Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy #1)(22)

My eyes went to her tight blue T-shirt. “Which one do you have?”

She picked up a tiny pair of angel wings. “This,” she said pointing to the etched feathers on the wings. “They’re new and totally sweet,” she said mischievously, “and my boyfriend loves to play with it.”

“I want it.”

Mila grumbled and put her head in her hands.

The shop girl smiled. “Great. I’m Shayla, and I’m the resident female piercer around here.” She cocked her head and looked down at the image books. “But I thought you were looking for a tat today.”

“I want the piercing first and the tat later,” I said, thrilled at my decision to be in control of my own body. For too long, I’ve let others dictate everything: how to eat, how to dress, how to smile, how to walk, how to pretend.

“Okay, then, come on back here, and we’ll get set up.” She glanced over and smiled at Mila as she led me down the hall. “Does your friend want to come and watch?”

Mila’s face whitened, and I arched an eyebrow at her. I loved her, but she was a weenie.

She exhaled heavily but followed me, her hair bouncing. “Just because I’m curious, doesn’t mean I approve.”

Shayla had me take my shirt and bra off so she could study my breasts. I reclined on a chair while she touched my nipples with gloves on. “Your nipples are a good size. You’re not planning to breastfeed anytime soon, right?” she asked.

Mila laughed out loud. “God, can you imagine either of us with a baby?”

I shook my head dazedly, picturing me with a baby, breastfeeding. Then I imagined Mother’s face if I came up pregnant. It would be her proof that I really was a whore. I imagined all the nasty names she’d call me. I pictured myself in a televised beauty pageant, wearing an evening dress that stretched tight across my swollen belly. Knowing her, she’d turn it around and use it to her advantage by creating a news story out of it: “A Parkie Girl’s Story of Being a Whore.”

Shayla briefly explained about the healing process and gave me a packet about caring for the piercing. I signed a release form.

“Is it gonna hurt?” I asked, watching as she set out her instruments.

“God, Nora, you’re putting a needle in your boob. Of course, it’s gonna hurt,” Mila muttered.

Shayla nodded. “Yep, it will, but the worst is only about five seconds, then it eases up. You can do anything for five seconds, right?”

I scoffed, thinking about those measly five seconds. I’d endured much more pain, for a lot longer. So yeah, nipple piercing, not a big deal.

I nodded, and Shayla pulled out the forceps and needle. Mila gave a little squeak and scurried out the door. She wouldn’t be back.

Shayla cleaned my breast with a cold cotton ball, and I watched as she tugged and extended the nipple and then marked it half way between the top and base with a black marker. Once she had the mark on, she clamped it firmly with the cold forceps. I sat tense as she pushed the needle through, quickly following with the jewelry. A stinging pain hit me, and I clenched my teeth, trying to hold my breath until it passed. Instead, I thought about Leo, and how he said he saw the strength in me. She wiped the blood off my breast and gently attached the silver angel wings on either side. I let out a deep breath, thankful it was over.

“I’m not gonna set off any metal detectors, am I?” I said, staring down at my breast, liking how the florescent lights glinted off the silver wings.

She patted her chest. “I haven’t yet,” she said, grinning broadly, and I saw she had a cute little space between her two front teeth. An imperfection like that would drive Mother insane. “You’re a happy person,” I commented without thinking as I got up and carefully pulled my shirt on. I stuffed my bra in my purse.

She eyed me strangely. “Just because I have a lot of piercings and tats, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.”

“No, no. I just meant, I watch people a lot, and ever since we came in, you’ve seemed peaceful and—” I stopped talking and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, my mouth has no filter today.”

She shuffled around, cleaning up the gauze and paper. “That’s okay,” she said a few moments later. “I am happy. My boyfriend and I just got engaged this week, so I guess, maybe you saw that.”

I laughed nervously, glad the awkwardness had faded somewhat.

We walked out together and back to the front of the store where I found Mila, sitting on a leather couch peering at a tattoo book.

“Is it over?” she asked, her eyes focused on my breast.

“Yep, all over. Too bad you missed it,” I said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “Thank God.”

As we walked back to the shop, I got a text from Sebastian asking if we could meet him at the park. In a strange way, meeting him and Leo the other night felt fortuitous, like I’d caught a break for once in my life. I texted back and said I would meet him there.

Mila had to go home, so we said our goodbyes at the shop. After she left, I went inside and grabbed a towel from the closet and strolled the two blocks over to White Rock Lake, a thousand-acre lake and parkland. Although Aunt Portia’s shop wasn’t located in the premier area of Highland Park where I lived, this part of Dallas still featured million-dollar homes and plenty of imported cars. Even former President George W. Bush played golf sometimes at the exclusive course within the park.