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“Doc, you naughty minx.”
“Sydney will literally kill me if I do not get this confirmed. I am asking on her behalf. I have no personal interest.”
“Mm.”
“Ok whatever, don’t answer.”
“Fine. Yes. That one is real. That was a very fun night, and I don’t regret it.” His voice has dropped half an octave. I think I have to end this conversation before I do something stupid. Well, something else stupid other than asking him about his sex life.
“Right.” I clear my throat. “Glad we’ve got that, uhhh, cleared up?”
“Have you?”
“Have I…had a foursome?”
“Yeah.”
I tap my chin and pretend to think.
“Well, there was that…uh, nope, no. No, I have not.”
Why is the mental image of his foursome suddenly the sexiest image in the world right now?
I notice that his arm is right there, fully bare, fully tattooed, fully visible to me for the first time in three weeks of tutoring sessions in long sleeves and Henleys. My eyes are tracking the ink without my permission. I think there are bird footprints across his wrist. A small hand-and-flame on his forearm. A dolphin on the back of his hand. A really shitty dolphin.
“Is that,” I say, “is that a dolphin?”
He looks down. He looks at the dolphin. He smiles at the dolphin like it is an old friend.
“It is.”
“It’s really badly drawn.”
“It’s badly drawn on purpose.”
“And why?”
“My drummer dared me. We have matching ones. San Diego. I was nineteen.”
“You have a matching badly drawn dolphin with another grown man.”
“With one of my best friends. Yes,” he says proudly.
“That is actually really sweet.” I giggle.
“I like this side of you,” he says out of nowhere.
I reel back. “Oh.”
“You’re fun.”
“Well, I feel like I’m like that most of the time.” He doesn’t think I’m fun? I’m so much fun. Well. Maybe not when I’m being his tutor. Actually, maybe he has a point.
He shakes his head. “Nah, not with me. You’re usually so serious.”
He looks at me intensely like he’s investigating my face.
Paralyzed, I throw myself backwards onto the bed because I need to be looking at the ceiling and not at his face.
