So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter Seventeen - I Don't Care. I Had A Good Old Feel

While thinking this, I was staring at Tom, watching him grow more mournful. Then I saw a flash of silver in his mouth as he flicked something around.

“Tom, do you have your tongue pierced?” I asked, inching closer to him and the cold wind hitting the place where Rhys’s warm hand had been resting. I crawled next to him and he bobbed his head positively. He stuck his tongue out for me to see, and the silver barbell glinted in the light from the fire.

“Aye and I have my hips, nape and lip pierced as well, but no jewellery as my mam doesn’t like it.” Tom explained, looking even glummer than before.

“Do you have any tattoos?” I probed, licking my lips and frowning.

“I have a few, a koi fish on my ribs, a dragon from my left armpit that spans down to my ankle and a full sleeve of geisha’s.” He uttered, seeming to brighten up as he thought about his tattoos. I glanced down at his arms then, and realized that they were always covered. Probably because his mam doesn’t approve of his tattoos.

Tom closed his eyes then, and seconds later soft snored emitted from his slouched frame. I pushed myself up off the ground and went to return to my seat on the log next to Rhys. As I was stepping over his sprawled out legs, he reached out and pulled me into his chest and finally plopped me down on his left leg.

“Do you have any tattoos?” I asked Rhys, fondling a lock of his hair.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I might have a few that I kept skilfully hidden from you.” Rhys teased.

“But you’re in a gang; you have to have some tattoos!” I insisted, examining his bare forearms for any signs of ink.

“They’re not there, silly!” Rhys laughed, confirming that he did in fact have some in that sentence.

“Aw, please tell me what you have! I’ll do anything!” I pleaded, and it reminded me slightly of this evening when he wouldn’t pull over.

“Anything, hey? I like the sound of that. But I’ll tell you anyway. I have my mother’s face tattooed on my shoulder blade, and some important dates on my inner thigh. Then I have some I designed myself, and I have a picture I did myself also tattooed in a secret place which you will never know about.” He rambled, counting them off with his fingers.

“Can I see them?” I eagerly quipped, hopping up and down on his leg slightly and nearly toppling off.

“If you stop trying to kill yourself by flopping off my lap and into the fire, then you may. Now sit still and stop bouncing, it’s distracting. Go eat a marshmallow or something.” Rhys ordered, oblivious to the contradictions alone in that sentence. How am I supposed to sit still if I am now going to eat a marshmallow? Silly boy and he didn’t have anything to drink.

I undertook his suggestion and strode over to Miranda who was hogging the marshmallows. She was cuddling the bag and stroking the plastic wrapping while talking animatedly to a sober-ish Damon. She saw me approaching and waved merrily, her cheeks flushed with laughter.

“Annie! My dear, dear Annie! Hello! I think I’ve drunk too much, but would you like a marshmallow? Or has Rhys forbidden you from eating sugar?” She smiled, offering me the bag with a grin. I dug my fingers in there and dug around blindly, until I took out a handful. I nodded at Damon who looked pained next to Miranda and he returned my greeting with a watery smile. I crept back to my place, trying to contain the fluffy goodness in my hands. The delicious fluffy goodness.

I sat down on the log beside Rhys again, and he took a marshmallow from the cocoon of my fingers and popped it in his mouth

“Hey, if you wanted one, you should have walked all the way around to Miranda for one, instead of sending me, you lazy sod.” I chastised, raising a cynical eyebrow at him and he smiled angelically and pinched another marshmallow.