Finding Obsidian

16 - Hanker Sore

I froze, staring at the cover in shock.

The image of a young girl and boy took up the paper binding, and I felt waves of nostalgia wash over me. The two children were smiling at each other with the sort of heartbreaking innocence only found in fiction. It looked so professional, like a real book. Nothing like the hand-drawn pile of pages I recalled from my childhood.

Did . . . did he make this? I thought dazedly. He must have—it was in his apartment, lying on his floor. He'd been reading it after pulling it out of storage sometime recently, that much was clear. But even so, I couldn't fathom why he'd have it in the first place.

I flipped through the book, still gaping in disbelief. It was all there, the whole story. I couldn't help but bark out an incredulous laugh. Despite my assertions that he remembered, I hadn't known how much. But refurbishing that old story we'd written together? There could've been no clearer sign—he knew as much as I did.

Everything.

"What are you doing here?"

My head snapped up to see Rian standing in the doorway of his bedroom. His voice was gruffer than usual, and I couldn't help but notice how well the just-rolled-out-of-bed look suited him. Until my gaze drifted downward and my mouth went dry.

"Uhh . . . " I stumbled, my eyes glued to his shirtless chest. "Clothes?"

He glanced down, seeming to only just realize all he had on was a pair of low-slung sweatpants. I felt my cheeks redden against my will, but I was having trouble turning my eyes away. Why bother with jeans at all? Sweatpants suit him, I thought absently. They hooked onto the V of his hips, and accentuated his abs in exactly the right—

Wait. Abs?

"No way!" I exclaimed, raising my eyebrows in surprise. "You have abs? As in real, actual, visible abdominal muscles? Since when?"

Rian frowned. "What?"

My eyes widened as I spotted a dark shape on his skin. My pulse quickened, though I wasn't totally sure why. "And is that a tattoo?"

Curling around his hipbone was a black inky tendril, split into jagged edges towards the end. The rest of it was hidden underneath the waist of his sweatpants, but I'd seen enough to know it matched another, separate tattoo that wound around his upper left arm.

"Oh, and there's another one," I breathed, very affected by this new discovery. "As if you could have gotten even more . . ." I shook my head, feeling like I needed a cold shower. "And now you have. Great."

Rian ran a hand through his hair in annoyance. I could only watch enchantedly as the tattooed ink rippled over his lean muscles. "What are you talking about?"

I wasn't listening. "Well that's just not fair," I muttered a little irritatedly, my stare still roaming over him. My childish anger grew with every second I studied his infuriatingly majestic form. "You ever hear of the term 'hanker sore?'"

"No. How is that relevant?"

"Look it up. You'll get it."

Rian sighed in frustration. "God, you never change," he muttered.

I didn't hear him, too caught up in my own umbrage. "But seriously, it's not right!" I continued in indignation. "The face, eyes, abs, smarts, tattoos—god, what don't you have?" I raised my gaze to his face again. "Other than your memory, that is."

He glared at me darkly. "You—" he began, but he was interrupted by a series of coughs. Oh, right, I thought a bit guiltily. He's sick. Forgot about that.