Page 60 of Beautiful Lies
“You done here?” Connor asked, lifting his head, and shooting Gavin a look. Gavin was obviously fishing for information, but if he thought he’d get it from Connor, he was mistaken. When it came to his personal life, Connor was a vault.
Gavin held up his hands and backed away. “Out of here. See you tomorrow.”
We said our goodbyes and the door closed behind AJ and Gavin, leaving me alone with Connor in an empty shop. Even though the music was still piping from the sound system and the machine in Connor’s hand was buzzing, a hush settled over us.
“You kissed a girl?” he asked a little while later.
“Once.”
“Tongue?”
“Yeah.”
“When was this?”
I leaned my head against the back of the seat and closed my eyes, remembering. “Valentine’s Day. I was supposed to spend it with my boyfriend, but he forgot. It was his twentieth birthday.” I wasn’t sure why I was referring to Connor as if he’d been someone else. Maybe that made it easier. “I kept calling him and texting, but he never answered his phone. So, I ended up going to a party. It was at Scott’s apartment. I smoked a joint with him and Megan.” Megan had been my roommate and Scott had been her boyfriend at the time. Now, Megan lived in Boston and worked for a consulting company. She worked sixty to seventy hours a week, wore suits to work, and aspired to climb the corporate ladder.
“You smoked a joint?” Connor asked, surprised.
First and last time. It made me nauseous and paranoid, proving that drugs and I were not a good match. As if I needed proof. “I didn’t really like it.”
I thought about that night. House music was shaking the walls, and it felt like everything was going on around me in slow motion, like I wasn’t part of it. I was dancing, the bass thrumming through my body, my head in a hazy funk, and all I’d wanted was to forget. Just like Connor had done. The girl had raven hair and big brown eyes and I never even caught her name. “When she started kissing me, I went along with it just to see how it would feel.”
“And how did it feel?” he asked quietly.
“Strange. Interesting. Not bad but not good either. I just felt… like I was someone else. Maybe that’s how I wanted to feel.”
Connor lifted the tattoo needle and sat back on his stool. “I need to lock up.” I nodded, and he gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Almost there. You’re doing great.”
I watched him stride across the black-and-white tiled floor, his shoulders squared, the lines of his torso forming a perfect V-shape. I didn’t notice how good his ass looked in those faded Levi’s. Nope, didn’t notice.
Connor changed the music and Lana Del Rey’s “Pretty When You Cry” piped over the speakers. Connor didn’t play fair. He knew how to break down my defenses and he was using it to his advantage.
“Connor,” I whispered when he sat down again.
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face before he bent his head and got back to work.
I closed my eyes and listened to the music. Lana’s sultry voice, and lyrics that could have been written for us, made my heart ache. Made me long for something I’d lost but wasn’t sure what it was or how to find it again.
When the song ended, another Lana Del Rey song came on. I wondered if he made this playlist just for me. I thought maybe he had. As the tattoo machine buzzed, and the music swirled around us, I remembered so many of the things I loved about Connor. The way he listened when I talked, like everything I said was important to him. The way he’d taken care of me when I got the flu in my freshman year of college. He’d ladled soup into my mouth. Warmed me with his body heat when I had the chills. Bathed me with a washcloth when the fever broke. He’d read to me because my head had hurt too much to watch movies. Jack Kerouac’sOn the Road. In my foggy brain, I had recognized Connor in that story. That mad quest to live, to burn bright, to seek out adventure.
We used to talk about hitting the open road, crisscrossing the country on Connor’s Harley. Staying at cheap motels. Eating at diners and dives. Being wild and free. On desert highways where we wouldn’t see another car for miles and miles. We would feel like the only two people in the world. We’d watch the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. Make love under the stars. Dance in the light of a moon that was hung just for us.
I opened my eyes as Connor lifted his head. I looked into his blue eyes and saw the boy I once loved so fiercely that I believed nothing, and nobody, could ever keep us apart. “Were you dreaming about California?” he asked.
“How did you know?”
“Sometimes, I can still read your mind.”
“I was thinking about our road trip. It was never about the destination, was it?”
“No. It was about the journey.”
“I thought you would have taken it on your own…”
He let out a breath and shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been the same.” He leaned back on his stool and peeled off his gloves, rolling out his shoulders. “All done.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. He chuckled. “Might be easier to see with your eyes open.”
