Rafael laughs. “You really do love day planners.”
“I really do.”
“Don’t you remember that I made one myself last year?”
“You never wrote the dates on it.”
“Yet it still worked somehow.”
“I should have just bought you one when I converted Matty,” I sigh. “I was at the store anyway.”
Rafael leans forward. “I’ll have to figure something out, honestly.” He shakes his head. “For now, I’m lucky. I get to just keep practicing.”
He lifts the bottom of his shirt, showing me the spot right under his rib. Beside the little mark he’d made the other day, there’s a new tattoo, a small robot head.
“Oh wow!” I lean forward, impressed the lines look crisp and clean. “Did you—”
“Cleaned properly after I did it this morning, don’t worry. But then I got impatient so I pulled the plastic off.”
I laugh. “Wow, it looks really good. Just promise me you’re not going to practice all over yourself and be covered in meaningless squiggles.”
Rafael frowns as he drops his shirt. “No squiggle is meaningless, Alexander,” he says, dropping his voice low.
“Okay, weirdo,” I laugh. “But you know what I mean.”
“Well, as soon as you come up with a tattoo that you want, just let me know, and I’ll practice on you instead.” Rafael spins his finger in the air, like he’s tattooing me. “I’ll give you cool ink to impress Davis.”
My cheeks feel warm. The idea of having Rafael tattoo me and put some of his illustrations on my body is actually super hot. I want that so bad, and it tugs my desire for him, reigniting my pining.
Now I know what it’s like to really kiss him. It’s not just some fantasy I came up with over the years. It’s electric and magical, and it makes my whole body quiver.
I want it so bad it hurts.
“Davis,” I say. “Right.”
Rafael gives me a slightly puzzled look. He’s trying to read me and not sure what’s up. Anxious about how easily he can figure out my thoughts, though, I cave and answer his question from earlier instead. “Coffee was good. We’re going to see each other again. At the con.”
“Oh.” Rafael is slightly surprised, but seems pleased. “That’s great.” He rubs the back of his head and then kind of laughs to himself. “That’s really great,” he says again, then tilts his eyes up toward me. “And did you get a little…” He purses his lips.
I laugh and toss the rainbow-printed throw pillow at him. “Come on.”
“What?” he objects. “I helped you practice, didn’t I?”
My heart is beating harder. We’re talking about the fact that we kissed, which, outside of Rafael insisting I was good at it a few times that night, hasn’t come up since.
Blood rushes through me, and I realize I’m getting hard.
Shit, this is not good. This is like when Rafael undresses in front of me, and I have to force myself to stare at a spot on the wall. I feel inappropriate and flustered.
He frowns. “Well, I’m sorry he didn’t want to kiss, I guess.”
“What? It’s not like that,” I tell him. “Davis wanted to kiss me.”
“And you didn’t want to kiss him?”
“No, I did.”
We stare at each other.I want to kiss you, weirdo, I think so hard, I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it.
