Don't Say Anything

57. Somewhere Better

Of course Will is awake before me. My eyes flutter open to see his now green ones looking down at me. His lips curve into a lazy smile as he runs his knuckles down my cheek.

"Hello there," he says in an incredibly sexy morning voice. How does he manage to look and sound perfect constantly?

"'Morning," I mumble burying my head back into his chest.

"You have plans today?"

I shake my head. I almost never have plans on Sunday. It's typically my sleep-in-and-hang-out-with-Will day. I would say it's my studying day, but it's probably a total of twenty minutes of him trying to teach me how to do math problems until he's throwing erasers at my head. He's a terrible teacher.

"Leah has already called me twice and texted asking if you are free for lunch in a couple of hours."

Damn. As much as I want to talk to Leah, I was really hoping Will had some crazy adventure planned.

"Today? Her wedding was just yesterday." I run my pointer finger around a tattoo of a cheetah on his rib cage.

"Leah doesn't waste time."

I can see him from the corner of my eye watching the path my finger takes. I follow a line of tattoos all the way to the arm before either of us talks again.

"They all mean something," he says as I trace over a fancy looking old fashion key.

"What about this one?"

"It means I have the power to control what happens in my life, no one else. I hold the key."

I smile at the explanation and move to the picture of a hand pointing to the side.

"This one?" I just notice now how detailed all of his tattoos are. Nothing is simple about this boy.

"It means I need to keep going. It's pointing to the side to remind me to continue moving forward. I got that one right before North Carolina. I probably could have used that reminder a little earlier. I felt like giving up a lot when I was in high school. I don't want to feel like that again."

I thought it was just a hand pointing sideways. I never knew each of these pictures held a hiding meaning. It adds a whole other layer to Will's personality.

I continue my investigation right to another picture that's always caught my attention.

"How about the umbrella?"

He sucks in a sharp breath. Does he not want to tell me? I look up into his eyes and they look guarded. His tattoos are apparently more important to him than I realized.

"It's, uhh, well, I don't know or remember a lot about my dad." Oh jeeze. This one's personal. "I was in seventh grade when he left officially, but he wasn't around a lot for many years leading up to that. But the one good memory I have about him is he would always hold my umbrella for me when we walked to the bus stop together in early elementary school."

I might start crying. Anytime Will talks about his past, it's utterly heartbreaking for me. I just imagine a little blue-green eyed boy with chocolate brown hair making his way to the bus stop in the California heat. Then I imagine him a year later, when his dad stopped hanging around, just standing by himself, holding his own umbrella.

"You look upset," he says tilting his face so it means his again. "It's supposed to be a happy memory, Jess."

"I know." I'm trying my best to hold back tears. Will doesn't like it when I cry over his past, so I attempt to act unaffected. "I'm just touched by it, that's all. It's a sweet thought."