I swallow another mouthful. Then another. Before I know it, the bong is half empty, which I can tell from the ringed shadow on the outer edge.
I close the valve just long enough to take a proper breath, and dive back in. My throat burns and carbonation threatens to reverse up my nasal cavity, but I stay the course, taking down what I can.
There is no way people actually enjoy this. In fact, I want tomeet the person who thinks this is a good time because there’s no freaking way.
On my next oxygen break, I glance over at Flamingo Boy. From the looks of it, I got the better end of this deal. His face is the color of molten lava, and tears streak down his cheeks, but he only has one bite left.
I reopen the valve and chug like my life depends on it.
Come on, Washington. Don’t you dare quit.
I could never. Not when I’ve come this far. I breathe shallowly and open my throat to let the beer slide down. It’s an unpleasant sensation, but the instant the penis runs dry, I thrust it into the air, gasping for breath.
Beside me, Lexie and Kayla shriek, their words blending together. “Holy shit, girl! You did it! You actually freaking did it! We’re so proud of you!”
“We have a winner!” Camila grabs my hand and holds it up in the air like I just won a boxing match. “Let’s get a round of applause for our Beach Olympics champions!”
We preen for the audience and after Camila awards us our fake gold medals, she snaps a few pics to commemorate the auspicious occasion.
We’re celebrating at the bar with a fresh round of margaritas when Flamingo Boy appears at my side, looking sheepish. “So, about that tattoo.”
“What about it?” I grin and spin my stool toward him. My knee brushes his thigh, and an electrical current surges from the point of contact.
Somehow, he’s managed to get even sexier during our brief separation.
“I figured now was as good a time as any to settle our bet.” He quirks a brow, feigning confusion. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Not a chance.” I turn to Alejandro, who’s pulling a beer two stools over. “Where’s the best place to get a tattoo around here?”
“The only place to get a tattoo in Cancun is Alma Tattoo Studio.” He releases the tap and pours the head down the drain before handing the glass to one of his patrons. “It’s clean, and the artists are first class.”
I thank him and turn back to Flamingo Boy. “It sounds like we’re going to Alma Tattoo Studio.”
8
KNOX
The tattoo shopis bright and airy and, as promised, appears clean. All good signs, but tell that to the nervous energy coursing through my veins.
l know next to nothing about the woman who’s about to make her mark on my body—literally.
Tink was remarkably tight-lipped on the walk over, refusing to give even a hint of what she has in store for me.
Probably because she used up all her energy convincing her friends I’m not going to turn her into a skin suit.
“So many options,” she muses, admiring the designs that paper the far wall of the studio. She taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “How am I ever going to choose?”
Carefully, I hope. “Let’s just keep it PG-13, okay? And nothing offensive.”
A throaty laugh bursts from her lips, and she pats my biceps. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re regretting your life choices.”
“Only one.” I shrug. “But I’m a man of my word.”
She looks up at me from under her lashes, all traces ofamusement gone. “That’s an admirable quality. It sounds like your parents raised you right.”
The words land like a blow. For her, it’s a throwaway observation. For me, it’s a reminder of all I’ve lost. Fortunately, I’m saved from replying when one of the tattoo artists looks up.
“Hey, you looking to get some ink?”
