It was just something he did, habitual maybe, necessary perhaps, comforting -most defiantly. She was used to it, don't think it was an infringement on her privacy or anything, she (of course) never made the first move- but she always complied.
At first, she thought it was about trust. Specifically Craig not trusting her - but then she realized it was more about intimacy than anything else.
She'd walk into his garage, his room, wherever to watch a movie or work on a song. He'd hug her, she'd take off her coat and then he'd reach over and roll up her sleeves. She'd even taken to wearing much neglected short-sleeved shirts under her jackets when she knew it would just be them.
He'd always give her a brighter smile and a deeper kiss when she took off her jacket and revealed tank-tops or t-shirts. It was therapeutic, not having to hide a part of herself, and even though when Marco or Jimmy walked in she'd yank her sleeves down, her jacket on, her arm warmers up- she felt liberated somehow.
She walked into the garage with a couple of cheesy horror flicks as promised and shed her coat. She knew something was wrong when he didn't acknowledge her presents.
"Craig?" She walked over, shook off her shoes and plopped down next to him.
She raised an eyebrow, "What's up?"
He turned to her, "Nothing…"
She looked at him, "You know you can tell me anything…"
"Yeah, yeah," he pulled her into a hug, a whole five minutes and her sleeves where still down. Shifting uncomfortably she rolled them up and placed his hand on the inside of her arm.
A genuine smile lit up his face, he brought her arm to his lips. His hands worked their way to her shirts hemline, lifting slowly. She lifted her hands above her head letting him slide the shirt off.
And all of a sudden it was about intimacy and trust…specifically her trusting him.