My poker face is failing miserably.
“Where were you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases.
“Actually, never mind. I don’t care,” I express, cooling my features as I face away from him and swim toward the steps leading out of the pool. I’ll go marinate in the hot tub until my body turns to jello. My plan is to exhaust myself, maybe have a drink from the hotel room bar, take a hot shower, and pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
I’ll ignore Dominik, and in the morning, we’ll head down for breakfast, pack up our shit, and leave for New York. That can’t come soon enough.
My bathing suit clings to me snugly as I adjust the straps, preparing to step into the cozy, circular hot tub next to the swimming pool. While Dom’s eyes roam across my body, I attempt to dismiss the electrifying sensation.
“Can I join you?” Dominik doesn’t wait for my response as he starts removing his shoes.
I pretend like I’m playing with the bubbles gurgling in front of me, but from the corner of my eye, I can see him slip out of his jeans. I try not to stare down at the tight white boxers he has on and instead focus on his face and the smile he flashes me right as he grips the back of his sweater by the collar and pulls it over his head.
Sweet lord…I am going to melt right into this fucking hot tub.
He lays a towel on the ground, plops down onto it, and drapes his legs in the water while leaning back on his hands and staring at me.
I open my mouth to tell him off but notice a large, white, square bandage covering his chest, right over his heart.
“What happened?”
He nonchalantly brushes a hand over it. “A new addition.”
“A tattoo? Is that where you were?”
He tips his chin down.
“Why here? Isn’t your artist in New York?”
Dominik shakes his head. “I have a few favorite spots all over. One of them happens to be in Vancouver, and I’ve been wanting to get this particular ink for some time.”
He has a multitude of tattoos, and I can’t deny that I have a strong desire to trace each one and uncover the inspiration behind each piece of art. What every ink dot signifies to him, and whether some hold no meaning at all.
“What did you get?”
Dom dips his head, smiling down. “It’s hard to explain, but I’m sure you’ll see it once it’s healed.”
“Is it similar to those ones?” I say, pointing to the ink all over his left arm, shoulder, and on the side of his chest. Abstract lines, numbers, and words intertwine with each other. The different symbols, although impossible to decode, seem to be connected somehow.
“Somewhat. But this one is the main piece, right over my heart.”
I glance up at Dominik to see his eyes on me, watching as I take in his tattoos.
I point to a strip of text and numbers all trickling down his forearm. “What do all these say?”
Dominik is quiet for a long time, and when he speaks, he’s careful with his words. “They remind me of someone.”
“Who? Your dad?”
With a smirk on his face, he casually shrugs, as if he has no intention of telling me anything. I roll my eyes, losing interest in the conversation. “You didn’t have to check on me, you know. I told Coach you’d be joining the guys for a drink.”
“I’m not checking on you. I want to spend time with you.”
Leaning my head back, I stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to spend time with you.”
“That’s not true.”
