He laughed again. “You have fans.”
“I do. So strange,” I said with an echoing laugh. “Otherwise though, it’s kind of fun. I like to show people what it’s like in the shop, and our show is different from the other parlor reality shows — we don’t focus too much on our personal lives. Sometimes it’s unavoidable though. Like when Annika and Joel started banging on the sly. They had this huge blowup on film. Like, Joel ripped a camera out of a guy’s hands and threw it across the shop.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I saw that episode. I bet that wasn’t cheap.”
My mouth popped open. “You watched it?”
He nodded, smiling with his lips together. “I did. Is that weird?”
“Not at all. What’d you think?”
“Well, I binge-watched it in a day, so I guess you could say I liked it all right.”
I chuckled as my cheeks warmed up.
“I liked seeing you work. And I liked your pink hair, too. But I think I like the purple better.” He ran a strand through his fingers.
I sighed, smiling like a fool. But it was gone in a poof when I remembered I had to leave. “What time is it?”
He shifted to look, not letting me go. “Four thirty.”
I groaned. “I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.”
He laughed, kissing my forehead before he let me go. “What are you sorry for?”
I peeled myself off the bed and moved around the room, putting on my clothes and gathering my things as I spoke. “Bailing so soon. I really do wish I could stay.”
“Penny, you can come over for a quickie anytime you want.”
He was propped up in bed, smiling back at me in a way that made me want to jump right back into bed with him.
In fact, once I was dressed — somehow in my mind, clothes could actually stop us from having sex again — I did climb back in bed to lie on my stomach next to him with a smile on my face and a secret in my hand.
“I got you something,” I said mysteriously.
One of his brows rose with one corner of his lips. “Oh?”
I nodded and extended my hand, opening it to reveal a calculator watch.
He busted out laughing and took it, holding it up for inspection. “Where did you get this?”
“Chinatown. I was there buying hair dye and thought of you.”
“I love it.” He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss me. “What color hair dye did you get? Thinking about switching things up?”
“Oh, I think I’m happy where I’m at for now.” I raised my feet into the air and crossed my ankles behind me. “I’m off tomorrow. Maybe we can see each other?” My eyes trailed over the tattoo on his arm and shoulder, which flickered as he put the watch on.
It capped his shoulder and ended mid-bicep, an octopus drawn to look like a Victorian-era etching, framed by swirling waves in the same style. He had a few other smaller pieces, but this one was my favorite.
“Yeah, I’ll be around.”
I touched his arm, tracing the artwork. “You got these done in LA, I’m guessing?”
“Venice Beach. Do you approve?”
“Mmhmm,” I hummed, admiring it.
“Good. I’d hate to think I got ripped off.”
I chuckled. “Does it mean anything in particular?”
He shifted to look at it. “I’ve always thought octopuses were interesting. They’re the smartest creatures I’ve ever come in contact with. My dad caught one once and put it in our tank at home — he was always bringing home starfish and sea cucumbers and fish to add to the tank. I named him Stephen, and he was an escape artist. I’m pretty sure he was a whiz at game theory too.”
I laughed, and he trailed a finger down my arm. “How about yours?”
“Mostly they have stories, but some are just pretty, like the flowers on my stomach. Ramona, Veronica, and I all have tiny tacos here.” I pointed at the little line drawing of a taco about the size of a dime on the front of my shoulder. “Because what says friendship more than tacos?”
He let out a little laugh through his nose.
“This one is for my aunt.” I ran my fingers over the two elephants that wound around my forearm, the smaller one holding the bigger one’s tail. “She collected elephant things. After she died, I sketched this up, and Ronnie tattooed me. Now I can carry her around all the time. Elephants don’t forget.”
His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Pen.”
“It’s okay. Cancer fucking sucks,” I said with a small smile, not wanting to get into it. “This one is self-explanatory.” I held up my arm to expose the inside of my bicep where it said, Oh yes I can.
“What about this one?” He touched the Latin running down the back of my other arm.