only way to describe the fantasy.
“And this one?” I ask, pointing at the devil horns on his rotator cuff.
He turns his arm, and my finger glides along his skin until I’m touching a Capricorn glyph on his inner bicep.
“I’m a Capricorn. When my friends and I went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras for spring break, a psychic told me that the Devil card represents Capricorns in tarot.” He shrugs. “I thought it was cool, so I got the horns tattooed later that night. I got the glyph for a Friday the 13th deal.”
Pointing through a few more, he tells me the story behind each of them—all random memories or impulsive moments. The sailboat he got when he was nineteen after getting his sailing license. The Atlas moth was another flash tattoo, along with the dice and band-aid above his elbow. The stamp with a strawberry plant is a design he saw at his usual shop and liked enough to get that day. Some of the others, like the Saturn and anatomical heart, were planned ahead of time.
“I call it my ‘fuck-up’ sleeve,” he says.
A sharp laugh bursts out of me. “What? Really?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Some of them are good quality, others aren’t.” That’s true. There are a few spots where the linework has blown out, like on the dove and bandaid. It appears to be more from inexperienced hands rather than untalented ones, though. “There’s no pressure. I get whatever feels right at that time. Every other piece was thoroughly planned and thought out.”
He means the floral sleeve on his left arm, a snake on his right leg, and a ring of flames above his left knee.
“And the flowers, they’re for…?” I let the question trail off, even though I have some guesses.
“My mom and sisters,” he answers. “My mom hated tattoos until I started that sleeve.”
I smile into another bite of bread. “Hard to hate something so sentimental. Even for my icy heart.”
He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Guarded isn’tthe same as icy.”
Lucas calls him before I can even process his words, asking for Liam’s recounting of some other trouble they found themselves in as teenagers. His previous words linger for the rest of the night, leaving a similar sensation to the heavy waves we found ourselves in earlier. Liam has this peculiar talent to fade out the noise around us, bringing me back from the silent anxiety that always goes unnoticed.
Maybe Liam doesn’t even realize it’s there either, simmering under the weight of my own baggage, plus everything I choose to carry for my mom and siblings. His presence is somehow enough to calm me, and sometimes, I even feel like maybe I can let go of control. Just for a few seconds.
Chapter Twelve
Calypso
Leaning across the table, I look at the blueprints of Pippa’s studio laid out. Liam asked me to have lunch, hoping I could help him plan the best approach when it comes to renovating the studio.
He came in yesterday morning, like usual, but the subtle pink that colored his cheeks when he asked for my help gave away his nerves. He wasn’t hesitant or patronizing, just shy. Why is that so fucking cute? Especially on this big, sexy guy?
Lucky for him, I know Pippa and her schedule like the back of my hand. She has followed the same routine since before I started dance lessons at nine years old. She’s meticulous and there’s definitely a correct course of action here… I just haven’t figured it out yet.
Even though I’ve been in the studio thousands of times, looking at it as a blueprint is very different. I’m less familiar with the offices and storage areas. Those are less important in the grand scheme of practices.
My half-eaten burger and his empty plate—previously a buffalo chicken wrap—sit forgotten nearby while I sip on my third iced tea. We’ve had lunch together every day since Daisy’s birthday, plus he’s still visiting every morning for anew coffee and pastry combination. My entire family loves him now too, so we’ve had dinner with my brothers as well as with Grady and Vivi at Lucas’s house this week.
