Page 24 of Beautiful Lies
“We’ll start over. I do it every day. One minute, one hour, one day at a time. Baby steps, Ava.”
His tone was deceptively light. I knew it couldn’t be easy, not for him, and not for us. “I hate you, remember?” But even as I said it, I could hear that my voice lacked conviction.
“We just met, and you already hate me?” he teased.
I rolled my eyes. He gave me a smile that melted the ice around my heart. I loved that dimple in his right cheek and the twinkle in his blue eyes. “Hey, I’m Ava Christensen.”And I’m a fool for going along with this plan.
His smile grew wider. “Nice to meet you, Ava. Can I buy you a drink?”
I laughed under my breath. This was ridiculous. “I’ll have a chai latte.”
“I’ll bring it to the table.”
I nodded, and somehow my feet carried me to a table. I sat with my back to the window and watched Connor walk toward me with two cardboard cups in his hands. Clean-shaven, wearing a blue T-shirt, faded jeans slung low on his narrow hips, and black biker boots, he looked so good he was almost edible.
How could this possibly work? Over the past ten years, he had been so many different things to me—best friend, worst enemy, love of my life, heartbreaker, asshole with a capital A. We’d soared to the greatest heights and crashed to the lowest depths together.
Starting over wasn’t possible.
He set my tea in front of me and I thanked him, sounding so prim and proper that I barely recognized myself. Connor flipped his chair around and straddled it. Inwardly, I groaned. I hated when he sat like that. I loved when he sat like that. I wasnotthinking about straddling him on a chair.
“When are you going to learn how to sit in a chair?” I asked, white-knuckling my cardboard cup.
He gave me a slow, easy grin, and drummed his fingers on the back of the chair, tapping out a beat to whatever song was in his head. I wanted to know which song it was, what the soundtrack of our life sounded like to him now, but I didn’t ask.
We sipped our drinks and snuck glances at each other like we really were on a first date. Curious, attracted to each other, but not sure how to proceed.With caution, Ava, that’s how you should proceed.
A black leather braided cord around his neck disappeared inside his T-shirt collar, the silver St. Jude medal he always wore hidden from sight. The patron saint of lost causes—perfect for Connor.
My gaze lowered to the tattoos on Connor’s arms. I was well-acquainted with the blue and black inked fish and birds that fit together like a puzzle on his left arm. But his right sleeve was still a mystery. He’d had it inked over the past year, and I took the opportunity to study it now. All the designs were intricate and interwoven and although there wasn’t one central theme, they fit together seamlessly. The bare branches of a tree with a skull buried in the trunk, vines wrapped around it like they’d choked the life out of the tree. Stars. Bird’s wings. Was that Odysseus? Oh Connor. The closer I looked, the more I saw. The word FREE written in script on his forearm…
Connor caught me staring. Under the guise of scratching his back, he exposed the underside of his bicep. A gray eye framed by long, dark lashes stared back at me. One perfect teardrop fell from the corner.
Oh God. I lifted my eyes to his.
His eyes closed briefly, and that simple gesture nearly killed me. Just like the eye tattooed on his arm—my eye. I averted my gaze and tried to steady my breathing.
The silence stretched out between us as his eyes flitted over my face, trying to figure out how I felt about the tattoo. I wasn’t sure what I thought about it. I wasn’t sure about anything right now.
We used to be able to communicate without words. Now I had no idea what he was thinking.What’s going on in that twisted, beautiful mind of yours, Connor?
Eden had told me he’d gotten a new tattoo on his chest to cover the scars, but if we were playing this we-just-met game, I wasn’t supposed to know that. I cleared my throat. “Do you have more tattoos, besides your arms?”
He gave me a little smile. “I have a falcon on my back. Falcons represent hope and freedom. And a Japanese dragon on my chest.”
I nodded, neither of us commenting on the symbolism of the dragon. I was dying to see it though. Connor’s designs were always amazing. Special. Unique. Artistic. He was so talented, and it had always amazed me that his big, strong hands could create such detailed, intricate artwork. “Tattoos are cool.”
“Glad you think so. I’m a tattoo artist.” He took a sip of his coffee and eyed me over the rim. “Actually, I’m buying the shop where I work.”
My eyes widened. “You’re buying it?”
“The current owner is moving to California.”
Whoa. That was kind of huge. Connor would be taking on a big responsibility. Maybe he really was done running. “I always wanted to live in California.”
“What stopped you?”
I shrugged.I didn’t care where I lived if you were there. “Brooklyn’s not so bad. I have good friends and a cool job.”
