Page 34 of I Blame the Rival

“You’re doing so good, Flower. Just a little longer.” I murmur quietly, carefully rotating her hand so I can finish the last section.

“Don’t forget to add your number.”

She squirms slightly when I reach the sensitive underside of her wrist. I pause, leaning down to press a kiss against her skin.

“Okay. All done.”

Stepping back, I hold my breath as she holds out her arm for assessment. It wouldn’t take more than a good scrub to wash the ink off, but that doesn’t change the fact I want her to like it.

“Are these bellflowers?”

She rotates her arm slowly, her eyes glistening as they soak in the consequence of my temper. I managed to keep the blood out of this one, but it’s not a dainty piece by any means.

The flowers that grow along Karen’s front garden now creep along Lacey’s arm in a tornado of paper fragments and flowers, the twisted vines wrapping around her wrist while wilted petals float down from her shoulder.

I clear my throat with a nod, “It seemed like the most fitting.”

“I love it.” She looks at me with glassy eyes, “Thank you, Skylar”

Shame heats my cheeks and I drop my gaze to the ground.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“What are you sorry for? You got to draw, and I got a beautiful memento.” She tilts her head, “Have you ever thought about being a tattoo artist? You’re really good.”

“You don’t think it’s too dark?”

She shakes her head, “No way. The darkness helps make it seem real.”

Warmth washes through me. Instead of being afraid of my darkness, Lacey matches it in every way possible.

Pulling out the sunshine tissue from my back pocket, I let the note unfold in front of me. My eyes skim the last couple of messages, pausing to reread our last exchange one more time.

I’m not a pretty person, Lacey. I come from a family of angry men and as much as I wish I could say it skipped a generation, I can’t. That’s the real reason I’m here every Friday, talking to Karen.

So, you’re here for anger management and I’m here because of a suicide attempt. I guess we’re both just a couple of ugly people.

Using the same pen I used on her arm, I jot down my phone number and a response.

If being ugly means I get to talk to you, then I don’t ever want to be pretty.

Chapter8

Lacey

“I kissed a boy.”

The words slip out and there’s no stopping the smile taking over my face. Wesley’s jaw hits the ground and Nico leans over to give me a high five.

“With tongue?”

“Dude.” My brother snaps his mouth shut with a groan, “Why do you always have to take it too far?”

“What? I didn’t ask if she dropped to her knees and gave him a blowjob.”

I hold up my hand, “I’m right here. And yes, there was tongue.”

Nico beams, “That’s my girl.”

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