Dylan wandered to the bar and placed an order. Although he was tempted to get Callum something interesting to drink, he stuck to beer. He did make sure he got a decent one though. While he waited for the drinks to be poured, he looked back at Callum. Tattoo Boy was staring at his phone, eyebrows pulled together in a scowl.
By the time Dylan was back at the table, Callum had put his phone away and had a neutral expression on his face.
“Is everything okay?” Dylan asked.
“Sure. Why?”
“You were looking at your phone very intensely.”
“Oh.” Callum shrugged. “My sister sent me a text, that’s all.”
“The same one who was giving you a hard time on the phone on Thursday?”
“Yep. I only have one sister.”
“Any brothers?”
“No. You?”
Dylan shook his head. “I’m an only child. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Callum swallowed a couple of gulps of beer and then wiped the froth away from his mouth.
Dylan stared as Callum’s forearm swept across his lips, the moment happening in slow motion in his imagination. Fuck, the guy was sexy. He blinked and made himself look away.
“Tell me about your tattoos then?”
Callum glanced down at his arms. “What do you want to know?”
“If they’ve got any meaning.”
Callum ran his fingers over the two koi carp on his right forearm. “These are for luck, but they also symbolise perseverance. I got it when I decided to stop fucking my life up. I knew it was going to be hard and I’d needed something to remind me to stay focused and not give up.”
“Do you mean after you left juvie?”
Callum shook his head. “I kept on fucking up after that, I was just a bit better at not getting caught.” He downed a third of his pint in one go. “I was a mess,” he admitted. “Stealing, vandalism… Before juvie, I bunked off school more often than I was there and left with only a couple of GCSEs.” He twisted his fingers together. “It’s okay if you think I’m a loser. I am.”
Callum’s expression had become miserable. His shoulders were slumped, and the brightness in his eyes had vanished. Dylan wanted to wrap his arms around Tattoo Boy, hold him and tell him everything would be okay. Obviously, he kept his hands to himself.
“I don’t think you’re a loser,” he said gently. “Tell me about the rest of the tattoos?”
Callum sucked in a breath and touched his upper left arm. “The roses are about hope and new beginnings, the monarch butterflies are all about change and rebirth.”
“You’re trying to reinvent yourself?” Dylan asked.
“Yes, I guess so.”
“And the eagle?”
Callum rubbed his neck. “Release from bondage.”
Dylan raised his eyebrows. He hadnotbeen expectingthat.
Callum’s cheeks flushed pink again. “Notthatkind of bondage. I wanted to get it as soon as I got out of juvie, but obviously I was too young. It was the first tattoo I got as soon as I was eighteen.” He rolled his right T-shirt sleeve up, to fully reveal the hummingbird on his bicep. “And this is another one for luck. I figured I’d need lots of it.”
Dylan’s heart ached. Here was a cute, troubled, and clearly fragile guy, opening up to him when all he’d told were lies. He swallowed, but it did nothing to get rid of the ball of guilt that had lodged itself in his throat. “Do you have any more tattoos?”
“No. Do you have any?”
