Sara snorted. “I know you’re in trouble.”
Hanna’s phone vibrated against the pool deck beneath them. Before she could grab it, Sara snatched it from her.
“How mad will you be if I read it?”
“Light mad. Heavy embarrassed,” she groaned.
“Is that him?” Taylor screeched.
“Hanna. Grace. Stevens,” Sara muttered, her lips falling open as she read the text.
Hanna squeezed her eyes shut. “How bad is it?”
“It’s been three hours and I can still taste you?” Sara fanned herself. “Ma’am. You better fucking spill what happened this morning now.”
“This morning was boring,” she smirked. “Just a kiss over breakfast. What you really want to hear about is the time we had sex at the bar.”
If Sara could have evaporated Hanna with a stare, she’d have been dust in the wind.
“I need another drink. Someone help me. Oh my god.” Sara sat on the edge of her pool chair and looked her best friend in the eyes, her face bewildered. “I want to hear every filthy detail. But first, you have to let me take a picture of you to send to him.”
Hanna panicked. She could explain away a lot of things about Milo, but a tattoo?
“Wait! Get her wet!” Taylor pushed herself out of the pool, pulling at Hanna’s cover-up.
“I—”
Sara rolled her eyes.
“Oh come on, Hanna! It’s just a bit of fun!”
Hanna sighed. She’d already exposed more than she’d planned—what was one more thing? She pulled the cover-up off and laid back on the chair. Sara’s eyes immediately darted toward the black splotched ink beneath the clear bandage.
“The fuck is that?”
Hanna tried to fight back the grin, but it was too late.
“That is… a new tattoo. That Milo paid for last night.”
A chorus of oh my gods exploded before Maricela got them back on track.
“Use the engagement ring balloon to reflect gold onto her. It’ll make her look tan,” Maricela spouted as she rushed around the cabana and grabbed the massive ring inflatable. She held it toward the sun to cast a warm reflection over Hanna.
“Cross one leg over the other like, yep, you got it,” Taylor said. “Okay Sara, how’s our angle?”
“I need more titty,” she said, squatting and standing, trying to find the right vantage point. “Move your arm. There they are!”
“Take it in portrait mode!” Maricela shouted, stretching to get more sunlight on the balloon.
“I got it! Okay. Oh my god, yes, this one,” Sara said, tapping and adjusting something before she flashed it to Hanna for approval. Hanna’s head spun, but her tits did look great, despite the peeling plastic beneath them. “Sent!”
“Wait, what did you say with it?”
Sara balked. “Nothing. What man wants to read an essay with their tittygraphs?”
She reached for the phone. “Milo does. He cares way more about the mental game.”
She typed out a message and fired it off while Sara read over her shoulder.
