Our Secret Summer(34)

Annika doesn’t have this problem because she never got her tattoo. Well, technically she did.

“It’s there, see it?” She leans over the bar, toward Thalia. We’re gathered near her station before our shift to show off our ink.

Annika is referring to the two tiny dots the tattoo artist managed just beneath her clavicle before Annika promptly passed out in a cold sweat on his table. We spent the rest of her appointment fanning her face and helping her eat some crackers until we were sure we could get her home.

Thalia squints, trying to discern what Annika’s talking about. “Those freckles?”

Simone and I barely restrain our laughs.

Annika scowls. “They’re not freckles. It’s my tattoo.”

Thalia nods and smiles, throwing her a bone. Among us, she’s still sporting the most ink. In her uniform, you can barely see the tattoo that loops up her neck, but when she wore her bikini at the beach the other day, I noticed that it continues down her side as well—a big floral piece with intricate details and a lot of shading. I can’t imagine how long it took.

“Any pain so far?” she asks me.

I smile. “None now that it’s done. I kept it covered for the first twenty-four hours as instructed. I only covered it again just before my shift to be on the safe side.”

She nods as Hugo calls out for us to gather for a pre-shift meeting, and from that moment until the following Saturday afternoon, my life is a blur. For almost a week, I work and sleep and hang out with Annika and Simone. We study Winnie’s list, strategizing how to go about checking off certain items.

We’re in our pajamas at Simone’s and my apartment, having a lazy Saturday morning, poring over the list, deciding if we’re expected to “go to a crazy dance party”—maybe we should make sure we don’t have work the next day—and when we can get out to “Hippy Market Punta Arabí” since it’s only open for shopping on Wednesdays.

When we get to “fall in love” and “wild sex,” the energy in the room changes. I try to gloss over those items, but my friends aren’t having it. Finally Annika crosses her arms like a menace.

“We want details about Cristiano and we won’t rest until we get them,” Annika demands.

Simone copies her. “Yeah. Spill.”

I try to close Winnie’s journal, symbolizing a closure of the topic in general, but Simone yanks it out of my hands. “Tell us or the journal gets it.”

She gestures like she’s going to toss it over our apartment balcony.

I arch a brow, challenging her. “You’re going to throw Winnie’s journal down seven stories? Throw the very last thing I have that belonged to my sister?”

Simone’s face breaks and she lowers the journal, but Annika protests. “Don’t buy it, Simone! She’s playing on your emotions!”

Simone looks at me in shock, but I just shrug. I have all of Winnie’s stuff at home—boxes and boxes of it. I have a copy of that journal as well. I wasn’t going to take any chances that I’d lose it during my travels.

“Are you and Cristiano old friends or something?” Annika asks, eyeing me with careful attention. “I don’t understand how you seem to know each other.”

“It’s our families that know each other,” I reply tiredly.

Simone’s eyes widen. “How so? How’s that even possible? Aren’t you from California?”

“Yes, but my grandmother grew up in Spain and so did Cristiano’s. They knew each other.” With that, I stand and yank the journal out of Simone’s hand. “That’s the full story. Cristiano thinks it’s his duty to watch out for me since our grandmothers were old friends. I’ve told him not to worry about it, and now… you’re all caught up. I’m going to get ready for work.”

They go quiet behind me and I assume they buy my line that there’s nothing more between me and Cristiano.

So why don’t I buy it?





Chapter Eleven


Isabel


I take extra care in Aura’s locker room for no reason at all except that Cristiano hasn’t been at the club since last weekend and he’ll eventually have to make another appearance. Tonight would be a good night for him to be here. We have another famous DJ playing a set and it’s going to be as crowded as ever.

“Want me to sort your hair out?” Simone asks once she’s finished applying her own makeup. She’s already dressed and done up. Her pixie cut sweetly frames her features. Her eye shadow plays up her round eyes.

I hold up my hands in a plea. “Would you? Do you have time?”

I wasn’t going to ask her because I didn’t want to make her rush.

“Yeah, I’m getting really fast at it. Shouldn’t take me but a minute.”

She watches me sweep on my mascara while she waits for her curling iron to heat up.

“Going all out with the makeup, huh? Trying to impress someone?”

“Simone.”

She smiles to herself and picks up the first section of my hair she’ll curl into soft waves. “I just think you’re not being totally honest about the situation. You haven’t even said whether you fancy him. How could you not?”

I look at my reflection in the mirror, staring at my green eyes set off by my shimmery makeup. Isn’t it obvious?