My inner teenager was about to pass out with happiness. “Yeah, it’s one of mine. I like the aesthetic. Plus, merfolk. What’snotto like?”
Carter chuckled, playing with the salt shaker as the waitress came back.
He smiled and thanked her, but his attention swung back to me the moment she was gone.
Don’t read too much into it, he’s just being nice.
I shoved a fry in my mouth to shut my stupid, cynical brain up. What was the harm in letting myselfhavethis? Just for an afternoon?
“Be honest with me,” Carter said, starting in on his own fries. “Doesit hurt? Getting a tattoo, I mean?”
“Or is that just, like, some kinda bullshit we let people believe because it makes us seem tough? That what you’re asking?” I teased. I’d answered this question a million times, but I didn’t mind doing it again for Carter.
“I wasn’t gonna put it that way,” Carter said, lips already glossy red from salt and grease. He had fuller, softer-looking lips than he had any right to.
I started in on my burger, contemplating the question. “Depends where you get it, honestly. I have one on my ass that I fell asleep in the middle of. The merman, too, that was actually kinda soothing. But then the top of the anchor, on my ribs, that… that was like someone pouring drain cleaner on me for an hour and a half.”
Carter winced. “Why put yourself through that?” he asked.
“Can’t speak for everyone,” I said. “But for me, it’s about taking ownership of the awful flesh prison I live in. I, umm. I do a lot of work with people who have scars they wanna cover up, and I guess for me it’s a less intense version of that.”
“You mean your scars aren’t visible,” Carter said.
For a handful of seconds, all I could do was blink stupidly at him.
The thought had never occurred to me in those terms before, but he was right. He’d seen right through me in a way I’d never even seen through myself.
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing past a lump in my throat. “Yeah, uh. I guess that is what I mean.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Carter asked, nervous all over again.
No. Nope. I wasn’t losing him now, not when I’d had a taste of what he was like when he was comfortable.
“You said something so right it broke my brain a little to hear,” I said instead.
Whatever we had right now—a budding friendship, maybe—I didn’t want it to go away. I wanted to water it and tend to it and make sure it was getting enough sun to grow into a beautiful flower.
… I was adork.
But Carter didn’t seem to mind.
Maybe I’d always known he wouldn’t. Maybe that was what I’d liked about him in the first place. When we were in high school, no one had appreciated me being a dork.
“Poor brain,” he said, a tiny smile playing around his lips between bites of food. “We’ll pick up some duct tape in the convenience store on the way out.”
I laughed, relief washing over me after accidentally bearing my soul to someone who was little more than a stranger to me. Carter, inexplicably, didn’t seem to mind.
That crush really wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m mostly held together with duct tape, chewing gum, and wishes,” I said. “So that’s not the worst idea.”
“Eat your lunch,” Carter said, the faintest hint of older brother authority in his tone. His sister was my age, but I’d never really known her well. She’d been in band, and band kids were a law unto themselves.
“Yes, sir,” I sing-songed, wondering how obviously I was glowing with happiness.
If he could tell, he wasn’t giving anything away.
This might not have been the dumbest idea I’d ever had, after all.
