Page 104 of Play Me
Audrey: Oh, wow!
Gianna: And I thought you didn’t listen to a thing I said. I stand corrected.
Audrey: How do you feel, Astrid?
Gianna: Hopefully, she feels sore and used. What kind of a question is that?
Audrey: I’m trying to check on her emotions.
Gianna: Don’t ruin this for her, Auddie.
I giggle as Gray settles next to me on his side, reading their messages. “I don’t know what to say about them.”
“They’re a good balance, I think. Good and bad.”
“You can say that again.”
Gianna: Ignore us. Go get you some dick, babe.
Audrey: Enjoy yourself. Call me when you get home.
Gianna: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU.
I click the button on the side of my phone and drop it beside me.
Gray’s fingers skim beneath my shirt, drifting across my stomach and over my hips. It’s as relaxing as it is intoxicating. I listen to him breathe and let my eyes flutter closed.
“Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” he says.
I hum, trying to determine what kind of fact he wants to know.A historical fact, like my birth year? Does he want to know how I voted in the last election? Or does he want to know something random and pointless?
“Okay,” I say, choosing the latter. “I don’t have any tattoos.”
“Is there a reason, or you just haven’t gotten one?”
“There’s never been something that I feel strongly enough about to want it on my skin forever. It feels like a commitment.” I grin. “Tell me about yours.”
He lies back and bends his knee, pulling his shorts so I can see the intricate art on his thigh. It’s more delicate than I realized. Each line is so intentional, so precise, that I can tell there are multiple pieces blended instead of one large design.
“Well, each one of these means something to me,” he says, tracing the dark ink. “The first one I got was this rosary. I got it the weekend after my parents died. I was struggling and just having a really hard time accepting that they were gone, and I was drawn to the pain of the needle more than anything.”
I press a kiss to his shoulder. “May I ask what happened to them?”
“Sure.” He clears his throat without looking at me. “Dad had to go to Kansas to pick up a horse a buddy of his was training, and Mom decided to tag along for once. A tornado ripped through the little town they were staying in during the night. The storm came out of nowhere. Mom died instantly, but Dad pulled through for a few days. We were able to talk to him and tell him goodbye. So I guess that’s good.”
My heart splinters at the pain on his face.How tragic. I kiss his shoulder again before placing my hand on his stomach, just letting him know I’m here.
“So that’s the rosary,” he says, heaving a breath. “This is the number nine in roman numerals since I’m number nine inrugby. The cigar is for Pap, and the blackbird for the Blackbird Ranch, obviously. The cowboy hat is for Hartley.”
“I would think a heart would’ve been the logical choice,” I say, hoping my joke will ease the tension in his voice.
He chuckles. “I was a little inebriated and not thinking clearly when I chose that.”
“I guess that’s a reason not to drink and ink.”
His chuckle turns to laughter, and the light is back in his eyes. My shoulders fall in relief.
My attention falls on a snowflake at the bottom of the design. It’s tiny, barely noticeable, but its daintiness is beautiful, and I can’t help but wonder what it represents.
