“It’s funny now, but I was so embarrassed. How I didn’t turn out to be a burnout is beyond me.” He was still smiling, fingertips tracing circles on my back. “Anyway, before we left for college, Dad finally convinced us to surf with him for the summer, and Jude and I figured it was the old man’s last chance to hang with us before we were gone. We fell in love with it and went at least once a day in college. We were those crazy fuckers, freezing our asses off at five a.m. so we could get a good session in before class.”
“I love that,” I said, imagining Bodie running into the ocean in slo-mo with a board under his arm. “And then came the girls?”
“If I’d realized just how many girls, I’d have picked up surfing way sooner. Maybe then I could have stolen you away from Rod — that dick.”
“Ugh, he really was. Is?”
“Is. We’re still friends on social media. His Snapchat makes me want to fucking vomit.”
I felt squirmy at the mention of Rodney. We weren’t friends anywhere, not after he’d stretched my heart out to the point that it lost its shape.
I changed the subject. “Hey, I hate to ask, but I was so antsy to get over here that I didn’t eat after work. Do you have anything? I’m not picky. Popcorn will do. Cold cuts. Hot Pockets. Whatever you’ve got.”
“Yeah. We’ve got some frozen pizzas, I think.”
“Mmm. Totino’s?” I asked as we got up.
“Red Baron.”
“I’ll take what I can get, I guess.”
He laughed and headed back toward the bathroom, fooling around between his legs as he walked. “Gimme one second.”
“Take your time,” I said, my eyes on his ass, the top of which was exposed from his unfastened pants.
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen, leaning on the counter, musing.
My body purred like a kitten, thanks to him, and I found myself fluttery and smiley and absolutely happy. Bodie was good and he was fun and he was perfect. And I knew I was going to miss him when he was gone.
One more date, max.
I loathed the notion. I loathed it so deeply that I felt sick at the thought of not seeing him again.
He walked back in before I could think twice about it, smiling that goddamn smile that made my vagina spell his name in Morse code. I pushed my feelings away. I’d live in the moment. It was what I did best.
Bodie opened up the freezer and moved things around for a minute. “Bad news. No pizza.”
I frowned. “What have you got?”
More shuffling.
“A bag of peas, a half a bag of crinkle fries, and some popsicles with freezer burn.”
My frown deepened.
He closed the door and turned to lean on the other side of the island. “We could order one?”
“That’ll take forever and I’m starving. What are the odds of a PB and J?”
He smirked. “Pretty good. Just depends on your jelly preference.”
“Grape or strawberry?” I asked. This was a test.
He narrowed his eyes, recognizing the challenge. “Strawberry.”
“Good. If you’d said grape, the whole deal would have been off.”
He laughed and moved around the kitchen, gathering supplies.
“Wait, it’s smooth peanut butter, right?”
He shot me a look over his shoulder from the pantry. “Of course. We’re not animals, Penny.”
“Thank God. Proper PB and J has universal rules that must be honored.”
He laid everything out on the island between us. “So, how did you get into the tattoo business?”
“Well, I was always into art, you remember?”
He nodded as he set four slices of bread out on a cutting board.
“After graduation and Rodney dumping me, I just had to get out of Santa Cruz. My aunt lived here in Manhattan, so I crashed with her. She was tatted up like crazy. I went with her to get a few at Joel’s shop, and when I was waiting for her one time, sketching, Joel asked if he could take a look. I’d never considered the profession until he asked me if I’d be interested.”
Bodie smiled. “Kismet.”
I folded my hands on the countertop. “It kinda was. He gave me my first tattoo. This one.” I turned to show him the piece on my shoulder and upper arm. “Joel … he’s like a big brother to everyone at the shop, and he brought most of us in as apprentices and taught us everything he knows, which is a lot.”
“Like a big brother … not a big boyfriend?” Bodie asked, still smiling.
I laughed. “Oh, definitely not. He’s not my type, and plus, he’s engaged to the producer of our reality show, Annika.”
His hand stilled, peanut butter knife hanging midair. “Reality show?”
Another laugh. “I thought you might have known. Don’t watch much TV?”
He shook his head. “You’re on TV?”