Page 30 of Drawn Together

“I have a full sleeve on my arm. That’s not enough?”

“I get the feeling you have more tattoos than you’re telling me.”

“I might have a few more.”

“How many in total?”

“Just three others.”

“Will you show me one day?”

“Definitely not,” he answered, although I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his face.

That brief moment of conversation was followed by an hour of suffering. The tattoo was small, but it consisted of intricate details and line work. Even though I hated every second of it, I didn’t back out. In fact, I was so excited when I finally sat up, covering my breasts with the sheet, and saw it in the mirror.

“I love it,” I said, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m going to cover it up now. For the next week, you’ll need to wash it three times every day with unscented soap and apply a dab of antiseptic lotion. I’ll give you the name of a good one.”

“Thank you,” I said, unable to stop looking at it.

They left me alone so I could get dressed, but I took my time, admiring the tattoo in the mirror. Eventually, after a few minutes, I left the room and paid. Two hundred dollars didn’t seem like a lot for a ballet dancer on her toes, arms in fifth position. She’d come out perfect.

We left the tattoo parlor, walking back to where we’d parked the car. I was still on cloud nine, and still very much curious about Sebastian’s tattoos.

“Why a full sleeve?”

“Once you start, it’s hard to stop.”

I stood in front of him, blocking his path. “Will you let me see them?”

Sebastian hesitated for a few seconds. “It’s late.”

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get him to divulge something so personal.

“Did it hurt?”

“No,” he admitted as he picked up his pace. “I have a high tolerance for pain.”

His response surprised me, but I let it go.

“When did you get your first one?”

Sebastian looked down at me for a few seconds. “At sixteen.”

“You were a baby! Your parents let you?” He didn’t answer, and I froze, realizing that I’d just put my foot in my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I never even met them.”

My God, Sebastian Moore revealed something about his past.

“What happened to them?”

“I don’t know.”

His tone told me that it was best to stop prying.

I felt sad as we got in the car, the adrenaline of the tattoo draining out of me as I remembered my mother. I also hated that Sebastian had grown up without a mother, too. Without anyone, really.