Page 182 of Swallow Your Sorries

“Do you know why Bae always wears a turtleneck under his blazer?”

I had wondered about that, but I figured it was just his fall fashion. “Because winter’s approaching and it’s getting colder?”

“He wears them all spring and all summer too. At least while he’s on campus.”

I’m intrigued now. “Why?” I ask, giddiness in my tone.

“He’s covered in tattoos. It started with one in year ten, and well now he’s a whole collage. Last year he was able to get away with just a long-sleeved shirt. Now that his neck is tatted, he’s forced to wear turtlenecks. I don’t think his family even knows. He rarely sees them.”

I gasp, trying to envision a shirtless Bae without making it obvious. The idea of it already made my stomach erupt with butterflies. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any sexier… Gant’s threat of the greenhouse springs to the forefront of my mind and I clear my throat, feigning disinterest.

“What’s the point of getting them just to cover them up then?”

“No visible tattoos are allowed on campus. Even for Swim. No one knows but us, though I’m sure others have suspected it… or eczema.”

“So, why are you telling me?”

He shrugs. “It’s the first thing that crossed my mind.”

I smile. “It’s working. Tell me something else.”

“Your eyes are pure emerald in the sunlight. There’s a tiny heart formation on your left cheek in freckles. Your hair shines copper in the sun and the tips of those wispy baby hairs around your hairline glow gold.”

I swallow.

“Your lips are the same rosy pink as your nipples and your pretty pussy too.”

My heart thunders, heat pooling between my thighs. “I meant something Idon’tknow.”

He leans in and kisses me. “I could kiss both for hours.”

“Something I don’t know,” I say again between kisses.

“I want you to be more than just my doll.”

“Your slave?” I quip.

But Gant never gets to tell me how much more he wants from me because padding footsteps interrupt us and I look up to see Zoi carrying two duffel bags. Mine is in his mouth and Gant’s is slung across his back.

“Bae knows best,” Gant says, rubbing Zoi’s snout and freeing him of both duffels.

With the sky darkening and the wind picking up I’m so damn cold that I can practically hear my bones rattling despite Gant’s warmth.

When he offers me his hoodie, I’m damn sure not about to say no, but I quickly change my mind when he unzips his gym bag and pulls the white jacket out. Well, it’s supposed to be white, but it’s nearly black, crawling with afuck tonof baby spiders that makes me jump from his arms as they start to creep up his bicep. Again, one spider is one thing.

Gant, on the other hand, doesn’t seem remotely repulsed or surprised. In fact, he seems downright amused that his bag is infested with arachnids.

“Étienne.”

Elle

Burnt.

That’s all I feel about my one and only true love, ballet.

I feel burnt up and burnt out.

The wax is nearly gone; the wick is nearly gone, but I’m desperately holding onto what little spark I have left to get through auditions.

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