“He looks pretty lost without you,” Robert tries to reassure me. I spy Landon looking around the room, with nobody to talk to. “Oh! That’s not my boyfriend. Mine is the one across the table—the one with the tattoos.” I watch as Robert looks at Hardin and Lillian and confusion sweeps over his soft features. Swirls of black ink peek out from the top of Hardin’s collared dress shirt. I love the way white looks on him; I love being able to see the hint of ink under the light-colored fabric. “Um, does he know he’s your boyfriend?” Robert asks, raising his eyebrow.
Ten points to Robert the Waiter
