Before & After - Nazarea Andrews Page 0,30

in my gut settles, a shard that was out of place sliding where it belongs with a sick snick that makes my stomach churn and my head spin.

It feels right.

I told her I wanted to know now if this was just a distraction, wanted to know before it was too late to get out without getting hurt.

But staring at her, I know the truth. It's too late already. Maybe it's always been too late where she's concerned.

This girl will break me into a thousand pieces, and I won't even care. I'll shatter with a smile and thank her for the chance to care about her, even from a distance.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, pushing to my feet. She's standing close enough that when I rise, I'm almost pressed against her, and for a moment, all I can smell is sunshine and sugar and her. I sway close to her without meaning to.

“We need to talk,” she says softly. I glance back at Scott. The session has just started and he’ll be under Staci’s machine for the next two hours, while she traces ink up and down his spine in intricate clockwork.

“Go,” he says gritting his teeth when the needle bumps over his spine and I nod once. Grab her hand and pull her out of the stall and onto the sunlit sidewalk outside Dragon’s Head Tattoo. I let her go almost immediately and she shifts, nerves playing over her features.

“Talk,” I say and she lets out the breath she’s been holding. I can hear the frustration in her huff, but I ignore it. I can’t let myself care about that right now.

Even knowing I’m being an ass, I can’t let myself care.

“You want to sit down or something?”

I shrug, and slip my shades on. It’s a dick move, hiding behind the mirrored lenses. I do it anyway. "What are you doing here, Peyton?"

"I'm the daughter of a southern Baptist small town politician," she says, abruptly. "Daddy started out a doctor--had a real nice family practice. But it wasn't enough, and when I was in middle school, he went into politics. It became everything our family was. He was mayor and then our representative in the state legislature, and it just--it never ended. Every election was a new step and it didn't ever stop."

I stare at her, and she shrugs. "Everyone expected me to be a good little southern belle. Perfect Daddy's girl at the political dinners and events and rallies. And I was. I was really good at it. I played my perfect part really well."

There's something in her tone that has me nervous and I shift, reaching for her. She jerks back, out of my reach. "Just. Let me say this," she almost begs, and I nod.

"I hated it. I was good at it, and I did what they expected, but I hated it. I got involved in drugs. Nothing too serious, just shit that I knew would piss off my parents, if they were to find out. Binge drinking and random hookups." She laughs as my stomach churns. "Sometimes I think it's a miracle I made it through high school. I was the epitome of self-destructive. But the part that really fucked me and my parents up was the eating disorder." She takes a deep breath and digs into her bag, pulling out a beat up journal that she extends to me silently. "You want the truth. Want to know what I'm keeping to myself. It's in there."

I'm shaking my head and stepping away from her even while she's still speaking. Because I might want the truth, but I sure as fuck don't want it that way, because she thinks she has to give it to me. "I want it when you’re ready to share," I growl.

"I'm never going to be ready to share this, Jokes. That's the thing. I hate who I was. It's why I left and came here. Why I don't talk about my past and where I came from, why I rarely go home, and have almost nothing to do with my family. Because I don't want to be that girl anymore and the only way I know how to be someone else is to BE someone else. I don't keep you on the outside because I want you there. I keep you on the outside because I'm still trying to figure out who the hell I am."

"You're Peyton," I snap, fiercely, stepping into her and pulling her against my body with