“It’s fine,” he softly speaks.
“I saw the article. It wasn’t fair of them to intrude on your private moment with Elijah.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he quips.
Can’t say I blame him. We haven’t been the best of friends.
“Alex, listen.” I blow out a breath. “I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot.” His pecs bounce as he repositions himselfon the bed and leans back on his elbows, eagle-winged tattoo stretching out across his chest. I pull my eyes away.
Suddenly, I feel naked.
And confused.
Naked and fucking confused.
When the hell has nakedness ever bothered me?
Never.
And that’s why I’m confused!
Ughhhh!
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I’d thrown on a shirt. At least there would only be one of us sitting here bare chested. But two partially naked guys? Yeah, definitely finding it hard…to think!
Goddamn it!
I look back at the eagle tattoo. It’s quite stunning—all that detail going into the feathers alone is magnificent. I wonder if Meera designed it? I’d know if I could get a closer look; there’s always a telltale sign to her artwork. Like I tried explaining to Alex earlier, two images coexisting within one picture—a hidden picture within a picture, if you will. It’s what made her sketches so unique. A mindfuck.
Speaking of mindfuck…
My eyes drop to the puzzle piece on his wrist. I really need to study that piece. It’s too simple. And Meera’s artwork isneversimple.
I sweep my hair out of my face and twist it up in a knot. I begin checking off what I already know—the shading is different. While the other pieces on his back are all solid, this one is filled in with rain…or tears. Knowing Meera, it could be both.
Like I said—mindfuck.
And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something missing. Like it’s unfucked… and Meera would never leave her artwork unfucked.
Speaking of unfucked… I need to get laid.
Alex’s shirt catches my eye, draped over the back of a chair across the room. I spring to my feet and scoop it up. “Mind putting this on?” I toss it to him with a flirtatious smirk. A joke hovers on the tip of my tongue—he can tell too, watching me with that expectant look—but for the first time ever, I actually keep my mouth shut.
He catches the shirt midair and pulls it over his head. Drool practically pools at the corner of my lips as the thin fabric stretches over that oh-so-sexy eagle tattoo.
I’ve always wanted a tattoo—maybe a butterfly, one wing the flag of Spain, the other Puerto Rico. It would be so pretty.
Oh, who am I kidding? Needles terrify me. I’d cry throughout the whole process. Probably pass out too.
“You were saying?” Alex speaks, snapping me out of my head.
Christ. Was I saying something?
“Um…”
What the hell was I saying? I remember thinking I need to get laid, that’s for damn sure. Oh god, I didn’t tell him that, did I? Not that I give a fuck, but…
Alex snorts. “No worries. Let’s just start over, okay? I’d like to be friends,” he says, his voice warm enough to melt me on the spot.
