Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

“Way to live life on the edge,” Thayer deadpans.

  I whirl around, pinning him with a glare. “I don’t remember asking you.”

  Nate, the piercer, walks back out, nodding his head at Thayer and Holden. “Getting a touch-up?” he asks, directing his attention to Thayer.

  He has a tattoo?

  Thayer shakes his head in answer.

  “We’re with them,” Holden says, flicking his chin toward us.

  I roll my eyes, handing Nate my clipboard.

  “Birthday girl?” Nate asks, glancing down at my license.

  “Yep.” I rock back on my heels, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

  “Happy birthday then. Who’s up first?”

  “Me,” Valen announces, holding her clipboard out for him to take.

  “All right, brave girl. Pick out your jewelry.” He gestures to a glass counter display with all kinds of different jewelry, along with the shop’s merch in the form of stickers, beanies, and t-shirts.

  The two of them walk over to the counter and I follow suit. While Nate shows Valen the nose ring options, I browse all the different types of jewelry. Some, I don’t even recognize. I snort when I see a curved bar with a Playboy Bunny dangling from the bottom.

  “You’d be surprised how many people still get those,” Nate says, smirking. “Mostly divorcees in their thirties or early forties with a newfound wild streak.” He winks.

  “I’m not judging.” I laugh. To each their own.

  Once Valen settles on a dainty, little nose ring, the two of them disappear into a piercing booth somewhere down the hall. I scan the jewelry some more, my eyes stuck on something in particular. Two somethings, specifically.

  “You’re too scared,” Thayer says from behind me, his voice next to my ear, and I jump, not realizing he was so close.

  “No, I’m not.” I swallow hard, feeling him move in closer.

  “Liar,” he accuses.

  “Don’t act like you know me,” I grind out.

  “Oh, but I do. I know that secretly, what you really want are those,” he says, stubbing his fingers onto the glass countertop, his arm brushing mine in the process, “but in the end, you’ll back down and play it safe, because good little girls don’t get their nipples pierced.”

  I don’t know what I hate more. The way he’s talking to me or the fact that he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he knows me. He saw me eyeing them. That’s it.

  “Done!” Valen chirps, skipping back toward us. Thayer backs off, and Holden watches us intently from the couch on the opposite side of the lobby. Oblivious, Valen frames her hands under her chin, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “What do you think?”

  “That was fast,” I say, walking over to inspect the little diamond that sits on her slightly red nostril as if my heart isn’t going crazy inside my chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I love it,” she declares, turning for a full-length mirror to admire it some more.

  “Looking good,” Holden says, appreciation in his tone.

  “Bite me.”

  “Yes, please.”

  The door swings open, cutting off their bickering, and Christian pops his head in. “We’re heading out.”

  “Enjoy your belly ring,” Thayer taunts, and then they’re both walking out the door.

  Asshole.

  I turn back around, noticing two leather booklets on top of the glass case, one reading Tattoos, the other Piercings in silver Sharpie. I flip through, checking out all the different facial piercings, but about three pages in, I pause, unable to look away.

  I’ve always thought they were pretty, but never something I could pull off. I never even considered getting them for myself, but for some reason, now that the idea has taken shape, I can’t shake it. It’s been gnawing at me ever since I saw the jewelry in the case. I want to do it. I’m going to do it. Something slightly rebellious, but not as permanent as a tattoo. And I can’t deny that there’s something appealing about knowing no one else will ever see, unless I decide to show it to them.

  Nate comes around the counter, asking which jewelry I like, and I point to what I want.

  “That’s not what you’re looking for.” Nate chuckles. “The naval rings are here,” he says, stubbing a tattooed finger down onto the glass.

  “I know. I want these.”

  His eyes snap up to mine.

  “Those are for nip—”

  “I know.” I widen my eyes at him.

  Nate clears his throat, but the professional in him recovers quickly, plucking a tray of various barbells out of the display case. “Let’s get you back in the booth so we can discuss it further.”

