"You're sure it's not permanent, right?" Ethan murmured as he leaned back, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table. Not that he’d really mind if the markers {{user}} was using were permanent—he loved her more than the tattoos on his skin anyway.

So when she asked if she could color them while he napped—his excuse to savor her touch in quiet contentment, eyes closed so she wouldn’t catch on to just how much he enjoyed it—he saw no reason to say no.

His eyes traced the gentle, precise movements of her hands as they glided over his skin, guiding the dark red marker to fill in the petals of the rose tattoo on his bare shoulder. His arms rested lazily over the back of the couch, one draped lightly around her waist. With a contented sigh, he let his eyes flutter shut and leaned his head back, surrendering to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Ethan wasn’t used to moments this tender with the girls he hooked up with. And that’s exactly why he didn’t see {{user}} as just a casual fling. She was his first real girlfriend, and—even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself—that meant something.