Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
When he gets me situated in the leather chair in his work area, I hand him the faded piece of paper with the image I want him to do tonight. He looks at it for a few minutes, his black shaggy hair falling over his eyes, then chews his lip ring as he lays the image on his work table.
His silence makes me think I made a mistake having him do this one and I should've gone to someone that I don't know to have a picture tattooed on my chest that was drawn by a little girl. Especially when that little girl happens to be the tattoo artist’s niece.
I'm so fucking stupid.
"So, how ya been, man?" He finally asks, leaning over me in the chair. The familiar buzz and burn of the gun starts in my left pec.
"Good. Work's been busy so that's always good."
He nods. "Same here. Business is going great."
"Asher's been raving about your violin intro on the new CD."
"Yeah?" His eyes immediately light up at the mention of his playing, like a true musician who’s passionate about their craft. Lukas is one of those multi-talented people who can play every instrument under the sun, without ever having had any lessons. His favorite is the violin, and he can go from playing classical to metal on it seamlessly like he was born with the thing in his hand.
"Yeah. He said you fuckin' killed it."
"Good to know." He hums along to the music playing from his mp3 player. "Do you want to talk about this?" He nods at the needle dragging into my skin as he shades in a replica of the heart Kenzi drew for me when she was seven. I like how it hurts to have something she gave me embedded into my skin forever.
I shift uneasily in the chair. "I don't think I can."
Shit. I shouldn't have come here. What the hell was I thinking?
"Understood. I'll do the talking, then."
I trust Lukas. We talk a lot when I come in here to get inked and he's sort of like a goth pseudo therapist. I know he's not going to crucify me, but I also know he's about to throw it down and tell me like it is.
He pulls back to look me in the eye. "You're treading into a minefield, Tor. I'm not gonna lie. But you know that already, don't you?"
"I do."
"I guess I don't have to ask if you love her. The fact that you're getting a heart and the words 'i love the you the most' permanently inked into your chest says it all, doesn't it?"
I wonder if I can admit my feelings for Kenzi out loud to someone. Especially to someone who also loves and cares about her.
I take a deep breath and I let the words out into the air, knowing there's no turning back now.
"Yeah, I love her. More than anything. Nothing's happened, though. I kissed her and that's it." I said it. I just admitted I'm in love with an eighteen-year-old girl. To her uncle. Her real uncle.
He lets out a low, dramatic whistle. "I'm going to assume Asher doesn't know."
"No. Things between her and me changed a few weeks ago. It happened kind of suddenly. My mind is completely fucked over it."
"I'm sure it is." He agrees. "And nothing like that happens suddenly, man. I think it's been happening for a long time."
The fact that it's true makes me wonder if there really is something wrong with me. If I've been falling in love with Kenzi for years; what the hell kind of person does that make me?
"Asher's like a brother to me, Lukas. I love him like he's my own blood. I'd never do anything to disrespect him."
"But...you love her, too."
"I don't want to hurt or lose either of them. But I can't wrap my head around this ever having a happy ending."
He leans back in his stool and lays his gun on the table. "Ivy's twelve years older than me. A lot of people have a hard time with that. Fuck, she had a hard time with it, at first. I had to chase her around to make her see me for me and not as an age."
I glance down at the design on my chest that's half finished. My plan is to show her when she comes back home from Maine. A long time ago I told her I would keep her drawing and her words forever. I'm sure neither one of us ever thought I'd have it marked on my body for the rest of my life, but I want this in a bad way.
"Kenzi is fine with my age. It's harder for me. I used to fuckin' babysit her. I feel like I should have my balls chopped off or get my head examined."