  I nod, then Nate leads me to a very bright, very sterile-feeling room with a chair that reminds me of the exam table at my OB/GYN.

  “Have a seat,” he says, closing the door behind him.

  My heart doubles its pace, and the nerves start to set in as I hop up onto the chair. Nate eyes my shaking hands and I clasp them together in my lap in an attempt to steady them.

  “You sure about this?” he asks, lifting a brow. “Quite a leap for your first time.”

  Good little girls don’t get their nipples pierced.

  Thayer’s words play back in my head. Is it a cliché rebellious teenager move to get piercings in questionable places? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway?

  I swallow hard, then give a firm nod. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

  A smile tugs at his lips, and for some reason, it’s that smile that makes me suddenly realize that this guy is going to be up close and personal with my nipples. Nate drops down into a rolling chair and scoots toward me, tray of jewelry in hand.

  “But we should hurry. Before I can talk myself out of it.”

  He chuckles, reaching over to pull a rolling stand over, then sets the tray on the top before refocusing his attention on me. “Can you lift your shirt for me? Your bra will need to come off, too.”

  I nod, taking a fortifying breath. I pull my shirt over my head, then slide my bra straps down my arms and reach behind me to free the clasp of my bra, letting it fall into my lap. My nipples tighten painfully, as if they know what’s coming.

  “You have perfect nipples,” he remarks.

  “Um.” I don’t know what to say to that.

  “For piercing,” he amends. “They’re proportionate and not flat, so they’ll look great.”

  “Okay.”

  He leans in close, inspecting me, and I try my hardest not to fidget as his fingertips pull slightly on the tip. “I’m thinking we’ll go with a fourteen gauge since they’re pretty small. I’ll leave the bar a bit longer to accommodate the swelling, but you can change it once you’re healed.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Nate lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard to say. As far as pain, you’ll hurt tonight, and they’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. No playing—” he says with air quotes, making his meaning clear— “for four to six months.”

  Wow. That’s a lot longer than I would’ve guessed. But it still doesn’t sway me.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  Nate stands and does something at the small counter on the opposite side of the room and returns with gloved hands holding white gauze.

  “To sterilize,” he explains. “It’s going to feel cold.”

  He swipes the cold liquid across my right one first, causing me to shiver. He repeats the motion to the other side, and then he’s turning for the counter once more. When he turns back around, he has some sort of metal device in his hands, and I feel my eyes go wide.

  “Relax, it’s just a clamp. Are you the need-to-know-every-step kind of girl? Or just get-it-over-with-as-soon-as-possible girl?”

  “Definitely the latter. Just tell me when it’s coming.”

  “Deal.” He sets the torture device down onto the tray and plucks a thin, purple Sharpie out of his pocket, biting the cap off with his teeth. His brows furrow in concentration as he dips hi
s head down to get a closer look. He’s so close that I can feel his breath on my skin as he flicks my nipple with the tip of his finger. He draws a small dot on one side of my nipple, then one more on the opposite side. He repeats the motion to the other one, then leans back, inspecting.

  “Look even to you?” he asks, handing me a mirror.

  I give a quick look, uncomfortable seeing the reflection of my bare chest even though I’ve been topless in front of him this whole time. “Mhm.”

  “Lie back.”

  I do as he says, bringing the backs of my hands over my eyes as my back hits the table. I hear him rustling around, and then feel cool metal against my skin.

  “This is just the clamp,” he clarifies. I feel my nipple being pinched, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just uncomfortable. “Okay, now take a deep breath for me, Shayne,” he instructs, his voice smooth as velvet, but it doesn’t do much to comfort me.

  I inhale deeply, filling my lungs, and when I release it, hot, sharp pain sears through me. I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, and my hands fly down to my sides, digging my fingernails into the leather seat.

  “Good girl,” he praises. “The needle is through. I’m just feeding the barbell through now.”

