“You do? Where?” His eyes are warming, reverting to the way they always look.
I pivot my body and lift my hair, revealing a tiny scorpion on the nape of my neck. “I’m a Scorpio.”
“Whoa. Sexy. Can’t believe I missed that. So are you into astrology? Or you just really like being a Scorpio?”
“Yeah, I love astrology. I’ve read a bunch of books on it.”
There’s a beat. His chest is rising and falling visibly. He bites his lip.
“Um, I wanna get a second one,” I say, still not sure how I’m supposed to proceed here. “But I’ve just never been able to decide on something that would be meaningful enough—something I’d want ’til the end of time.”
“Well, that’s silly. There’s no such thing as ‘’til the end of time.’ Just get what you like right now. That’s all we have, no matter what story we tell ourselves to make us feel better.”
There’s a long beat. Damn. He’s kinda dark.
His eyes flicker. “I don’t wanna sit here and talk about my fucking feelings all night long, okay? Just forget I ever said all that shit to you, okay? Don’t ask me about it—just put it out of your head, okay? Please.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“For... I dunno. Forcing you to spill your guts if you didn’t want to.”
“You didn’t force anything. I’m a grown-ass man.” He pauses a long time. “I shouldn’t have told you all that. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m a grown-ass woman. I told you in my application—I want to know the real you. I don’t want Happy Josh. I want Real Josh.”
He stares at me for a long beat. “So, as far as a second tattoo for you goes, my advice is don’t overthink it. My brother always thinks his ink has to make some earth-shattering statement about the meaning of life.” He scoffs. “But you can waste half your life trying to be all deep and profound all the time. The bottom line is we’re all gonna die—so who gives a shit if you die with ‘YOLO’ stamped on your ass or not?”
My stomach is somersaulting. This is not the fun-loving Josh I’ve come to know.
He motions to my half-eaten plate of food. “You done with that, PG?”
I nod.
He grabs the half-eaten burger off my plate and polishes it off and then clears my plate of all leftover French fries, too. “You want another drink?”
“Thanks.”
He gets up and puts our empty plates on a table and then moves behind the bar, his glorious body on full, dazzling display. “So, okay,” he says, opening a bottle. “Where the fuck can I find this Garrett Bennett fuckwad? Because I swear to God I wanna hunt him down and beat the fucking shit out of him.”
I don’t reply. He suddenly looks different to me.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Josh says, his jaw pulsing. “See? This is exactly why I don’t talk about any of this shit. Now you’re looking at me funny. I don’t like it.”
“I’m not looking at you funny.”
He scoffs. “This isthe real me, Kat.” He motions to his bare torso. “What you see is what you get—a wise and powerful man with a huge cock.”
There’s a long beat.
Josh clenches his jaw. “So, back to Garrett Asshole Bennett. Why do you care if that guy said you aren’t ‘marriage material,’ Kat? He was obviously a total prick.”
I swallow hard. I’ve never talked about Garrett Asshole Bennett with anyone. I’ve always been too ashamed at what an idiot I was. I open and close my mouth, struggling to find words.
“What does it matter what some total douchebag said about you?” Josh persists. He pours something into two glasses on the bar. “You’re awesome, Kat. A beast. He was obviously dead wrong about you.”
My heart is pounding in my ears. Did Josh just indirectly call memarriagematerial?
