Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Surprisingly, Dad had shown up with Mom, which probably had everything to do with Bailey, who’d become like a cheerleader these past few months. Alex had invited his parents too, and that had been pretty cool, but it was awkward as well, having my stuff on display like that for the universe to see. Or at least students and families. But it felt huge, like I was exposing myself to criticism, and not just from my instructors. Scary stuff but good preparation for the real, brutal world.
Zoey seemed in awe the entire time, sticking close to Alex as he pointed out exhibits he liked. They’d grown closer since the holidays, and I was glad for it. We all had baggage and past hurts, and getting it out in the open only helped us heal.
Christ, who the hell had I become lately? Optimism was generally not my thing. But being with Alex had made my happiness meter spill over, and it was enough to keep my pessimism at bay.
“Plus,” Carter said, “our team could use some unity.” He smirked. “At least that’s how we convinced Coach to let us do this.”
Their season had been a good one, and they’d grown tighter as a team. Coach would’ve been all for them partaking in something as a group, though I’d bet tattoos were not the something he was expecting. The beach cleanup project Alex and I had participated in with the LGBTQ club might’ve pleased him more, or some other type of community service.
I’d admit it felt good to be part of that effort, and I’d absolutely volunteer again—without Alex twisting my arm.
But getting a tattoo felt damned good too.
“Even Bailey?” I glanced at my brother, who looked queasy.
“Uh-huh,” he replied around a tight throat.
I folded my arms. “Won’t Dad disapprove?”
“Clothes will cover it. At least out in public or if I end up working for him.” He shrugged, acting like he wasn’t completely freaking out inside. But I knew better.
Bailey and Dad had met for dinner during Christmas break to talk things out, and according to Bailey, Dad took ownership and apologized to him about his affairs. I didn’t know if I believed him at first, but at the next swim meet, Dad seemed a bit different. He was less arrogant and more conciliatory, and that’d been satisfying. After he’d made an early exit, Mom had a hushed conversation with me about how Bailey had apparently gotten to him. I supposed that was what it took for Dad to examine his own behavior more closely. For the child who thought he hung the moon to view him as a lot less shiny. Go figure.
“Mostly true,” I told Bailey, knowing that it depended on where the ink was located, but knowing him, it would be somewhere inconspicuous. “Not sure if we can accommodate all of you today, though.”
“I can help out, and so can Amanda,” Bruno said, motioning to where she was cleaning up her area after an appointment.
The swimmers high-fived each other, their excitement obvious, though Bailey still looked a bit wary.
“Who’s up first?” I asked.
“Alex, of course,” Jordan said, nudging him.
“Looks like I’m the guinea pig,” Alex replied. “We all want some variation of our sport represented.”
“Bet your coach liked that idea.”
“He was cool with it,” Bailey said.
“He had to be. Practically half the team is here,” Carter replied.
They laughed nervously, which told me it had taken some convincing. Likely, the other half were either graduating members or had no interest. Made sense.
“Don’t worry, it should be relatively fast and painless—though it depends on your tolerance, the location, and size of your tattoo.”
“Each person’s experience will be different,” Bruno added in that commanding voice that got everyone’s attention.
Bruno, Amanda, and I went to the front desk and discussed the specifics of how to tackle the group. This wasn’t anything new. Some nights brought groups of frat bros daring each other to get ink done. They could be annoying as fuck, but we accommodated them as long as they weren’t drunk off their asses. Alcohol and needles did not mix.
I led Alex back to my cubicle while Bruno sat the rest of them down to look at samples and answer questions.
Once I got Alex in the chair, I said, “You still good with what we decided?”
“Definitely.”
Alex wanted a series of waves to span the inside of his arm from his wrist to his elbow. He also wanted the words: Making waves embedded in them, which had surprised me. He said it was a tribute to us and what this year represented. But really, it was more about who he’d become—more confident, more comfortable in his own skin…more beautiful every day.
“I love it.” I pecked his lips. “I’ll have to change your name in my phone to Rebel.”
He rolled his eyes, but his shy smile made my stomach dip.