I take a breath. Shit. My ears are burning.
"Do you actually…" I pause, glance at him, then look back down. "Do you have that tattoo?"
"You’re gonna have to be a little more specific."
Of course. I give him a look and then quickly jerk my chin down toward his pants.
My face is on fire. He freezes for half a second. Then smiles. "Ohhh. So you’ve heard aboutthat."
"I didn’t want to!" I say quickly. "She wouldn’t shut up about it!"
"So?" he says, still grinning. "You think it’s true?"
I swallow hard. "I don’t know. Is it?"
He leans back, arms behind his head, body stretching out right beside me. The edge of his shirt lifts slightly, teasing skin.
His biceps flex under the pillow of his hands. His eyes are smiling. "Right in front of you," he says smoothly.
"Check for yourself. If you’ve got the balls."
Every single part of me stops working. That’s it. I want to collapse on the spot.
Why would he say that? To me?
A fragile poor little educator-in-training?
I stand up so fast my leg hits the corner of the bed.
"Okay! That’s it. Nope. I’m done." I move to leave.
But he grabs my wrist. "Sit down, you freak."
I hesitate.
He tugs gently, and somehow I find myself back on the bed before I even think it through. My cheeks are scorching.
I turn away from him, refusing to look. Refusing to breathe. "Guess you’ll never find out," he says in a low voice, almost a whisper.
I clench my jaw. "Fine by me. Better that way."
And without looking, without speaking again, I open my laptop and start typing.
27) Let Me Go
Rava
It’s been an hour. Maybe more.
My fingers are cramping from all the typing, my eyes are dry, and my brain feels like mashed potatoes. I let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "Will you stop mumbling already?" Gio says without looking up, still going through that box of his.
Crap. Ihavebeen mumbling.
I always do when I’m concentrating too hard. "I was about to take a break, anyway," I mutter. "I’m tired."
I shut the laptop and push it aside. My hands are stiff. I lean back a little, stretching, and glance over at him. He’s still bent over the box, sorting through stacks of old photos.
"I’m hungry," I say, rubbing my eyes. Without looking up, he says, "I thought you’d be, after staring at me so much."
