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“It means,” I said, crossing my arms studiously over my chest, “that I don’t think this is really about the wall or stupid ‘vandalism’ or whatever you call it.”
“What else would it be about?” Conor growled.
“You tell me.” I took a step forward.
Clearly, I read something wrong. I’d pushed things too far. I’d missed some crucial sign along the way. I’d gotten too cocky. Conor, instead of taking a step back to match the one I’d taken forward, closed the distance between us so that when we both took ragged breaths, glaring at one another, our chests brushed one another’s. I didn’t think he would hurt me. But I was no longer entirely sure.
Instead of attacking each other with words, we seemed ready to attack each other with our bodies. I wondered if he saw what I was thinking about as our angry breaths filled the tattoo parlour.
Him flipping me over in bed. Me slipping free, trying to pin his arms above his head. Him grabbing my waist. I wondered what he would do to me if he did…
Uncomfortable heat bloomed in my cheeks and my lower belly.
“Let me tell you,” Conor said, moving his face closer to mine, his hair falling out of his bun, “since you asked. It’s about me wanting you gone and you not being gone. It’s about me telling you not to come back and you coming back. It’s about me not wanting to see you, think about you, be reminded of you and you painting a goddamn giant fucking reminder on the side of my fucking business.”
“What did I do to you?” I asked.
“You robbed my—”
“Bullshite,” I said, clearly taking Conor by surprise.
“Children shouldn’t speak like that.”
“I’m not a child,” I spat out. Hadn’t been for a long time. “What did I do to you that was so terrible?”
His eyes searched mine before inflaming with even more anger. “You vandal—”
“Bullshite.”
I jerked my chin up at Conor defiantly. I could see in the tension of his shoulders that he wanted to grab me, to pin me against the wall again. What did I say to make him hate me?
“What?” I prodded. “What could I possibly have done? What horrible, unforgivable sin have I committed that has doomed me in your holier-than-thou eyes, Conor? What? Tell me what!”
“You came back!” Conor roared.
I shook like he had wrenched me back and forth like a child’s ragdoll. Conor whipped around and punched a tattoo chair. It teetered, fell. The crash shook the floor beneath my feet.
“That was it,” he said, not turning back around to face me. His shoulders were slumped, his hands hanging loosely, defeatedly. “That was all you had to do, Aurnia.”
He was silent for a moment. I continued to quiver in his long dark shadow that swallowed me whole.
“But that was more than enough,” he said softly. “Believe me.”
“I…” Emotion was thick in my throat as I forced the words. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s not for you to understand.” He knelt and slowly returned the chair to its standing position. “You’re far too young to understand.”
Conor gripped the armrest of the chair, gripped it like he would fall otherwise. I stepped toward him. I wasn’t sure whether he heard my footsteps or not. I wasn’t sure he would have allowed me to get so close if he had.
“Why can’t I be here?” I asked, standing just behind him.
He was so tall, so big. I wasn’t sure I could reach all the way around him. Not even if he took me into his arms.
“Why can’t I be here with you?” I asked, brushing my fingers against his.
Conor jerked back his hand and he had me by the collar of my jacket before I knew it.
“Because you’re a thief,” he said, and I knew I’d lost him yet again. “Because you have no respect for my property. No respect for authority.”
