"It wasn't as bad for me. I had Daisy. But she already kept to herself."
"Always had her nose in a book."
I nod. "So I had to entertain myself. And drawing felt right. It made sense. I could take what I saw and explain it. Or think up something else. Or take the ugly shit in my head and put it on paper."
"How old were you?"
"When I figured that out?" I ask.
She nods yeah.
"Nine or ten, maybe. My parents meant well. Even my mom. But I still knew I had to be strong. Quiet. To keep my problems to myself. Only… there was so much shit in my head. It was tangled. I couldn't make sense of it."
"Until you started drawing?"
"Yeah." I run my hand through my hair. "It always helped. Even now… when my head is a fucking mess and it hurts to close my eyes. I pick up a pen, find a paper, let my thoughts flow onto it… and it's still fucked up, but it makes a little more sense."
"It's easier?"
"Yeah." I bring my index finger to her forearm. The place she wants her new tattoo. "I'd always thought tattoos were cool. Since the first time I saw one."
"Your dad at the beach?"
"No." I chuckle. "He kept his under wraps for a while." Wait a second. "Fuck. You imagining my dad at the beach?"
"If I am?"
"Can't think straight when I'm jealous, angel."
"Jealous of your father?"
"Are you kidding?" My other hand finds her hip. "You talk about how hot he is all the time."
She smiles. Runs her fingertips over my jawline. "I shouldn't like you jealous. But I do." She leans in. Presses her lips to my cheek. Chin. Lips. "Gabe is attractive, sure, but I'm not interested."
"Yeah?"
She nods. "I don't want to fuck anyone but you."
"What if he offered to join so we could double-team you?"
Her head falls forward with her laugh. "Oh my god."
"You'd say no?"
"I'd still be fucking you. It's a grey area."
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah-huh."
She nods into my chest. Hooks her arm around my neck. "You know you don't fool me, Ollie."
"You think I won't get pissed?"
"No… changing the subject. There's something you don't want to say."
Maybe.
"You don't have to tell me." Her fingertips dig into my skin. "I know keeping things to myself. Dealing on my own."
And I hate the thought of it. Of Luna, alone in her room, trying to stomach all the pain she can swallow. Trying to carry her burden all alone.
I want to help her.
I want it too fucking badly. If I'm asking that…
It's only fair, I guess.
Even if that means—
Fuck.
One thing at a time. At least this part is easier. "Would you lean on me? If I offered?"
She bites her lip. "Are you bargaining?"
"If I am?"
"I don't know. I do like a deal."
"I know."
She looks up at me, considering it. "Okay. A story for a story? You go first."
I nod.
"Every detail on your ascent"—she raises a brow, asking if it's the right word. When I nod, she goes on—"to brilliant tattoo artist."
"Brilliant?"
"You think I'd let some wannabe put ink to my skin forever?"
"You haven't done it yet."
"Even so," she says.
I trace the lines onto her skin. It's easy to forget how important this job is. Yeah, I'm not a doctor or a teacher or a cop. But I leave people with a permanent mark.
Sometimes it's nothing. A design they like. A lark. A fun way to show their personality.
But sometimes it's everything. A way to cope. Or reclaim a scar. Or survive.
I know that too.
I've been there too.
"Okay." I kiss her softly. Taste every inch of her sweet lips. "After the costume."
She nods. "I do have an idea…" She motions follow me, takes my hand, leads me through the aisles. Past the careers, the super heroes, the decades.
All the way to a wall of supernatural creatures.
Zombies, witches, sorcerers, vampires.
Straight to "Vampire King." A velvet cloak. Black on the outside. Wine on the inside. Matching vest. Fangs sold separately.
"Angel, I'm not sure what this implies, but I know it's not good."
"Something about being an emotional vampire?" Her smile is soft. "Maybe when you play too much grunge. But no, it's not about the blood sucking or energy leaching. More that… this guy, he's a brooding bad boy—"
"He's a bad boy?"
"Of course. Vampire lore is all about older men taking advantage of nubile young women." She raises a brow. You can't really deny that?
"Did you just call yourself nubile?"
She laughs. "You're the one who was drawing me naked when I was