Chapter Seven
Juliette cocked her head to the side. “A confession?”
Morgan nodded, heart pounding, chest tight. She wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, she needed Juliette to know the truth. “First of all, I think your tattoo is absolutely gorgeous. It’s so delicate and detailed, it seems to move when you do. It’s captivating, but that’s not my confession.”
“It’s not?” Juliette was still staring at her, blond hair hanging in damp waves over her shoulders, brown eyes locked on Morgan’s. She was frustratingly hard to read sometimes, which only made Morgan even more tongue tied around her.
“The confession is that I’ve seen it before.
I’ve seen you before.” Morgan dropped her gaze to the royal blue sleeping bag beneath her, then forced herself to meet Juliette’s gaze again.
Juliette hadn’t moved, hadn’t reacted at all to Morgan’s words.
“Eight years ago, at another one of these friend gatherings. We’d rented a couple of houses on the Cape.
I thought you were just a random person on the beach, eating an ice cream cone. I didn’t know you were with our group.”
Still, Juliette didn’t react.
“I couldn’t stop staring at your tattoo, and I made a comment to Sierra like ‘Wow, look at that tattoo,’ and she was like, ‘I know, right?’ but then I realized she was looking at the guy beside you, and . . . that was the moment I knew for sure that I was attracted to women.”
Juliette blinked slowly. “My tattoo was your sexual awakening.” Her words weren’t a question, but her tone was hard to decipher. Did she really not remember meeting Morgan that day or the kiss they’d shared?
“Yes,” Morgan answered simply.
Juliette sat up, breaking their eye contact as she feathered a hand through Roux’s golden fur. “I have a confession too.”
Morgan gulped. “You do?”
Juliette kept her gaze on her dog. “I was in a bad car accident when I was ten. My parents and sister were there, too, and luckily we all survived, but we were trapped in the car for a while, scared and bleeding. The whole thing was really traumatizing, and I ended up with a lot of scarring on my left arm. People were always asking about the scars, so when I was eighteen, I got them covered with this tattoo.”
“Oh . . . oh wow.” Morgan placed a hand on Juliette’s shoulder, the nontattooed shoulder because it was closer and because touching Juliette’s tattoo felt too intimate right now. Whatever she might have expected from Juliette’s confession, this hadn’t been it. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Juliette finally looked up, her brown eyes brimming with emotion.
“The scars felt like an ugly reminder of a terrible day, and the tattoo felt like a way to change the narrative. I went with ivy because that’s what it does, right?
It creeps over surfaces, hiding whatever’s underneath, covering it with something new.
The tattoo was a means to an end. I never really thought of it being beautiful or .
. . or sexy.” Her voice dropped, as did her gaze, landing on Morgan’s lips.
“Well, it is.” Morgan felt breathless. She sounded breathless. “I couldn’t take my eyes off it . . . or you.” She sucked in a sharp breath, deciding to go for broke. “I still can’t.”
A soft gasp escaped Juliette’s lips. She leaned slightly closer, one hand still buried in Roux’s fur, the other poised in the air, as if waiting for permission to touch Morgan. Morgan grasped that hand, threading their fingers together as she held Juliette’s gaze.
Morgan’s pulse was racing now, a flush creeping over her skin as she and Juliette seemed to hang in suspended animation, their faces slowly gravitating toward each other over Roux’s sleeping form.
The air in the tent felt thick with lust and anticipation, so thick Morgan could practically taste it. Her breathing grew ragged.
Juliette’s eyes darkened as her pupils eclipsed the warm brown Morgan had been admiring. “Morgan . . .”
“Juliette,” she whispered as she leaned forward, closing the last few inches between them, desperate to taste Juliette’s lips, certain this kiss would be even better than the last. Her hand bumped Roux’s furry leg, and he startled, lurching upright.
His head slammed into Morgan’s chin, and she fell backward, landing hard on her ass.
“Oh my god. Are you okay?” Juliette was on her knees now, desire hidden by concern as she reached for Morgan, brushing her fingers over Morgan’s sore chin.
“Yes. Just . . . surprised,” Morgan managed, her voice rough.
Juliette huffed a quiet laugh as she sat back, returning some space between them. “Leave it to Roux.”
For a few seconds, they just stared at each other. The moment had been lost, and that loss sat heavily in Morgan’s chest. She had no idea what to say. How did Juliette feel about their almost kiss? Her expression was as hard to read as ever.
“The rain seems to have stopped, and I haven’t heard any thunder in a bit,” Juliette said finally. “We should probably start packing up to head back to the house before our friends get worried.”
Morgan nodded, helplessly bound by Sierra’s dare, when all she really wanted was to stay right here with Juliette. “Yes.”