Page 15 of Flipping the Script

“What were you doing?” I asked, tipping the bottle back and taking a sip.

“What do you mean?”

“Before I came.” I motioned to the side of the house as the sunlight glinted off something metallic.

“Nothing.” He crossed his arms.

My eyes fell to his bicep without my permission. The last time I’d seen him in a tank top was years ago, and he hadn’t had as much ink then as he did now.

His tattoos were incredible, the images flowing into one another, almost like they’d been designed to look like one giant sleeve and not a collection of smaller tats.

Covering his bicep was a mishmash of black and white music imagery like music notes, a treble clef, and the lines from sheet music. Mixed in with them were vividly colored space-themed tats, like star clusters, planets, and swirls that could be galaxies or nebulas. His other arm was covered in nature pieces, everything from flowers to birds to vines, and geometric shapes and intricate patterns snaked across his upper chest. I’d only gotten a glimpse of his back piece when I’d followed him into the house, but the edges of what looked like giant wings and an intricate flame pattern peeked out from the edges of his tank top.

Did he have more ink on his sides now? His lower legs were still untouched, but I knew he had a few pieces on his thighs. Did he have more there too?

Why the hell was I wondering that at all? I had a few tattoos myself, and most of my friends were inked up, but it wasn’t like I had a thing for them.

I’d noticed at the party that his tattoos ended at his wrists, and his neck was also free from ink, making it possible to cover them up with a long-sleeved shirt.

Something about the contrast between seeing him at the party to today was making my brain itchy. He’d looked like a regular, buttoned up guy then. A brooding, emo-haired hottie, but still like any other guy our age who had an office job and a 401k.

Seeing him in sports shorts and a tank with all his ink on display, large black disc earrings that were made to look like gauges, and his hair messy and a bit fluffy instead of tamed with product was like looking at a completely different person.

“Nothing?” I tore my eyes from his arm and took another sip of water.

Fuck, he better not have caught me checking him out.

“Putting a grill together,” he said grudgingly.

“A grill?”

He shot me a glare. “Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“Nope.” I smirked and downed more of the water, not taking my eyes off his.

He met my gaze full-on, the challenge in them clear.

Apparently we were twelve again and about to have a staring contest.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I finished drinking from the bottle and lowered it. Just to fuck with him, I dragged my tongue over my lower lip.

His pupils dilated, and something that looked suspiciously like heat flashed in them.

What?

That couldn’t be right. Even if Sebastian was into guys, there was no way in hell he’d ever be attracted to me. He’d spentour school days making sure I knew just how much he disliked everything about me.

Which was fine because the feeling was mutual.

He broke eye contact and looked away, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Do you need help?” I offered, the words leaving my mouth before I was fully aware I was going to say them.

“What?” He blinked at me like I’d just asked him to recite pi to the twentieth decimal point.

“With the grill. Aren’t those usually a two-person job?”

He shrugged. “Usually, but I’ll manage.”

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