“That’s why you broke up?”
She shrugs, her smile turning slightly sour as she goes back to her sketch. “Kind of. Her biggest problem is I’m pansexual, and she couldn’t stand it.”
I frown. “Why would that matter if you’re with her?”
“Exactly.” She gestures widely at that. “I was with her, so it shouldn’t have mattered. But she was also really possessive, which I just can’t take. I had a boyfriend like that once too. They couldn’t understand—just because I’m open to being with someone, regardless of their gender or identity—if I’m in a relationship, they’re who I want.”
“That’s pretty shitty.”
She doesn’t disagree. “Yeah. It was. I really cared about her, but the jealousy thing is a hard no for me.”
“Yeah,” I say dumbly because all I could think about over the past month is whether anyone else had their hands or lips on Grayson. But I know I have zero claim to him. He isn’t mine, and he’s free to be with anyone he wants.
“There’s that broody look again.”
I clear my throat and try to break out of my thoughts. “I just had to break up with my . . .” I laugh humorlessly and shake my head. “I guess we didn’t really breakup, and I don’t even really know what he was to me.”
“Still sucks though,” she offers.
“Yeah it does. I wasn’t even sure I was sexual at all until I met him, and then . . .”
Her eyes brighten when she listens to me. “Then nothing but fire, huh?”
I laugh, surprised at how comfortable I am with her. “Yeah. Totally.” I lean back in my chair. “Now, I don’t think I’ll ever find that again.” Not that I even want to.
“You might.” She looks over her shoulder and then back at me. “It’s pretty dead, and I need practice. How about you let me use that body of yours?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re talking about ink, right?”
She laughs and stands up. “Yup.”
I agree, and when I go home later that night, I’m sporting a brand-new watercolor tattoo that, of course, reminds me of Grayson because every fucking thing does. The bold colors look like his old drawings. My inner bicep is covered in ink splatter with different vibrant colors.
I remove my shirt and sit down on my bed, leaning back against the headboard before video-calling Grayson. I can’t get him off my mind, so why fight it? It’s late, though, so I know he might not answer.
On the second ring, he comes into view, his hair sticking up all over the place, and I see he’s also shirtless, even though it’s pretty dark in the room. “Rhett.” He was definitely asleep, his voice full of gravel.
“Hey. Sorry I woke you.”
He flips on a light, his sculpted chest and abs on full display as he sits up in bed and yawns, still holding the phone. “I was dreaming about you.”
He shoots me a shy grin that makes my chest pull tight with a deep ache. “I got a tattoo today.”
He looks amused at my subject change. “Yeah? Let me see.”
I lift my arm and can’t help but flex a little as I show it off. He whistles, and I tuck my arm behind my head, leaning back. “I like it. It’s beautiful. Who’s the artist?”
“This new chick at the shop.” The frown on his handsome face is almost immediate, but he tries to hide it.
“Oh. That’s cool.”
“Yeah. She just broke up with her girlfriend, so we have a broody thing in common. Her words.”
“She did well.” He grins, looking relieved now that he’s heard the word girlfriend, so I fuck with him a little more.
“Yeah, we talked a lot. Apparently, she’s pansexual.” His smile drops again, and I shake my head at him. “You know we’re on a video-chat, right? I can see your face.”
“Well, fuck,” he groans and leans his head back.
“I’m not into her, Grayson.” And I’m not. Not at all. We have some things in common, but I’m pretty sure my heart is stuck on Grayson.
His eyes meet the camera’s again. “I have no right to you. You can be into whoever you want.”
His voice is sad, and I can’t help but ask, “What about you. You into anyone?”
He laughs at me. “Video-chat, remember? You’re looking pretty broody there, Rhett.”
I raise my middle finger behind my head and make sure he can see it with the camera angle. He only laughs.
He shakes his head, a sad smile on his beautiful, full lips. “I barely have time to sleep, let alone find someone to get into.”
I laugh at his double meaning, which was exactly his intention. “I should let you get back to sleep. I just wanted you to see the new ink.”
“Thanks. I love it. Very bold.”
I grin and don’t say the words I’m thinking.
I don’t tell him I got it for him.
Although, I’m pretty sure he already knows.
FORTY-THREE
I hate college.
Correction. I hate this particular college. I’m busy all the time. Always trying to keep up with courses I have no interest in, and I fight to stay awake in every single class.
Including the one I’m sitting in right now.
Finance.
Yawn.
I’m sure this subject is enthralling to some of my classmates. Looking around, I see some of these fuckers are actually foaming at the mouth as they listen to the professor lecture on billionaires and investments they made a killing on. But not me.
I smile as I look down at my phone where I took a picture of what I drew last night. It’s rough. All I had was a box of colored pencils I found at the bookstore on campus, but I like it.
It’s the cabin and the lake, with ridiculously bright colors for the trees and the blue water. It’s not lifelike. More abstract. It makes me yearn for that time over the summer. I want it back.
I sent the picture to Rhett this morning—not letting myself overthink it. But I imagine he’s at work. Probably with the super-talented, awesome pan chick he’ll fall for soon.
The thought makes my gut twist with bitterness.
She gave him a tattoo.
A beautiful, bold ink-splatter tattoo on his flesh. Skin I want to lick. Skin I already know the taste of but want more. So much more.
My phone lights up but doesn’t make a noise since it’s muted for class. I can’t believe my eyes when I see the sketch he sent back. It’s a charcoal sketch, the exact same scene in perfect contrast to the one I sent him, and it makes my dumbass heart flutter in my chest.
I text him quickly, trying to keep my phone in my lap. But no one really gives a damn anyway in this big lecture hall.
Me: Have you been there since the summer?
I’m pretty sure he would have told me if he had.
Rhett: No. I don’t think it would be right to go without you.
I miss him. I hate how much I miss him. Why didn’t I just tell him that I’m in love with him and I want to find a way to make it work?
Why?
Because I’m a chickenshit.
Me: Maybe for fall break?
I can see the three dots of him typing something. Then it stops and then starts again.
Rhett: Yeah. Maybe.
It’s not a no.
Rhett: I have to go. Talk later?