Her words twist something in my gut. She sees too much of me. More than I can handle. "You can't talk your way out of this."
"This?"
I nod to her purple notebook, the one sitting on her desk.
"Oh." Her cheeks flush. "Right now?"
"Right now." I let my fingertips brush her hip. Her side. "Why are you up so late?"
"School starts tomorrow." She pushes herself to her feet. Grabs the journal. Hugs it to her chest. "I can't sleep."
"Change is always scary."
She nods. "You seem to roll with it."
"What ever changes in my life?"
"Emma's hair color."
I can't help but chuckle.
She climbs back into bed. Brushes her fingers against my upper arm. Then she's tracing the lines of the tattoo going down to my elbow. "This. It's new."
"Depends on your definition of new."
"You're like Em with her hair. You look different every time I see you."
"Every time?"
"Every few weeks."
"I have to slow down." I stare back into her gorgeous green eyes. "I'm running out of skin."
She drags her fingers over my forearm, presses her palm against all the bare skin. "You have plenty." She drags her fingers over my stomach. Plays with the hem of my t-shirt. "And here."
"And there." I soak in her touch as her fingers skim my bare skin.
"You've always wanted to do tattoos. As long as I've known you."
"Yeah."
"What is it about them you love?"
"Everything."
"But specifically." She traces the ink over my hip all the way to the waistband of my jeans. "You... you practically left your family over them."
Yeah, I did. I was a little shit, but then it was the only way. I was never going to be good enough for my parents. "It feels right."
"That's it?"
"What else is there?" I watch her trace the outlines of my skin. Watch her eyes travel over my body. Watch her lips purse with a sigh.
She wants me.
I want her.
We're both in a fucking bed.