“Ya está.”
I jerk my arm away from my face and look at him in surprise. “Done?Already?”
“Of course he’s done, Elle. I mean it’s the tiniest thing ever. Not like it was going to take him all day.” Simone laughs. “Now shove aside so I can get mine done.”
My tattoo turns out so dainty and cute; I immediately love it. I don’t even have to wonder what Winnie would think about it. She’d adore the idea of having her initial forever etched on my skin. She’d gloat about it nonstop, I’m sure.
For my shift the next day at Aura, I add a new bandage over the tattoo just to be on the safe side. Simone’s jealous about where I got mine done. The tiny strawberry she had inked on her hip sits right at the seam of her Aura one-piece, and she winces with every step.
“Bloody hell! What was I thinking getting it here? I should have had him do it on my forehead.”
Annika doesn’t have this problem because she never got her tattoo. Well, technically she did.
“It’s there, see it?” She leans over the bar, toward Thalia. We’re gathered near her station before our shift to show off our ink.
Annika is referring to the two tiny dots the tattoo artist managed just beneath her clavicle before Annika promptly passed out in a cold sweat on his table. We spent the rest of her appointment fanning her face and helping her eat some crackers until we were sure we could get her home.
Thalia squints, trying to discern what Annika’s talking about. “Those freckles?”
Simone and I barely restrain our laughs.
Annika scowls. “They’re not freckles. It’s my tattoo.”
Thalia nods and smiles, throwing her a bone. Among us, she’s still sporting the most ink. In her uniform, you can barely see the tattoo that loops up her neck, but when she wore her bikini at the beach the other day, I noticed that it continues down her side as well—a big floral piece with intricate details and a lot of shading. I can’t imagine how long it took.
“Any pain so far?” she asks me.
I smile. “None now that it’s done. I kept it covered for the first twenty-four hours as instructed. I only covered it again just before my shift to be on the safe side.”
She nods as Hugo calls out for us to gather for a pre-shift meeting, and from that moment until the following Saturday afternoon, my life is a blur. For almost a week, I work and sleep and hang out with Annika and Simone. We study Winnie’s list, strategizing how to go about checking off certain items.
We’re in our pajamas at Simone’s and my apartment, having a lazy Saturday morning, poring over the list, deciding if we’re expected to “go to a crazy dance party”—maybe we should make sure we don’t have work the next day—and when we can get out to “Hippy Market Punta Arabí” since it’s only open for shopping on Wednesdays.
When we get to “fall in love” and “wild sex,” the energy in the room changes. I try to gloss over those items, but my friends aren’t having it. Finally Annika crosses her arms like a menace.
“We want details about Cristiano and we won’t rest until we get them,” Annika demands.
Simone copies her. “Yeah. Spill.”
I try to close Winnie’s journal, symbolizing a closure of thetopic in general, but Simone yanks it out of my hands. “Tell us or the journal gets it.”
She gestures like she’s going to toss it over our apartment balcony.
I arch a brow, challenging her. “You’re going to throw Winnie’s journal down seven stories? Throwthe very last thingI have that belonged to my sister?”
Simone’s face breaks and she lowers the journal, but Annika protests. “Don’t buy it, Simone! She’s playing on your emotions!”
Simone looks at me in shock, but I just shrug. I have all of Winnie’s stuff at home—boxes and boxes of it. I have a copy of that journal as well. I wasn’t going to take any chances that I’d lose it during my travels.
“Are you and Cristiano old friends or something?” Annika asks, eyeing me with careful attention. “I don’t understand how you seem to know each other.”
“It’s our families that know each other,” I reply tiredly.
Simone’s eyes widen. “How so? How’s that even possible? Aren’t you from California?”
“Yes, but my grandmother grew up in Spain and so did Cristiano’s.Theyknew each other.” With that, I stand and yank the journal out of Simone’s hand. “That’s the full story. Cristiano thinks it’s his duty to watch out for me since our grandmothers were old friends. I’ve told him not to worry about it, and now… you’re all caught up. I’m going to get ready for work.”
They go quiet behind me and I assume they buy my line that there’s nothing more between me and Cristiano.
