He studies me for a second, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette from a pack.
“You know, we’re also different. I’ve always been running to something—always searching for something that I could never find. But I suspect you’re the opposite. You’re runningfromsomething.”
My smile slips, and I reach my hand out. “Gimme that.”
He chuckles again and hands the cigarette over. I curl it between my lips and lean over, allowing Simon to light it for me.
After inhaling deeply, I ask, “How can you tell?”
He doesn’t answer until his own is lit and he’s taken a few puffs.
“You got that cornered animal look to you. Jumpy. Haunted. Like you’re gonna bite and run any second, without warning.”
I frown. Austin, the bartender, also compared me to an animal.
“Apparently, I’m not as mysterious as I thought,” I mumble, taking another drag.
“Sweetheart, you carry your baggage like it’s the only belongings you got.”
“Ouch,” I mutter, though a grin tips up my lips. “Maybe that’s my appeal then. Everyone wants to fix the broken, right?”
“Nah,” he says. “People don’t actually care about fixing you. They just want to shape your broken pieces until they fit their standards. Smooth ’em out, make ’em less sharp, so they don’t cut so deep when they collect ’em. But you ain’t any less broken.”
“He’s a wise one,” I announce loudly, earning a few side-eye glances. “If I’m a feral dog, you’re an owl.”
Another body-shaking laugh and I feel my soul ease just a little. Simon has no interest in fixing my broken pieces, but he also smooths them out without even trying. Just a little.
“Tattoo healin’ nicely?”
My grin widens, and I show him my leg. “It’s perfect. I want another.”
“We can do another, but let’s wait until it’s the right time, yeah?”
Another frown. “How will I know it’s the right time?”
He pats my leg as the bus hurtles down the road, coming to a screeching halt in front of us. Neither of us gets up to leave.
“You’ll know.”
Chapter 6
Enzo
Ladra.
My hand lays flat against the rough texture of the great white beneath me. She glides through the water smoothly, her body wiggling back and forth as she swims.
She’s a serene one. Hasn’t minded me one bit hanging onto her fin.
There’s a plastic six-pack ring caught on one of her teeth, but I’ve been letting her get used to my presence first before I extract it. Something that should never be in any fucking animal’s mouth.
I wouldn’t mind if it were wrapped around the neck of someone else, though.
Fucking. Thief.
It's all I can think—a constant loop in my head, reminding me how easily I got played. And the only one stupid enough to let her in was me.
Doubt I’m the only one to fall victim to those big, sad eyes, though.