Next To You: A Friends To Lovers Romance (The Next Series Book 2) by Hannah Bonam-Young

Author:Hannah Bonam-Young [Bonam-Young, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2022-11-29T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“What about this one?” Matt points to the orange slice tattoo next to the crook of my arm. For the past few hours, between fetching us snacks and water, he’s been inquiring about each of my tattoos. Which has led to several lovely but entirely mindless conversations. So far, our list of topics, the memorable ones at least, includes rabbit caretaking, which Disney villains are hot (out of the films Matt has seen), and what animal we would be if we got to choose at reincarnation (if such a thing exists).

I picked a rabbit that belonged to Matt following my excellent tutorial. He chose an otter because physical touch is his love language, and they’re apparently cuddly.

That led to a discussion about love languages. I learned that mine could perhaps be receiving gifts—which made me feel a little shallow. Matt was adamant it was just as valid as the other options.

Then the topic of exes, which was brief. Matt had a girlfriend for almost a year while he was in trade school. She was also training to be a mechanic—which caused my mind to flash to Megan Fox in Transformers, spiking mass amounts of jealousy—but Matt said there weren’t strong feelings involved on his part. He’d never say it, but I get the sense he sort of fell into a relationship when she expressed feelings, and he was too shy to say no.

“That one.” I tap his thumb, gently brushing the orange slice tattoo. “I just thought it was cute.”

He sighs, pouting like a kid.

“Sorry, most of the answers will be that.”

“No, no. It does look cute. They all do. I guess I’m just hoping for some secrets or deeper meanings. Like they’re some sort of window into your inner workings.”

“Well, the little heart on my butt is a secret to most people.”

“I really like that one.”

“And this one.” I point to my thigh. “Has a special meaning.”

He traces the lighthouse tattoo with his fingers, delicately, like he’s worried he could rub it off. “Guiding light?”

“Guiding light,” I answer. I’m not surprised he remembered the story about my parents. He’s thoughtful like that, but hearing him clarify in two words makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

“I love this one,” he says, circling it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re all great. How many do you think you have now?”

“About thirty. They’re all great? Even the little ghost-sheet guy?”

“Especially the ghost. It’s got gothic book vibes.”

“Would you ever get a tattoo?”

“They’re pretty common in Samoan culture, so I’ve considered getting one. My mother’s brothers and father all had the same tattoo on their forearm, a tribal mark. I’ve thought about getting that a lot.”

Had. “Had?” I ask softly.

“There was a fire. When my mom was nineteen. She was out at a friend’s. The rest of her family didn’t make it.”

“Her entire family?” I sit up, wide-eyed. “All of them?”

Matt sits up too. “Well, not her grandmother. She was in England getting an experimental treatment for this rare type of cancer.”

“Fucking hell.”

Matt nods before rubbing down his beard.

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