There's water dripping off his dark hair. Down his chest piece—the shaded black and grey roses. It drips down his side, across The Ramones lyrics, all the way to the Latin quote jutting out from his towel. Sic Transit Gloria.
Glory fades.
What does it mean to him?
What would it feel like to trace every link of ink?
To have that warm, wet body pressed against mine?
On top of mine?
I'm pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.
My cheeks are burning. I must be every shade of red.
Emma grabs a pillow and tosses it at her brother. He moves into the main room just in time to dodge it.
She folds her arms over her chest. "You're not wearing clothes because...?"
"There's this thing called a shower. You use it when you want to get clean."
"And what do you know about being clean?" She taps her fingers agains
t her bicep. "You think the girls you throw away stay quiet about your preferences?"
Brendon raises a brow.
Emma looks to me and rolls her eyes. Isn't he annoying? "What are you trying to prove? We know you're sculpted out of marble. Who goes to the gym twice a day?"
"People who are sculpted out of marble." Brendan moves into the kitchen. "Smells like pancakes."
"You want some?" Emma asks.
"No," he says. "I have dinner plans."
"Oh." I press my palms into my thighs. "You and Ryan meeting to talk about the buyout?"
"Huh?" Emma looks to me. What are you talking about?
Brendon shakes his head. "No. I have a date."
Chapter Twelve
Kaylee
Brendon has a date.
He's seeing another human being.
Romantically.
I'm going to throw up.
Emma presses her hands together. "You could make us more pancakes before you go."
"I'm running late," he says.
"Who are you dating?" Emma's voice is casual. Like this isn't the worst news in forever.