I listen as the spray cuts on. I close my eyes and I follow him through the process. I hear the rings slide along the rod as he pulls back the shower curtain, and then again as he likely closes it behind him. All too clearly, I can imagine him stepping, naked, into the stall, taking a bar of soap, so white against his tanned skin, and rubbing it over his chest and stomach. I can picture the beads of water traveling down his back and over his perfectly-curved butt. There’s very little that I can’t picture with absolute clarity. Very little. But the part I want to see most is the part I can’t imagine.
My eyes are still closed when the water shuts off. I hear the soft friction of the towel against his skin and I can imagine him securing it around his waist as he runs his fingers through his hair to straighten it.
The fan in the bathroom becomes louder and I open my eyes. Hemi is standing in the open doorway, wrapped in nothing but a towel.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No, just…thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” he asks, walking casually to the bed and stretching out across the end, leaning on one elbow, facing me. He crosses his feet at the ankle and waits, his expression patiently interested.
“Skin,” I answer in honesty. I just don’t tell him that I was thinking about his skin in particular. I hurry to continue. “I was thinking about what it would feel like to draw on it.”
“Wanna practice?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m sure there’s a pen in here. You can draw something on me if you like. It’ll wash off.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure. What else is there to do?”
I can think of several ways to answer that, but I voice none of them. I’ve got white gunk on my leg, I haven’t showered all day, and my hair is a mass of saltwatered tangles.
“Is there something particular you’d like me to draw?”
Hemi gets up and walks to the desk, returning with a pen that boasts the hotel name. “Hmmm, well, I’ve been thinking about getting ‘Live, no regrets’ tattooed on my right side. Lettering that has some kick ass points. Nothing too ornate. Maybe some design that looks like tribal art coming off the L and the G. I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to sketch it out since…well, for a while now. You’re welcome to give it a shot.”
“Okay,” I say, warming to the idea. “Is that your life motto or something?”
“It was…someone else’s. Someone that I used to know.”
Something in his voice leaves me with no doubt that the topic is closed for discussion. But that same something in his voice makes me want to explore it, to see if this is what he escapes from in his art. And if it’s about a woman. Maybe the woman he used to sleep beside. And have breakfast with. So long ago.
I put those disconcerting thoughts out of my head as I sit up in bed, thinking about the logistics of making this work. “How can I…I mean, where will you…”
“Are you right or left handed?”
“Right.”
“Perfect. Roll up onto your left side and I’ll come lie in front of you.”
I scoot over in the bed and roll onto one side, like Hemi suggested. I assumed he’d put his back facing me to give me access to his right side. I’m flustered and more than a little excited when he stretches out facing me, resting his head on my leg just below my jellyfish sting and slinging his arm over my waist, leaving his ribs open to me.
Hemi looks up at me, his eyes like pools of turbulent, dark blue waters. “I can be very…accommodating.”
“Yes, you can,” I say, unimaginatively, my nerves stretched taut. “I hope you aren’t ticklish.”
“Only in one spot, but you won’t be getting anywhere near that with your pen,” he says with a wink.
I feel my face flush and, again, I curse the fact that I’m such a mess. What a perfect opportunity this would be otherwise. I clear my throat and put all my focus into what I’m about to draw on Hemi.
When the pen first touches his skin, it skips along. I rub the tip over my palm to loosen it up before getting it back into position. The first few strokes feel odd. I’ve never drawn on someone else’s skin before. In fact, I’ve never even written on my own skin. But it gets easier the more I get into it.
Before long, I’m gliding over skin and skimming over bone as I draw letters and swirls. I get so absorbed in it, I find myself going back to do some shading and adding some personal little touches to it.
I have no idea how long I’ve been at it when I finish, but I look down at Hemi and he’s just watching me. Quietly. Intently.
“All done.”
“You really do get lost in your art, don’t you?”
I smile to hide my embarrassment. “Yeah, I kinda do.”
“We’ve got a lot in common.”
I nod. I don’t know what to say to that. It makes me happy to hear him admit it, though.
Hemi’s eyes search mine. In them, I usually see either heat or a teasing light, but right now neither is the case. They seem…troubled. Like he’s conflicted about something. I wonder if he doesn’t want to have so much in common with someone else. I wonder if he doesn’t want to let someone in, let someone get close.
Without another word, Hemi moves away from me and slides off the bed to saunter into the bathroom. With the door open, I can see him examining my work in the mirror. He runs his fingers over some of the details, but says nothing. And his eyes, his eyes are still guarded. I get more anxious by the second.
Finally he returns to the main room. “This is good, Sloane. Really good.”
I exhale and give him a shy smile. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble learning to tattoo.”
“Really?”
“No trouble at all.”
I sit up in bed, gathering courage for what I’m about to ask. It will require more of a commitment from Hemi and I’m not sure he’ll agree to it. Saying he’ll teach me to tattoo is different than being, like, a preceptor.
“Here’s the thing. I’m in my senior year at UGA and not only do I have Advanced Figure Drawing and Anatomy this semester, but I also have a drawing elective that can contain a practical aspect if I get it cleared through my professor. Would you, um, would you be willing to be my preceptor? I could use my experiences with you as drawing and anatomy in a practical sense. From what some of the others in my classes are doing, I think this would be acceptable, and it would kill two birds with one stone.”