Page 124 of The Lies We Steal

“What is this place?” She asks as I shut the door of the shop behind us.

Her Converse squeak against the hardwood floor as she spins in a short circle, snow chapped face making me smile.

“It’s called Spade One.” I tell her, “It’s a tattoo shop I apprentice at.”

She gasps, “You jerk! You let me shove tattoo shop applications down your throat for a week and you didn’t tell me?”

I admired that about her.

How even though it seemed impossible to anyone else, she believed that I deserved the best out of everything. Stealing my sketches and hanging them up in her dorm room, showing them off to Lyra.

It felt nice to have someone believe in you.

“I’ve been working here for a while now.” I lead her up the steps, where my table is already set up. I’d come by earlier, cleaned it up, got everything ready for this today.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“No one knew.”

“Not even the boys?”

“Not even them.” I say honestly, sitting down in the swivel chair near the tattoo bench, “This was the only place I had to myself.”

When she’s done looking around, she makes her way towards me. Sitting on my lap, the chair rolling backwards with her weight.

“So why tell me? I know all about how protective you are over the things that are yours,” She pushes my hair out of my eyes.

My hands sitting right above her backside, resting on her hips, fingers hooked in her belt loops.

“I promised that everything I have, is yours remember? No secrets.”

I squeeze her hips, rolling her body on my lap, quickly pressing my lips to hers in arush of a kiss, “I want you to have all of me. So I can have all of you.”

Slinging her arms around my neck, looking up and around the shop, “And this is all of you? You wanna own one of these one day?”

I nod, “Something like that. I really just want to give people art that’s there forever. Tattoos are the ultimate commitment to art and I like the weight of that.”

When Shade gave me a spare key to this place, I doubt it was for the use of me tattooing my girlfriend on Christmas, but I think it would make him worry less about my mental stability if he found out.

At least he knew I was capable of holding down a relationship.

I thought about having my own shop when my apprenticeship is done, hiring the artists I wanted, putting out a certain product. I liked the idea of being in charge. In charge of something positive, of a dream.

“Want your present?” I ask, running my tongue along her bottom lip.

Briar chews the inside of her cheek, trying to contain her excitement but I know her, and how much she loves surprises. Even when she says she doesn’t. I also enjoy the slight O her mouth makes when she’s in shock, reminds me of what she looks like when she comes.

“What is it?” She asks, and I toss my head towards the black leather, tattoo table.

“There are two technically, but one of them is beneath the table.”

With enthusiasm, she rushes off my lap, leaving me cold without her presence near me. Her nibble fingers pull the black box up and onto the table. Not bothering to take her time as she begins to rip it open.

I can see the white laces as soon as she pulls the top off, her squeal of excitement has this buzzing feeling going off in my chest. A form of gratification I’m still trying to get used to.

She pulls up the red shoes, hugging them to her chest, barely looking at them before she says,

“I love them!”

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