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She stares up at it. "I never would have taken this if you hadn't pushed me."
"Is that a thank you?"
"We'll see how it goes." She turns back to me. "I remember when you were younger."
I raise a brow, incredulous.
"There were times when you stormed to your room, all pissed off. But most of the time, you were sitting on the couch, scribbling in your sketchbook. You were a good guy."
I wasn't. That's what she doesn't get.
A good brother, maybe.
But not a good guy.
I used friends for drugs or booze.
I fucked women then threw them away.
I lied to my parents.
"I wasn't." I stare back at Kay. At all that trust in her eyes. I don't deserve it, but I still want every fucking drop of it. "I was an asshole. I treated people like shit."
"Even if that's true... does it really matter?" She presses her lips together. "Things can get better. People can get better."
"In theory."
"You... you were different before you had ink. You're more yourself now."
"I've had ink as long as you've known me."
She shakes her head.
I turn toward her, pull my jeans down my hip to show off my sic transit gloria quote. "Pretentious high school shit."
"Excuse you."
"For me. Not like I took Latin."
"You wanted the world to know glory is bullshit?"
Basically. I nod.
She moves under the street lamp. "I... I have ugly parts too. Things I don't want anyone knowing."
It's hard to believe. Kay is sunshine and cotton candy. She's the sweetest person I've ever met. Hands down. I shake my head.
She nods. "I guess that's fair. Since I don't believe you were ever a bad guy."
"It is." I move toward her. Until my hands are skimming her hips.
She looks up at me with those doe eyes.
Her lips part.
She nods.
It's like she's begging me to kiss her, touch her, fuck her.
