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“Oh, hush.” Lily squeezes another round of sunscreen onto my back and works her fingers over my other side.
“Some say kelp is the semen of the ocean.” I turn to get a good look at her face.
Lily blinks up at me. “Who’ssome?”
“Me.” I smile. “Right now.”
This time, her fingers attack my side. “You’re so—”
“Amazing? Handsome? Sexy?”
“Frustrating.”
Lily concludes her meticulous application and gives me a soft pat on the neck. I turn to face her again. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about any of my tattoos before.”
“I wanted to, but I thought it was against tattoo etiquette to ask someone what their tattoos mean.”
“Ask me.” I like that she’s wondered what the ink stands for, even if it took her this long to question me about it.
“Does the kelp mean anything?” Her voice is shy but curious.
“When Luca and I were growing up, we’d sword fight with kelp on the beach. It reminds me of him, of my childhood. My parents. It’s why I keep it so close to my heart.”
She watches me intently. “That’s touching. Is that where your brother gets his love for the ocean?”
“Yeah, I suppose. Luca got a career, and all I got was a semen tattoo,” I joke. Lily’s infectious laughter stumbles into me, making it impossible to resist joining.
“What do the other ones mean?” She runs her fingers across the airplane on my arm. “Is there a theme?”
“I got this one when I sold my first app.” I take her hand, tracing her finger from my bicep to the ink on my thigh. “This one was from when I snowboarded in Switzerland.” Her eyes follow the scattering of tattoos across my body, all in random designs from different artists around the world. “Each is a token from a time in my life I want to remember forever.”
“So do you mostly get them when you travel?”
“Not all of them. Like this frog was my childhood stuffy and I did it myself.” I point to a small stick-and-poke on my ankle. “This is my mom’s favorite flower, and this is the Thermos my dad took to work every day.”
Lily’s face lights up as I give her the tour. “Are you ever worried you aren’t going to like them in a few years? For someone who doesn’t favor commitment, this seems like a huge step.”
It’s strange talking to her about this, as though the conversation somehow means more than it ever has. I’ve had random hookups ask me what the ink means all the time, though no one cared to question me beyond the piece that caught their eye.
“I don’t change my mind easily. I may struggle with settling down in the personal sense, but commitments have never been an issue for me.” I shrug. “Each tattoo is like a journal on my skin. Just because a memory may sour doesn’t mean it didn’t get me to where I am now.”
Her head tips to one side, and her wispy ponytail swings behind her. “I like that.” She nods approvingly. I’ve never needed anyone to sign off on my tattoos, but Lily liking them makes me warm inside. “Does this summer warrant an entry in your tattoo journal?”
“I think so.”
“Maybe your app can be about tattoos or something,” Lily suggests with a sweet grin. It’s nice she cares enough to mention it, even if the reminder that my idea bank is empty sends a beat of worry into my chest.
“There’s a ton of high-profile artists in London. You may be onto something.”
“See, there’s another reason I stayed with you this summer. I can help you figure out the next big app idea. What would you do without me?”
The reality of the question isn’t something I want to consider because, truthfully, I don’t want to know what life will look like come September.
Lily leans back on her lounger, beads of sweat coating her skin. She arches in the same way she did during our movie session last night when I used my tongue to spell out our names over the sensitive swell of her clit.
Nico Navarro and Lily Rodin.
It has a good mouthfeel.