  “Don’t say needle,” I manage to grind out, only half-joking. I feel like I’m going to throw up. My entire body is trembling.

  “One more to go.”

  It’s the same process for the other side, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m expecting it, but I swear it hurts more. The pain is intense, but it’s over mercifully quick. Once the initial pain fades, it morphs into a duller, throbbing sensation.

  “Breathe,” Nate instructs. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. I focus on taking slow, deep breaths, doing my best to ignore whatever it is he’s doing. Screwing the ball onto the barbell, if I had to guess.

  “All done,” Nate announces, helping me to sit up, one hand holding mine, and the other between my shoulder blades. I look down to assess the damage, but I’m pleasantly surprised with what I see. A small, horizontal, silver barbell decorates each nipple, and there isn’t even a drop of blood.

  “They look so good,” I say with wonder in my voice. I can’t believe I just did that.

  “Yes, they do,” Nate agrees before clearing his throat. He leans in once more, reaching out to adjust the barbells. My stomach tightens at the sensation, feeling raw.

  “There isn’t any blood,” I muse aloud.

  “There might be a little later. I’ll give you instructions for aftercare and go over everything, but I’m going to warn you right now, if you shower with those loofah things, do yourself a favor and throw it out now.”

  “Okay…”

  “There’s nothing worse than forgetting you have a fresh piercing and snagging it on one of those bitches. Trust me.”

  “Ouch.” I hop down from the table, reaching for my clothes that must’ve fallen from my lap.

  “I’d skip the bra for a week or two, too.”

  Going braless at school for two whole weeks? Sure. That won’t be weird at all.

  I pull my t-shirt over my head—sans bra—wincing when the fabric hits my chest. Nate rattles off instructions about how often to clean them and how long to abstain from certain…activities. And then we’re walking back out toward the lobby, with my bra stuffed into my waistband in the back of my pants.

  Valen pops up from the couch and springs toward me. “That took forever. Let’s see it!” Before I can stop her, she’s lifting my shirt, exposing my stomach.

  “You little wuss!” she exclaims, laughing. “I knew you’d chicken out.”

  I pull my shirt back down, walking up to the counter with the cash register. We still have to pay, so the jig is up.

  “Fifty for you.” He points to Valen, and she digs into her purse for cash. “And it’s usually forty-five each, but I’ll cut you a deal since it’s your birthday. Give me fifty and we’ll call it even.”

  “Wait.” Valen’s head snaps around. “You got two piercings? Where?” Her eyes scan my body.

  “Somewhere where nobody can see,” I tease, widening my eyes at her. I hand Nate a fifty and a twenty for a tip…which isn’t exactly chump change for me, but it’s the least I can do since he gave me a deal. “Thanks again,” I tell Nate, changing the subject as I walk backwards toward the door.

  Once outside, I’m relieved to find the cluster of cars has left. Valen jogs to her car and hops in, but I can’t exactly run, so I opt for slow and steady steps, and I see Valen’s mouth drop from the driver’s seat.

  “You little rebel.” She laughs when I pull the passenger side door open. “Show me right now.”

  I slide in and close the door before angling my body toward her. I curl my fingers around the hem of my shirt, quickly lifting it to my chin.

  “Holy shit, they’re perfect,” she squeals. I drop my shirt, then face forward. “How bad did it hurt?”

  “Bad,” I admit. “But it was quick. You?”

  She angles the rearview mirror down to admire her nose. “Surprisingly not bad at all. My eyes watered, but that’s about it.”

  Valen starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive back home. We talk some more, but all the while, my thoughts keep drifting back to Thayer and how different he is. He didn’t even wish me a happy birthday, and I know that’s insignificant, all things considered, but it’s just another reminder that my life has done a complete one-eighty. Last year, I had Danny, Thayer, and Holden. I had Grey. Now, I don’t have a single one of them.

  Valen’s car slows, snapping me out of my thoughts. When I look up, I realize we’re pulling up to her house instead of mine. I glance over at her with a questioning expression.

