Page 61 of Revved up & Ready

She’s not dumb.“Was there someone who made you feel bad because of that?” I ask, avoiding her ex’s name.

Her chest lifts on a sad laugh. “Yup, so I started painting my nails like this.” She holds her hands up closer so I can see.

“Pink and purple?” I ask.

“Lavender, forL, or Left,” she wiggles her left fingers. “And rose, forR, or Right,” she says, wiggling her right. “Sometimes I do rose gold on the right if I’m feeling fancy.”

“That’sclever,” I say, rubbing my thumb over the smooth polish of herrosehand. “You don’t have to do it anymore if you don’t want. I doubt anyone in your life now would give you a hard time for makingLswith your fingers.” The fact that her exdidhas my blood boiling.

“It works pretty well, actually,” she says, “and I like having a signature thing like that. Maybe someday I’ll getLandRtattoos instead.”

“Or you could just use my tattoos,” I say, tucking her into my side and bringing my hands out in front of us. “There’s already the R frombraaapon my right hand.”

“Ooh,” she giggles, tapping the lightning bolts tattooed on the back of my left hand. “Lfor lightning. Too bad it only works when we’re facing the same way.”

“You can always come sit in my lap when you need to check them,” I offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She blushes, looking down.

She stares at the text on her shirt for a second before leaning forward and scanning my body again. “Do you have aRace Nakedtattoo anywhere?”

“None you can find with my pants on.”

Her eyes go wide as her hands go to her mouth. “Is it on your ass?” she whispers through her fingers.

“Not quite,” I say, enjoying the hell out of her bashful reaction. “You want to see it?”

A naughty smile curves her lips. “I do.”

All she asked to see is the tattoo, so I fold the blanket to cover my lap, but not the side of my leg before sliding my pants down to expose the tattoo. On the outside of my right leg, all the way at the top of my thigh, almost to my hip, there’s a pin-up girl wearing aRace Nakedt-shirt.

“She’s so pretty,” Sadie gasps, reaching out to trace the lines with her fingertips, but pulling her hand back at the last second. “I’m sorry. That feels more personal. Is it okay if—”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You can touch me.” I leave out the“anywhere and anyway you want”half of that sentence, but the thought ricochets around my mind as she traces the lines of the tattoo—pointed toes, shapely legs, cheeky shorts, half-moon shapes of the imaginary woman’s breasts that peak out under the pink t-shirt,Race Nakedlettering, dimpled cheeks, and finally over the blonde space buns.

“But the girl in the video had black hair,” Sadie says, breaking the meditative way I’d focused on her touch.

“It’s not supposed to be the girl from the video,” I say, surprised she remembers.

“But that’s pretty much what she was wearing. Only her shirt didn’t sayRace Nakedof course because that hadn’t happened yet.”

I can’t remember the last time I explained this tattoo to anyone, and I know I’ve never admitted the next part. “The reference photo I used was actually of a girl who dressed upasthe girl from the video for Halloween that year. She’d made a shirt that saidShow Me Your Willie, but I likedRace Nakedbetter for the tattoo.”

Sadie’s face goes blank, swallowing thickly as she stares at the pin-up on my thigh. “Was she a friend of yours?” she asks.

“Never met her,” I say, wondering if the photo is still taped on the wall in the back of my trailer. “She tagged me online. A lot of people had costumes based on the video that year.”

“She was blonde, and she had a pinkShow Me Your Willieshirt?” she asks.

My eyes narrow. I know I just told her those exact details. “Yeah, if I remember correctly, it was wet, too. She was holding two red plastic cups like the girl in the video. Maybe she spilled one.”

She tilts her head, brow furrowed, glancing back and forth between the tattoo and me.

After she opens and closes her mouth a few times without saying anything, I ask, “You alright?” as I pull my pants back up.

“Yeah,” she says, drawing the single syllable out until it sounds like a question more than an answer. She returns to her place next to me at the head of the bed and presses herself back in under my arm.

Trying to figure out what’s just come over her, I search her face and find her eyes dropping to my lips.She wants me to kiss her.I amdyingto kiss her. She’s in my bed, snuggled in under my arm, watching me—and I am struggling to find a reason not to.

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