“Tell me something. What would you be getting up to in the city on a typical Friday night?” I asked.
She stiffened for a beat, caught off guard by question, before she relaxed back into the couch. She swiped her tongue across her teeth, worrying her lip between them before she answered.
“A typical night would look a lot like this, I guess. It isn’t all glamour and parties every night, you know.”
A chuckle slipped past my lips at her sass. She side-eyed me, but a small smirk tugged at her lips.
“Well, that’s a letdown. I pictured you on rooftop bars and swanky nightclubs, partying it up with the eight million other people in the city.”
She laughed, a real smile spreading across her face. “There was a time when that was true. Except I was partial to underground bars more than rooftop ones.” Her eyes danced with whatever memories were floating through her head, a faraway look taking her back in time. I didn’t except her to offer up any more information, so it surprised me when she spoke again. “I had these two friends, Lisha and Nelly. God, they were so much fun. Lisha was all about finding the hippest, trendiest places and dragging me and Nelly with her. This one time, she found out a secret passcode to get into this exclusive, super-secret club, so of course, we all head down there that night. Turns out it was a sex club.”
She glanced over to me, a strange look of apprehension on her face.
“Did you stay, little wild?” A wide grin split my face, my gaze locked on her. My heart rate climbed as images of her in a place like that ran through my imagination. Sexy as fuck, and all I wanted to do is scoop her ass out of there and knockout anyone’s teeth who tried to touch her.
“I was going to. Thought it might be a fun story to tell.” She shrugged. “But then I saw my boss—my very proper, very married boss—just full-on going at it with these guys. I hightailed it out of there so fast. Lisha and Nelly didn’t let me live that down for months,” she laughed.
A weight lifted from my chest that didn’t make any sense. It wouldn’t have mattered if she did or didn’t participate in a sex club. It wasn’t like I thought she was out there living some chaste life.
We fell back into a comfortable silence for a while. The television was playing some sitcom from twenty years ago softly in the background. The buzz I’d had when I walked in was all but gone as I settled in with her company.
Now that she’d started talking, I didn’t want her to stop.
“When did you get that tattoo?” I asked, gesturing to her inner arm, where a little girl was holding the string of a kite.
“I think I was twenty-two when I got this one,” she said, looking at the tattoo like she was studying it. “It was on my mom’s birthday.”
“It’s good. Whoever did it did a good job.” She turned back to the television, but I wasn’t done yet. “How many do you have?”
“Four. How many do you have?”
“Ha,” I laughed. Most of my body was covered in ink. Some were a fuck lot better done than others. I had practiced on myself for years as I honed my craft. “Fuck it if I know.”
“Which one was your first one?”
“This one here.” I showed her my bicep, where a mean-looking skull sat, a snake emerging from its eye. It was pretty badass, and even after all this time, it was one of my favorites. “I got it for my twenty-first birthday. Luke came with me. My mom was pissed.” A warm, deep chuckle rumbled through my chest at the memory. She hated that tattoo, but it changed something within me the moment I got it. I drew up the design myself, and when the tattoo artist told me it was good, my chest puffed up with pride. Seeing my own art on my skin became an addiction. Seeing it on other people’s skin was ten times cooler.
“What about this one? What’s the story here?” I held her hand while my other hand traced the black lines on her forearm that made up a floral design.
“Paid for with my first gallery paycheck, back when I was still the social media manager instead of assistant curator. Probably not the most responsible decision, considering I was beyond broke at the time. But it made me smile, so it was worth it.”
“That’s two down,” I smirked.
I hadn’t expected Lydia to open up to me like this. I fucking loved it. I wanted to know everything that had happened in her years away. Every detail that made her who she was today. “Number three. The one on your inner thigh? What made you get that one?”
“That isn’t number three, that’s number four.”
“I wasn’t doing them in order. What’s the story behind that one?”
She stared quietly at the television for a minute. “Here,” she said, tossing the remote to my chest. “I’m going to bed.”
She completely shut down on me in the space of sixty seconds. So much for opening up to me. I had no idea what was going through her head, but it wasn’t her usual fiery attitude or exaggerated annoyance with me. She looked sad.I fucking hated it.
“Lydia, you alright?” I called to her as she retreated back to her bedroom.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She looked over her shoulder, a tired smile, unnatural and forced, playing across her lips. “Good night, Seb.”
What the hell just happened? We were getting along fine until that thigh tattoo came up. Whatever the story was there, it wasn’t something she was ready to share. And I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.
