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“I smell buttery delicious—” Summer’s sing-song cheer cuts off when her eyes land on me. She stands in the middle of the room, seeming slightly dazed.
I glance down at the bowl I’m holding, then look behind me, searching for what has her so shocked.
“Your tattoos are dragons,” she whispers, taking a step toward me, and I realize what’s set her off balance.
“Yeah. You’ve never seen them?”
She shrugs. “I know you have tattoos, but I’ve never had the chance to study them before. It’s frowned upon to stare at library patrons.” Summer’s regained her teasing manner as she approaches me, her gaze trailing over my ink.
I imagine her fingers taking the same path.
“How many do you have?” She circles behind me, and I feel suddenly vulnerable with her focus trained on me but being unable to see her.
After a quick mental count, I answer. “Ten.”
“Wow. And ouch. Are they all so different from each other?” Summer appears on my other side, examining a dragon that winds around my right bicep to my forearm, done in traditional style with thick lines and bold colors.
“Yeah. I got kind of addicted a few years back. Found the best artists in the city. Asked each one to design a dragon in whatever style they wanted.”
“And they cover…” She trails off, and a charming blush creeps up her neck, infusing her cheeks.
A cocky smile pushes at my mouth. Summer is thinking about my body, and it’s obviously affecting her.
“Rough estimate. Eighty-five percent of my skin is covered.”
“Eighty-five?” Summer’s eyes drop to my covered torso, then to my exposed calves, then creep up to right around my waistline before flying back up to my face.
“Yes,” I say.
And as I watch, a little shiver quivers over her.
She likes my ink. I’d bet money on it.
Good. One more thing I can use to tempt her into saying yes to me.
“Movies!” She practically shouts the word, whirling away from me to stare at the screen. “What are we watching?”
“You sure you don’t want a say?”
“Your birthday, your choice. So what’s it going to be?”
I slide a disk into the DVD player, and a beautifully familiar instrumental blares from the speakers.
“We’re taking a trip to Mordor! Perfect slumber party binge choice,” Summer announces as she crawls onto my bed. I watch her gather the few pillows I have, plumping them and arranging an almost nest-like situation before settling herself among the mass.
“I would like to preemptively apologize for the amount of wistful sighing that’s likely to occur whenever Legolas is on the screen,” she announces.
“You’re into pretty boys?” My voice comes out in a more surly grumble than I intended as I climb onto the mattress beside her, propping my back against the wall. But can I blame her? I had a huge crush on the guy, too.
“The heart wants what the heart wants. And mine wants an elf-man with badass archery skills.” Her fingers pluck a few kernels of popcorn from the bowl in my lap, and she hums happily while chewing them.
Silently, I congratulate myself. Earlier today, Summer was so miserable she ended up sobbing in her office. Now she’s made herself comfortable in my bed while bantering about crushes and making content eating noises. For most of the human population, I would be the worst possible person to bring their sorrows to. But for Summer Pierce, turns out I’m exactly what she needs.
Now it’s my job to convince her of it.
Chapter Nineteen
SUMMER
