Stone leans back in the seat and crosses his sinewy arms over his chest. “Go on,” he says with a soft smile. His worn T-shirt hangs off his shoulders, and I see a tattoo that looks like the planet Jupiter, peeking out over the collar.
I want to stare at that tattoo and the beautiful shading of Jupiter’s ring as it caresses his clavicle, but I pull my attention away.
Milo, I remind myself.
This is all about Milo.
“Favorite type of music,” I say as I lift the first card, then flip it over. “Pop punk.”
“Pop punk,” he repeats, his smile widening.
He’s amused by me, clearly, which is good. People are usually annoyed with me or amused by me, and if he were in the former category, it would be a lot harder to sell this charade.
“Ever since high school,” I say, “and I refuse to change.”
“Got it.”
“Most hated music,” I continue, then flip the next card. “Metal.”
Stone frowns. “I love metal.”
“Excellent,” I grin. “Our first fight.”
Stone stares at me and chuckles. “Keep that opinion to yourself when we’re at the tattoo convention. I can’t spend another afternoon listening to the shop argue about Alice Cooper.”
I set the cards down. “What about you?” I ask, my curiosity rising. “What’s the one-oh-one?”
Stone unfolds his arms to drink the beer. “Nothing special. Grew up in Minneapolis. Found my way to Chicago. Like tattooing.”
“Hate full sentences,” I tease.
“I’m not a big talker, usually.”
I nod to his forearm and the tattoo of his grandma. “Tell me about her,” I ask. “You were close?”
“Yeah,” he answers, his voice suddenly rougher, all breath. “Grandma Maya. She raised me for a while when I was growing up.”
“What was she like?”
He smiles softly with the memory. “She was a badass to the rest of the world, but nothing but sweet to me. Taught me how to cook, how to fix a leaky sink, and change the oil in a truck, pretty much everything I know. And she was the only one to ever encourage my drawing.”
He shakes his head and waves his hand, dismissing the thoughts. I get the impression that little bit was a lot more than he usually shares, which flatters me.
“Sounds like a great grandma.”
“She was. Always said the most important thing was to stick up for myself. Even if no one else is fighting with me, I should never give up.” He chuckles. “I don’t think she intended it the way I took it, but it was still a good lesson.”
“What does that mean?”
Stone turns his eyes back to catch mine, and I notice that the cloud has returned, darkening his gaze. “Nothing,” he answers after a minute. “Did you grow up around here?”
“Iowa. I moved to study animation and decided to stick around when I landed a job at Twice Live Motions.”
“You go back to Iowa much?”
“Never. You go back to Minneapolis?”
“Nope.”
