Side Note: I Think I Love You (Side Notes Book 1) - COMPLETE

Chapter 14 - Attie

That was probably the most invigorating thirty seconds of my day.

Scratch that—my entire life.

I was only teasing him when I said that I could easily change his mind about painting. What I didn't expect was for about ten percent of my paint to go to waste on an all-out, kid-like, painting frenzy, where my entire room became a mess.

Okay, not my entire room—that's being a little dramatic—but Ian and I are definitely covered in paint.

Head-to-toe, covered in acrylics.

In fact, his once all-white shirt now looks like a rainbow got plastered, ate one too many edibles, and then projectile vomited all over him. I don't even think I look that bad.

"Oh shit, you're shirt," I say. "The paint probably transferred through."

Ian blinks himself out of his stupor and looks down at his shirt. "I'll be fine. Why don't you worry about yourself?"

I shake my head. "No way, Ian. I have plenty of experience with paint splatters." I gesture to my shirt. There was already dried paint all over it from last week so it doesn't look so bad. Most of the acrylic paint got on my bare arms, legs, and face, with a little on my hair. Thankfully, it's easy to remove. "On skin, it's not so harsh but most of the paint is on your shirt."

"Thanks for that astute observation," he mumbles.

"At least get a shirt from Jason," I suggest. "He won't mind." Jason wears tight-fitting shirts and hoodies anyway. I doubt he cares about most of the loose shirts he's bought from the family vacations we've had.

"Princess, it's alright."

"Ian, it's my fault. Please let me help." He offered to paint Andy's mirror with me so the least I can do is help him get changed.

Ian's face softens and he finally agrees to let me help. That doesn't take me by surprise. However, I do not expect him to do exactly this: to remove his paint-splattered shirt from his body—with one hand, mind you—and give me a full-on IMAX screening of his abs. And he does exactly that.

Oh, sweet Apollo of the flaming chariot.

Of course, I know he has abs and is objectively attractive—maybe not a full Adonis but still toned to the nines. I had just never seen them before. It's similar to a relative you've never met. You know they exist but you can't put a visual to them. That is what this guy's abs were to me.

And the script on his abdomen. Wait a minute—

"Did either of us use black paint?"

Ian shakes his head. "No, why?"

I tilt my head to the right. "No reason." My eyes can barely trace the black writing because—just as I predicted, some of the paint on his shirt transferred onto his bare chest and torso. But if we didn't use black paint for the mirror and the events that followed, then the writing on his body can only mean one thing.

Ian Bale—teenage all-American quarterback, Captain America reincarnate—has a tattoo. And not just those bold temporary tattoos you can find on Amazon. I mean the real deal.

"That's a new sight."

A confused expression appears on his face but then fades away when he looks down and finds what I'm staring at. "Never had someone read my body like a book before."

"That sounds like a lie..." My voice trails off as I try to read the letters on his body. Is that a vowel? Maybe it's a T...

"Princess, you can just ask me about it," Ian laughs as he balls up his shirt.