“What? It’s not my fault that my sister is never here.” He sighed, resting an arm over the back of the couch, angling to face me. I caught myself staring at the flex of his arm and the way his T-shirt caught on the ridge of his muscle.
“She’s with her boyfriend, isn’t she?”
I blink, tearing my gaze away from where I was staring and glance back at his face. He’s smirking. Dammit.
“Huh? What? Boyfriend?” I scrambled as my face burned with embarrassment that he caught me staring at him.
Then, his question hit me.
“Yeah,” he continued, still casually lounging on the couch. “She admitted she’s got a boyfriend at Christmas, but no one has met him yet.”
Frick. Micayla! I wish she would have warned me that she spilled she was dating someone. She and Tanner both knew that I was tutoring him and knew I’d be with him enough for him to ask such a question. “Um, she’s keeping it kind of quiet.”
Lincoln looked at me with confusion. “You don’t even know who he is?”
I bit my lip and backed away toward my room. “Eh, uh, you know how you react to boyfriends, she’s not ready to share.”
“So you do know who it is,” he accused, looking at me with a look I wasn’t sure how to decipher.
“It’s not my business,” I finally said, going into my room and slamming the door a little too hard.
Gah, I’m not a good liar. I can’t lie. I’m terrible at it, and while that may seem like a good quality to have, it’s really more of a pain in the ass than anything.
I stripped off my day clothes and found the ones I liked for lounging. It was too damn hot in here for leggings, so I threw on some shorts, a tank, and a cardigan sweater that was basically a blanket.
Grabbing my book, I made my way back out to the living room to see Lincoln still there, contemplating something. I hoped he didn’t bring up Mick again. I didn’t want to betray either of their trust, and I felt stuck in this situation.
Lincoln looked at me when I came out and watched me as I made my way to the couch. I was self-conscious being in shorts that showed off legs I rarely wanted to show off, but I wanted to be comfortable in my own place.
Plus, I had nothing to prove to Lincoln Ellis.
“That’s fucking cool.” He nodded to my left thigh, where a dagger was tattooed there. Intricate lines were carved into the blade of the dagger, and there were flowers blooming around it. It was from one of my favorite books.
“Thanks,” I said, slipping into my spot on the couch and picking up in my book where I left off.
For a few moments, he was silent, and I peeked up over my book and saw him studying my legs. It’s my fault for decorating them.
“I had no idea you had so many tattoos,” he said, his finger brushing over the top of my foot. I held my breath at the contact and willed myself not to move. His eyes were still on my legs as I sat there, letting him get his fill, letting him look at every piece of art that meant something to me.
He didn’t know it, but what he was seeing was the equivalent of reading my diary.
Few people knew I had so many, but when one of your best friends was a tattoo artist and you tended to follow your impulsive desires, it was too easy to get her to give me one whenever I wanted it.
“So, which one is from your book?” he asked, placing his hand on top of my foot and letting it rest there casually.
You would think his hand was elsewhere with the way my body was reacting to his touch.
“I don’t have one from my book,” I admitted, placing my bookmark on my page. “They’re from other books.”
“What meanings do they have? Just favorite parts in them or what?” He didn’t ask with any hint of meanness behind his words. He was genuinely interested in the answer.
Is this what it was like to not be Lincoln Ellis’s enemy?
I shrugged my shoulders, feeling exposed, but answered, “Favorite quotes or phrases, images that show certain parts of books that I fell in love with.”
“Do you have all the tattoos you want?”
I bit my lip and angled my head. “No. I want more. It’s like…therapy.”