Page 50 of Hate You, Maybe
“Of course I want to stick around,” I say. “I spent my whole life trying to find a place that felt like home. And Harvest Hollow’s the most at home I’ve ever felt.”
“That’s what happened to me, too,” he says. “Except I was twelve when we moved. The whole town’s pretty special.”
“So is the school,” I say. “I love Stony Peak.”
“Home of the underdogs.”
“You mean undersquirrels.”
“Exactly.” He draws in a breath, and the planes of his bare chest expand. “That’s the reason I fight so hard for my department.”
“Me too.” I swallow. “It’s why I try so hard to be a part of everything. But then I probably end up being too much. Like Mr. Wilford said. Instead of being a team player, I put myself in the spotlight.”
“Yeah, same.” Dex runs a hand over his still-damp hair, and fresh droplets flick onto his shoulder. A thickly muscled shoulder that’s covered in tattoos.
Whoa.
How am I just clocking this?
There’s a coiled-up snake. A bleeding heart. A crackedskull. An eagle with a rose in its beak. My gaze dips, taking them all in. And Dex must notice, because he reaches up and runs a hand over the skin, wiping off the water.
“So.” I press out a little laugh, embarrassed by my continued breathlessness. “Secret tattoos, huh? Three years working together, and I had no idea.”
“I don’t exactly run around campus in tank tops.” He takes a beat. “Or with my shirt off.”
“Smart.” I wrinkle my nose. “Otherwise, there’d be a daily body count from everyone fainting and cracking their heads open.” I try to laugh again, but it sounds more like a honk.
“I’m just not really into explaining the significance.” His eyes lock with mine. “And if no one knows, they can’t ask.”
I offer him my most solemn nod. “Your ink is safe with me.” I have zero desire to tell anybody that I saw Dexter’s half-naked body. Also, he’s still half naked now. And I’m dying to ask him about the tattoos.
There’s a stretch of silence. Then he says, “You want to know about the tattoos, don’t you.” A statement, not a question.
“Maybe.”
“Well, maybe I’ll tell you.” He smirks. “In exchange for your eternal silence.”
I cross my heart. “Promise.”
His mouth curls up, and he hitches his left shoulder. “The stuff on this side’s just typical stuff guys get when they’re young and dumb and unoriginal. A group of friends from the dorm started out with the snake when we were freshmen. And we kept adding something new every year. The skull. The heart. The eagle.”
“Eagle with a rose,” I add.
“Dramatic, right?” He snickers. “There’s nothing too meaningful about any of these. Other than the fact that we got them together.”
I study the curve of his muscles, the art of friendship permanently engraved on him. “Well, I like it,” I say. Then again, anything that marks a commitment to friendship means something to me. My focus shifts to his other arm. There’s writing on the bicep and a crescent moon in the center, but I can’t make out the words from here. “What about that one?”
He shifts on the bed, leaving his arm open for closer inspection. So I come forward, reading out loud.
“Right up to the moon and back.” I pause for a moment, searching my memory for where I’ve heard this before. “Little Nutbrown Hare?”
He nods, slowly. “From the book.Guess How Much I Love You.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a bunch of your friends from college running around with that moon, too.”
“Heh. No.” He meets my gaze. “I got this one with my sisters.”
“Oh, wow.” As someone who never had a sibling, I can’t even imagine a gesture like this. “That’s … that’s very sweet.”
