Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
But she just shook her head, pressing her tongue into her cheek as she scrutinized me. “That actually works for you, doesn’t it?”
She looked almost sorry for me as she pushed past, and all the playfulness died with that look. I closed my eyes, internally groaning at the idiotic comment as my hand shot out, catching the crook of her elbow and spinning her back around before she could reach the door.
“Wait,” I said.
She shook me off. “Stop touching me.”
“Sorry.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “For the bedroom comment, too. It’s been a long day and I was just—”
“Joking. Yes, I’m aware,” she said, folding her arms over her chest again. I thought she was going to lay into me, but she just fell silent, her eyes flicking between mine.
I shifted under that lingering gaze.
“What happened?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You said it’s been a long day. What happened?”
I sighed, raking a hand back through my hair as I looked away from her and out the bay window. “Just some media bullshit.”
Mary frowned. “What’d you do?”
I chuckled. “Why do you automatically assume I did something?”
All she did was arch a brow.
“Some sorority girl wrote a story about me being a player, essentially,” I said, shrugging. “The twenty-seven exes of Leo Hernandez.”
“Twenty-seven, huh?” Mary let out a little whistle. “Impressive. All in the same sorority?”
“Of course not. I’m not a monster.” I grinned. “I try to keep it to five per house.”
It was a joke, one that came so easily from me I was almost surprised. Almost being the key word, because it was easier for this front to slip out than anything close to the truth.
It was clear to me that the way I presented myself was exactly how Mary saw me, too, when she rolled her eyes.
“So, the article is accurate, then?”
“What do you think?” I challenged.
She tilted her head a bit to the side, and again, I felt myself want to fidget under the weight of her gaze. The longer it lingered, the more I felt like she was stripping me down without my permission.
“I think you’ve gotten really good at playing the part.”
Her words shocked me silent, all traces of humor leaving me at the sound of them. “What part is that?”
The corner of her mouth tilted up, but then she dropped her gaze, fishing her keys out of her purse. “I have to run. I have some laundry in the dryer, but I’ll take care of it later.” She pointed a key at me, then. “Don’t touch it.”
“What, you don’t want us to do something nice for our new roommate like fold her clothes?”
“I don’t want one of you perverts stealing my panties.”
“Oh, now there’s an idea…”
“Leo,” she threatened, poking that key out even more.
I chuckled. “Don’t worry, your thongs are safe. Now, your hot pink friend upstairs, on the other hand…”
Mary sucked her teeth before turning on her heels and swinging out the front door. “GOODBYE.”
I smiled until she was gone, thankful she left on a more playful note.
But once she was gone and the house was silent, that smile slipped.
And her words replayed in my mind for the rest of the night.
Mary
I never thought I’d be so happy scrubbing a toilet, but here I was with rubber gloves, bleach, and a giant ass grin on my face.
Because today, I would get to tattoo skin.
Not fake skin, not a grapefruit, not my skin — but a real live human being who trusted me enough to lay permanent ink into their body.
It was all I could do not to hum and skip around the shop as I cleaned, making sure it looked pristine from the moment the client walked through the door all the way back to the bathroom. I sanitized the iPads at the front desk, tidied up all the artist stations, swept and mopped and ordered the supplies we were running low on. All the while, the shop buzzed with conversation between artist and client, bass-heavy deep house music playing as a background to all of it.
“Mary, do you know where the—”
I handed a fresh bottle of black ink to Tray before they could finish their sentence, and they chuckled, taking it out of my hand.
“Don’t know where we’d be without you,” they said, the light gleaming off their turquoise hair.
“I’m sure you’d find someone else who could stock the shelves.”
“Maybe. But no one else who could organize our lives the way you do.”
With one last smile, Tray skipped over to where their client was waiting, and I beamed under the praise even if I knew it was superficial. Anyone could do my job, really, except for the tattooing part. But that was only really starting today.
Today.
I was tattooing skin today!
With more pep in my step, I continued through the shop, stopping by each artist station to make sure they had everything they needed for the week.