The Same Deep Water Read Online Free PDF

the dolphins, but not me.”
    “Aww. Poor you,” he says and I bristle at his dismissive tone. “I don’t like dolphins. I prefer sharks.”
    “Won’t they attack you if you climb in the water with them, though?”
    “Nah. I don’t taste that good.”
    I bet he does.
    Guy manoeuvres the car onto the street, and turns the music back up, the local chart hits station blasts out ending conversation.
    Tucked away on an industrial estate, between an air-conditioning unit distributor and a plumbing warehouse, the skulls on the black painted sign of the small tattoo studio look out of place. Without Guy, I doubt I’d have found this.
    Guy climbs out and walks around the side of the car and, before I have a chance to, opens the door for me. “Thanks,” I say, surprised by his chivalrous gesture.
    After the cool of the car, the humidity washes over me and I’m grateful I wore a short summer dress. Guy scratches his head.
    “Where’re you having the tattoo?” He indicates the length of my body with his hand. “‘Cause you don’t want to have to get naked. Shorts and shirt would’ve been better.”
    “On my collarbone!” I retort.
    “Shame.” He strides away.
    The fact Guy just implied he wanted to see me naked, momentarily blanks the fear somebody is going to pierce my skin with a multitude of needles.
    Inside the studio, photos of clients’ tattoos and example art cover the bright red walls. A girl with blue hair and a sleeve of tattoos emerging from her baggy, black t-shirt looks up. “Hey. Got an appointment?”
    I clutch my bag, feeling as if I’ve walked into the waiting room at the doctors, although she’s unlike any medical receptionist I’ve ever seen.
    “Hey, Lola. Wes is expecting us,” says Guy and indicates me.
    Lola flicks me a look. “God, I hope she’s not getting an infinity symbol on her wrist – or a Southern Cross, Wes’ll refuse.”
    “No, she’ s not,” I retort.
    A middle-aged man with a crew cut appears in the doorway; when he spots Guy, he seizes him in a bear hug. “Hey, mate, how’s it going?”
    Guy claps him on the back. “Not too bad. Yourself?”
    “This the virgin?” Wes asks Guy and looks at me.
    Despite strong attempts not to, I turn bright pink. Guy arches a brow.
    “Tattoo virgin, I mean,” says Wes with a chuckle. “In you go, sweetheart.” He gestures to the open door.
    “Want me to hold your hand?” asks Guy. “You look pale. Are you worried?”
    “No. I’m good.”
    As I edge past Guy, he leans in. “You never added that to your bucket list,” he whispers.
    I shiver against his breath tickling my ear. “Added what?”
    He steps back and crosses his arms. “V-card, Phe.”
    “Shut up!” I snap. “Don’t make assumptions about me!”
    “You’re so proper. Do you ever swear? If I were you, I would’ve told me to fuck off.”
    I straighten and meet his eyes. “I will if you make any more comments like that.”
    Guy shakes his head with another smile then turns away. “Hey, Lola. Can you take a look and suggest whereabouts I should put my next tattoo?”
    “Take a look where?” she replies, looking up from her phone.
    “Wherever you like.” He perches on the desk and sweeps a hand, indicating the length of his body.
    “Sure, Guy. Why not ask your girlfriend instead?” She points her phone at me.
    I wait for Guy’s response with interest, but Wes ushers me through a black door before Guy replies.
    The couch in Wes’s room reminds me of my local GP, grey and covered in white paper. Ohmigod, will I bleed everywhere? The cramped room is covered in more pictures, and there’s a small desk holding a large folder and picture frames containing photos of smiling kids.
    “You need help choosing?” Wes asks.
    This man is an advertisement for his craft, ink spreading across every revealed inch of skin, a mash of colours and pictures that would take a good study to decipher. They stop at his neck, where a red and black skull decorates the