  “Sleepover,” she deadpans, as if the answer is obvious. “It’s your birthday. You’re not spending the rest of your night at home alone. We’re going to order pizza, get drunk, watch shitty reality TV, and then I’ll probably make you flash me one more time.”

  I crack a smile. “I’m in.”

  She cuts the engine, then dangles her keys in front of my face. “As if you had a choice.”

  Shayne

  “So I’ve been thinking,” Mom says, in way of greeting as I walk through the front door after school. She came home on Sunday with a grocery store cake, but other than that, I haven’t seen her much, and I haven’t brought up seeing her with that random guy.

  “Well, hello to you, too.”

  “Have you thought about getting back on the team?” she asks, not wasting any time getting to the point.

  “Nope,” I say simply, popping the p. “But I can see you have.”

  “I just think it would be a good idea. You’re still playing catch-up, and it will look good on your college applications.”

  “I don’t know.” I was the captain of the volleyball team for the past two years. I used to play both high school and club before we moved to Sawyer Point, and I loved it. But for some reason, over the past year, I just…lost interest.

  “Shayne,” she starts, tucking my hair behind my ear and smoothing out my flyaways. “I want you to have everything you deserve in this life. I don’t want you to have to depend on anyone. Ever.”

  Her sudden serious demeanor catches me off guard. It’s just a sport. It’s not going to make or break my future. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

  “If not volleyball, what about something else? Like student government? Or the debate team? I bet you’d be good at that—”

  “Mom,” I say sharply, cutting her off. “I’ll talk to the coach, okay?” I say just to pacify her, even though I have no intention of actually doing it. Spending extra time with Taylor and Alexis isn’t exactly at the top of my to-do list. I’d rather join that aforementioned debate team.

  “Thank you,” she says, smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Not that my mom’s ever been the poster child for happy and carefree, but lately, I get the sense that she’s worried about something
in a big way. And it makes me feel uneasy. I tell myself that she’s simply extra high-strung after two funerals in the past year and ending her relationship with August, but something tells me it’s beyond that. I make a mental note to call Grey and see if he has any idea about what’s going on with her, though I doubt he’ll be much help. I doubt he’ll even answer.

  “So, what’d you do last weekend?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant as I make my way over to the fridge. I pluck the pitcher of water out and pour myself a glass. “When I got home, your car was gone.”

  “Oh, nothing special. Just had some stuff to do,” she says, not meeting my eyes, followed by her signature sniff. “What about you?”

  I slam the pitcher down onto the counter, none too gently, causing her to flinch. I can’t exactly call her on her lie. That would incriminate me. I was supposed to be at Valen’s house. “Really?” I prod, ignoring her question. “Nothing at all?”

  She meets my eyes, suspicion finally creeping in. “What I do in my free time is adult business.”

  I scoff. Adult business? “I’ll bet it was,” I quip, my innuendo clear.

  “Shayne,” she scolds, looking at me as if she doesn’t recognize me. That makes two of us.

  I reach down for my backpack, taking everything out except my notebook and a couple pens, then I swipe the throw blanket off the back of the couch and stuff it inside the backpack before zipping it up. I shrug it on one shoulder and head for the door. It’s not that I care what she does, but if she’s planning to move us in with some new guy, I’m going to have to figure something else out. I’m not moving again.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turn and look at her over my shoulder. “What I do in my free time is adult business.”

  By the time I make it to the barn, it’s starting to get dark, and I kick myself for not having the foresight to bring a flashlight. The one on my phone will have to do. Lifting the rock, I scoop up the key and make quick work unlocking the padlock. These woods never used to scare me—probably because Thayer was always with me—but now, alone right before dark, I’m a little on edge.

  I close the door behind me, instantly feeling safer, calmer, now that I’m inside. I close my eyes and inhale, taking in the familiar scent. Of everything from my life before, I think I miss being in this place most of all. And the person who was here with me.