He sighs and pulls the back of his shirt up over his head, stopping when it gets down to his elbows. My eyes get stuck on his stomach, the bit of chest hair I can see. This is probably obvious by now, but there’s a lot of man on that man. He looks up at me, all bare shoulders and tousled hair, a wry expression on his face. “We came for matching tattoos.”
EATING MY SHOE
