All the Pretty Lies Read Online Free PDF Page A

He
just looks at me. For a few seconds, I’m lost to everything but
him—the look in his eyes, the way his hand feels hot as fire where
it rests against my skin, the way my breast aches for him to slide
his fingers up just a fraction of an inch.
    After at least a full disconcerting minute of
watching me without saying a single word, Hemi finally speaks,
surprising me. “Maybe we should give you a rest and finish up
later.” I see him glance at a place above my head. “You’ve been
here nearly two hours. That’s a long time under the needle.”
    I’m shocked. It feels like I’ve been here
only a few minutes. Or a lifetime. I’m not sure which. Kind of like
the way I feel about Hemi. On the one hand, he’s a perfect stranger
who gives me butterflies of a different kind every time he looks at
me. But on the other hand, in a way I feel like I know him. Like
we’re…connected. But not in the way one might think. I feel as
though there’s a tug of war going on. Between us as well as within
us. I’m the sheltered girl trying to break free and really live for the first time in her life. I’m striving to put
fear and reservation and hesitation aside in favor of seizing the
moment.
    But not Hemi.
    I get the feeling that he’s lived that way
for a long time, that he seized all of life’s moments until
something happened to make him stop. Stop and take notice. And slow
down. And distance himself.
    I could be way off base. But if I’m not, how
do two people like that meet in the middle? Or do they? Is that
even possible?
    Maybe I’m overthinking something that’s
merely fleeting. I mean, he’s giving me a tattoo. He didn’t ask me
to move in, for God’s sake.
    But still…
    I’m sure it’s psychotic as hell that I don’t
want the night to end, that I’m willing to endure such discomfort
to stay here a little longer.
    You’re pathetic. And desperate.
    But that other voice inside me pipes up
again, reminding me that there’s no time like the present. No one
is promised a tomorrow. We have today. Right now. Nothing more.
    Hemi’s hand over my ribs, rocking me gently
back and forth, shakes me out of my stupor. I don’t know how long
I’ve been watching him, thinking, saying nothing, but I’m guessing
too long. I nod and smile, pushing myself up into a sitting
position, protectively holding one arm over my chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” Hemi says, whirling around in
his chair to tend his equipment so he can give me a little
privacy.
    With my eyes glued to his broad shoulders, I
right my bra and fasten it. I pull down my shirt then reach for my
pants, tugging them up to where they belong.
    Hemi stands to throw something into the
garbage. When he turns back toward me, our eyes collide. That’s
when the impulse hits me. It slams into me like a gust of wind
going ninety miles an hour. It steals my breath and makes my heart
beat so hard that I can hear it in my ears. And for once in my
life, I put thought aside. I don’t overthink it. In fact, I don’t
think about it at all. Before I can change my mind, I slide off the
table and step toward him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t back up, just
stands tall and perfectly still. Watching me. I wonder if he knows
what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. What I’m about to do. And I
wonder if he’ll stop me.
    But I don’t overthink that either. If I do,
I’ll chicken out. And I can’t afford to chicken out on life
anymore.
    I take another step toward him, building up
the nerve to just do it, just kiss him. But Hemi surprises me when he takes the step that will bring us near enough to
touch.
    He’s so close, my chest almost brushes his
every time I inhale. I sway toward him the tiniest bit, craving the
contact. With him. A perfect stranger.
    “Sloane,” he whispers, the sound of my name
on his lips bringing chills to my arms again. He reaches out to
push my hair back over my shoulder. His fingertips linger on the
skin of my neck before they fall away.
    “Hemi,” I sigh,