"Finn, here?" she asked, but I answered by moving my mouth from her neck to her lips. Who cared if there were other people around? Half of the couples were probably making out anyway from the sheer boredom of listening to the band. My hand slid down her jean-clad leg, frustrated that I couldn't touch her flesh.
I broke away from her mouth and felt a flush of ego-stroking satisfaction when her lips clung to me as if she couldn't bear to part. "These bands are really terrible," I said. "We should go right now."
"What? You can't go. I want you to hear this guy sing." Adam dropped down beside us. I felt his heavy weight pull the blanket.
"You have terrible timing, man," I complained.
"Sorry, not sorry. You can't go now."
"I want to stay too," Winter chimed in.
I groaned and fell back onto the blanket and willed my hard-on to recede.
10
WINTER
"What happened to the twins?" I asked Adam, who was eying me speculatively. Finn had left to get us something to drink. He said he was thirsty, and I tried not to tense when he mentioned a beer to Adam, but I think he still noticed.
"They thought I was playing tonight, and when I told them no, they wandered off to find someone who was in a band."
"You don't sound broken up about it."
"That's the nature of these types of hookups. They don't involve feelings, so no one's nose gets out of joint if there's a better offer out there." He looked up at the darkening sky, his hands tucked behind his head. "Of course, there's no better offer than me, but I can't be casting my pearls before swine."
"Definitely not."
"Is Adam telling you his relationship philosophy?" Bo asked. I noticed he'd pulled his blanket closer to us, but as I looked around, I saw it was a necessity. The park was filling up.
"It's not a philosophy. That would assume I put thought into it. It's a lifestyle choice. Each day I live, I choose," Adam replied.
AnnMarie looked at him, her expression mixed with fondness, amusement, and a little pity. "Finn says you design tattoos for a living. Have you done any of Adam's?"
There was a tingle of excitement at the idea of Finn talking with his friends about me. "No, not yet. Adam's artwork is done mostly out of town. He's too good for us."
"Hey, if you'd been working when I started getting my ink, it would have all been done by you," Adam replied, still not moving from his cloud-watching position. "But I've still got a blank space. What would you design for me?"
I looked over his skin, at least the part I could see. He had several designs on his upper arms, although none on his forearms. There weren't any on his neck, but his left brow was pierced at the corner, and I saw the flash of metal when he spoke sometimes so I knew he had a tongue bar too. "Where would you want it?"
"Isn't the first question ‘What do I want?’"
"Not necessarily. Where you want a design often determines the type. What looks good on your arm isn't going to look the same on your shoulder, back, or leg."
"What would you draw for me?" AnnMarie asked.
"I've some ideas," Bo muttered.
Laughing, I said, "Property of?"
Bo raised his eyebrows in question to AnnMarie, who pushed him playfully. "No, I'm not getting ‘Property of Bo Randolph’ stamped on my body."
"Why not?" he protested. "We could get matching ones. I'll have ‘Property of AnnMarie West' tattooed on my arm right here." He pointed to his big biceps. He'd be able to fit a couple of names in that space.
“We tattooed a girl’s butt once. Well, not her butt exactly, more lower and private.”
“Her ass hole?” AnnMarie made it into two words in her horrified delight.
I nodded. “‘Property of’ in a circle. It was the nicest bleached hole I’d ever seen.”
Bo looked intrigued, but AnnMarie shook her head no.
"What about a picture of Thor's hammer. It would be more discreet," she suggested.
"I see the resemblance, now that you say it," I said.
AnnMarie wiggled her eyebrows at me. "Nice, isn't he?" She petted his hair like he was her tame lion, and maybe he was because he leaned into her hand, clearly enjoying her touch. And no matter how many cute girls walked by, he never looked away from her once. It was clear he was smitten.
"What would you do for Finn? An angel?"
"Like in Buffy?" I asked. "Isn't he the blond one?"
"No, that's Spike. Angel was David Boreanaz. He's now on Bones." This contribution was from another girl—a brown-haired one who was nicely plump and towing a very good-looking tall male behind her. The girl sat down breathlessly next to AnnMarie. "Sorry we're late. Had to shower."