Read Online All the Pretty Lies by M. Leighton - Free Book Online Page A

it’s feeling like. The more I’m around her, the
more I want her, the more I feel like I have to have her.
And now that I know about her brother, that could be bad news for
both of us. And no female is worth that risk. Not. One.
    “Okay, what now?” Sloane asks from behind me.
I turn to find her standing at my left shoulder, looking up at me,
her eyes hidden by sunglasses. But I don’t need to see them to know
that interest is there. Attraction. Fascination. I don’t know
whether she doesn’t try to hide it or if she thinks she is hiding it. Either way, it’s there for me to see. Plain as the cute
little nose on her face. And it’s driving me crazy.
    “Let’s walk,” I say, turning to head up the
beach. I set a lazy pace as we kick through the surf. She keeps up
easily. When the wind blows, I get a hint of her perfume mixed with
sunscreen—the scent of innocence. It’s mouthwatering.
    “What are we looking for?”
    “Just look around. Look at all the exposed
skin. Look at the way it moves when people walk. Look at the way it
stretches tight when they bend over or run. Look at the way it
hangs when they’re relaxed. When you’re drawing a picture on skin,
when you’re making art that will live and breathe with the person
wearing it, you need to consider everything. Wrinkles, fat, bone,
muscle, age. It can all affect your work. And they’ll have to live
with it. For a long, long time.”
    As we walk along, I point out tattoos on
different people, explaining why I would or wouldn’t have done it
that way. I ask Sloane questions, trying to get a feel for her
innate abilities. I ask her things like how she would work around a
skin fold or what she’d tell someone who wanted a tattoo in a place
that wouldn’t turn out the way they envision.
    I suspected her to be fairly intuitive about
art. After seeing her sketch, I had no doubt she has talent. But
now I’m beginning to think she might really have an aptitude for
tattoo work. And that just makes her even more appealing to me.
It’s not something that’s common—doing tattoos—therefore it’s not
something easily shared with others. I can feel it forming a bond
between us, one I didn’t foresee and probably should’ve avoided
like the plague.
    But right now, it serves my purpose. I don’t
like the thought of anyone getting hurt, but I can’t be responsible
for everyone else. I have my own shit in life to worry about. And
some of it is more important to me than anything else. It has to
be. Until I see it through, it has to take precedence. End of
story.
    After nearly two hours of strolling along the
beach, looking at bodies with the eye of a tattoo artist, I finally
notice the heat.
    “Do you swim?”
    Sloane smiles broadly. “Yeah, I love to
swim.”
    “Then you have two choices. Run or I’ll pick
you up and throw you in.”
    Her smile dies as she processes my words. It
only takes two, maybe three seconds for her to turn away from me
and run, squealing toward the water. I give her a very small lead
and then I swoop in, scooping her up into my arms and running into
the salt water waves. I hit thigh level just as a swell comes in. I
wait until it’s ready to break and I throw Sloane right in the
highest part. I hear her squeal again, but it’s quickly drowned by
the crash of water over her head.
    I see her sunglasses fly out and hit the
water a couple feet away. I reach for them as I watch her, making
sure she finds her feet. Her head pops up in an instant. I smile
when I hear her sputtering. She straightens, pushing long, inky
strands of hair out of her eyes.
    “You…you…” she stammers. I might feel bad if
she was really mad, but she’s not. I can see her curved lips, and I
know it’s just bluster.
    “Me…me…what? Me fast and you slow?”
    Sloane comes stomping out of the deeper water
toward me. “You’re going down, mister.”
    “Ooo, promises promises.” I start backing
away, laughing at her bravado. She speeds up, I speed up.