Read Online Joy and Tiers by Mary Crawford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Crawford
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easier for you to talk to people, especially virtual strangers. In a crowd, you are the most gregarious person there whether you know it or not. You always engage in friendly conversation with everyone around you like you’re totally fearless.”
“That’s so sweet. I’m glad you see me in such a positive light,” I respond. “Though, I think you’ll find the real me a little less bubble-gum pink than you imagined. I am quite sarcastic and snarky on occasion. Some folks find me downright annoying,”
“I’ve faced down terrorists, I think I can handle a little snark,” he parries with a wink.
“You may want to rethink your opinion after you’ve seen me before I’ve had my coffee.”
Tyler pulls his cowboy hat off and wipes his forehead with his forearm. I don’t blame him. What started out as a comfortable day has become a real scorcher. I peel off my gingham over-shirt, glad I decided to wear a cute little tank underneath.
The expression on Tyler’s face is priceless when he notices what I’m doing.
He studies me quietly for a moment before he whistles low between his teeth. “Da-y-um Girl!” he exclaims admiringly, stretching the simple phrase into several syllables. “I thought Aidan had some pretty impressive ink. Why haven’t I seen that before?”
I shrug and look down toward the ground before I answer, “I don’t know. For a long time, I didn’t show it to anyone. I did it just for me. Whenever I exposed my arms, I would cover it with makeup. It just got to be a habit, I guess.”
Tyler’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me. “If that’s not a load of horse feathers, it should be,” he announces.
“What?” I ask, shocked at the vehemence in his voice. “What does that even mean?”
“Obviously, there’s more to your tattoo than just some stars and hearts most people have done when they turn eighteen so that they can check it off their bucket list. I’m pretty new to the world of tattoos myself, but I know that represents days’ worth of work. So, you don’t put yourself through that kind of torture unless there’s a story behind it. So, if you were brave enough to endure it, why hide it?”
Once again, his instinctive level of insight into what makes me tick surprises me. Most people are content to accept the wisecracking, bubblegum chewing, fashionista character I created and don't even try to find out who I am underneath my façade. Tyler already seems to realize there is more to me than what I project. It’s more than a little terrifying.
“I’m not sure there’s an entirely logical explanation for my actions,” I respond with a self-deprecating laugh. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It could be a pretty drawn out story.”
Tyler nods as he grins. “Aren’t those the best kind?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I caution.
“Quit stalling, I want to hear this. It’s a work of art. So, tell me your story— you’re not ashamed of it—are you?” he asks as almost an afterthought, with a look of confusion on his face.
“Oh, Geez no!” I exclaim, my shock is evident. “At least not in the way you think. The decision to get a tattoo was totally personal for me. I didn’t care if another person ever saw it, especially, my parents, because they despise tattoos and made their feelings widely known. I started covering it so I would have one less thing to fight about.”
Tyler reaches out and traces the intricate design with his fingertip. “The level of detail in this is downright phenomenal.”
“Thanks, I agonized over the design forever before it finally came together.”
“You drew this yourself?”
I let out a chortle of laughter as I respond, “You don’t know me well enough to know how funny that is. But, I leave the serious drawings to Tara. I’m limited to stick figures and cake sketches. In this case, there was an intern in my dad’s office who specialized in Asian art. He and Tara worked on it together via email until it was
“That’s so sweet. I’m glad you see me in such a positive light,” I respond. “Though, I think you’ll find the real me a little less bubble-gum pink than you imagined. I am quite sarcastic and snarky on occasion. Some folks find me downright annoying,”
“I’ve faced down terrorists, I think I can handle a little snark,” he parries with a wink.
“You may want to rethink your opinion after you’ve seen me before I’ve had my coffee.”
Tyler pulls his cowboy hat off and wipes his forehead with his forearm. I don’t blame him. What started out as a comfortable day has become a real scorcher. I peel off my gingham over-shirt, glad I decided to wear a cute little tank underneath.
The expression on Tyler’s face is priceless when he notices what I’m doing.
He studies me quietly for a moment before he whistles low between his teeth. “Da-y-um Girl!” he exclaims admiringly, stretching the simple phrase into several syllables. “I thought Aidan had some pretty impressive ink. Why haven’t I seen that before?”
I shrug and look down toward the ground before I answer, “I don’t know. For a long time, I didn’t show it to anyone. I did it just for me. Whenever I exposed my arms, I would cover it with makeup. It just got to be a habit, I guess.”
Tyler’s eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me. “If that’s not a load of horse feathers, it should be,” he announces.
“What?” I ask, shocked at the vehemence in his voice. “What does that even mean?”
“Obviously, there’s more to your tattoo than just some stars and hearts most people have done when they turn eighteen so that they can check it off their bucket list. I’m pretty new to the world of tattoos myself, but I know that represents days’ worth of work. So, you don’t put yourself through that kind of torture unless there’s a story behind it. So, if you were brave enough to endure it, why hide it?”
Once again, his instinctive level of insight into what makes me tick surprises me. Most people are content to accept the wisecracking, bubblegum chewing, fashionista character I created and don't even try to find out who I am underneath my façade. Tyler already seems to realize there is more to me than what I project. It’s more than a little terrifying.
“I’m not sure there’s an entirely logical explanation for my actions,” I respond with a self-deprecating laugh. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It could be a pretty drawn out story.”
Tyler nods as he grins. “Aren’t those the best kind?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I caution.
“Quit stalling, I want to hear this. It’s a work of art. So, tell me your story— you’re not ashamed of it—are you?” he asks as almost an afterthought, with a look of confusion on his face.
“Oh, Geez no!” I exclaim, my shock is evident. “At least not in the way you think. The decision to get a tattoo was totally personal for me. I didn’t care if another person ever saw it, especially, my parents, because they despise tattoos and made their feelings widely known. I started covering it so I would have one less thing to fight about.”
Tyler reaches out and traces the intricate design with his fingertip. “The level of detail in this is downright phenomenal.”
“Thanks, I agonized over the design forever before it finally came together.”
“You drew this yourself?”
I let out a chortle of laughter as I respond, “You don’t know me well enough to know how funny that is. But, I leave the serious drawings to Tara. I’m limited to stick figures and cake sketches. In this case, there was an intern in my dad’s office who specialized in Asian art. He and Tara worked on it together via email until it was
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