The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

6. Chapter 6

six

Quinn

" Q uinn! Quinn!" He yelled my name. My head shot up, and I saw Alexander jogging towards me. My head was telling me to keep on moving. I pushed past people rushing down the museum's steps and made my way towards the street. Ignore him, Quinn. My head kept on repeating, reminding me. Alexander was older, and he was dangerous; he had tattoos. Your parents would never approve. He kept calling my name as I kept my gaze on the ground until an arm slipped around my waist and drew me back.

My eyes widened as a car sped by not even a second later, I could register the sound of their horn. Holy shit, I was almost hit. My book bag was now on the ground, and some of my belongings had also fallen out onto the ground. I turned around and came face to face with Alexander, who stared down at me. My heart was racing at the fact that he was physically touching me. His arm was still holding my waist, drawing me closer to him. "You could have gotten hurt, little butterfly."

He pointed out the obvious, and butterflies swarmed my stomach as my hands rested on his stomach due to his height. My god, was his stomach rock hard. I was sure he had a six-pack. Wait, no, he definitely had an eight-pack. I let go, and he released me. I gathered my things from the ground, and Alexander picked up my sketchbook and handed it to me.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"You need to watch where you're crossing," he chastised, and I could only nod my head in understanding. I pushed his arm away from my waist and stood up. "I have to go. Thank you, but I have a portfolio to complete. Goodbye Alexander."

"Quinn, do you need inspiration?" He yelled out behind me, and I paused my hurried steps.

"What makes you think I need inspiration?" I asked.

"A lucky guess," he replied. A long beat passed before I turned my head and sought out his gaze, his eyes burning me.

Alexander approached me, getting closer. He towered over me, his hand caressing my cheek. His gaze was intense, but I couldn't look away as if it were holding me—prisoner. He swallowed, and I could see his Adam's apple move. "Because I can see it in your eyes. You' re struggling, and something tells me you need my help."

My parents were currently at my grandma's house, meaning they wouldn't know what I did. I might as well experience something worthwhile for once in my life. But do I trust Alexander? I barely know him. What if he tried to kidnap? Or worse… What if he killed me? I snapped back into reality when I felt Alexander's hand drop, no longer caressing my cheek. If he killed me, I would be dead. If he didn't and my parents found out I broke one of their rules, I would be dead. The choice was easy.

"You're right. I need inspiration. Let's do this," I said, tilting my head upward to stare into his eyes.He tilted his head and signaled me to follow him, and I did. He walked ahead of me, and I caught up to walk beside him. My thoughts were going wild.

Holy shit!

I was currently following a man without a chaperone. If someone told my parents they had seen me with a tattooed sex god, I would be in trouble. My parents and the Mother Superior have drilled into me the dangers of being with a man alone.

Sin. Absolute sin.

We walked for a few more minutes and then turned left, walking straight into an alley. I looked at my surroundings, getting lost for a few seconds. I began to power-walk to catch up to Alexander while still looking around when I knocked into something, or, should I say, someone. My hands immediately grabbed onto his biceps to steady myself.

"Sorry," I muttered as he turned around. We reached a brick wall. Alexander got my book bag from me, and once my bag was secured on him, he easily jumped the wall.

Damn! There is no way I would be able to jump this. "Alexander," I whispered and hissed all at once. Was he really forgetting that I was five feet three inches tall and that this wall was definitely a good five inches taller than me? Okay, focus Quinn. You could do this. I could do this. I grabbed the top of the wall and tried to lift myself up. I tried to throw a leg over but failed and fell back down. I was never really good at pull-ups. All my body strength was in my legs. I had no upper body strength whatsoever. As I tried to devise a plan, my gaze met Alexander, and I saw him leaning against the wall, looking all too amused.

Asshole.

"How tall are you?" He asked.

"I'm like five foot three. Can you help me, please?" I mumbled, and he nodded. He then extends his hands for me to take. Accept it. You asked for help, remember. Take his hand, Quinn. Allow him to touch you. Why the hell was I doubting this? It wasn't against the law or something. I grabbed his hand, and he helped me scale the wall. Now that I had some assistance, I reached the top and got one leg over the wall, followed by the second leg. Now, I can jump over it effortlessly. To secure my landing, his hands reached for my waist.

Once my feet hit the ground, I said, "Thank you; I appreciate it." I got my backpack from the ground, where I assumed he had left it so that he could help me.

Alexander moved ahead and into a tunnel. Holy shit! Okay, I won't lie. I was a little scared. This was starting to become somewhat strange.As I continued to follow him, I couldn't help but think that this man did not make small talk at all. He was cold, and I wasn't referring to his lack of heat when he touched me. I was referring to myself. He was reticent and mysterious, and I wanted to learn more about him. I wanted to know who Alexander was, but I was unsure if that was even his name.

He stopped walking as we both reached a dead end. He turned to face me, and with a serious expression on his face, he said, "This is it. "

I looked to my right and then to the left. What the hell did he mean, "This is it?" This place was rubbish. There was nothing here but graffiti decorating the walls; then, to my right, there was a blank wall.

He found this inspiring. You have to be kidding me.

I looked at him as I shook my head at him, my face showing confusion. "What is this? This is not inspirational, Alexander." He gave me a teasing smile. This was the first time I saw him smile or what I would consider a somewhat smile. He made his way over to a trash can and crouched to pick up a black backpack behind the trash. He opened the bag that was filled with spray cans. He took one of the spray cans, giving me one last look before he began to spray paint.

I laughed, thinking it was cute that he thought I'd find this inspirational. What the hell was he doing? Alexander looked back at me, turned to the blank wall, and then went back to painting his wall. I stood there awkwardly, and I had to admit that I secretly liked his eyes on me.I liked the way he would analyze my face.

It felt like Deimos.

The way he stared at me—watching me.

I looked at Alexander once again and came to the realization that—holy shit, he was drawing me, and he was doing it so effortlessly. Could it be possible that I was his inspiration?

"You said you wanted inspiration, little butterfly," he mentioned as he continued to spray paint.

"Well, here you go." He threw the spray paint into the bag as I stared at myself. He really was talented. It was beautiful. It looked like me.

My nose.

My lips.

My eyes.

Even my freckles were included. I laughed because he even drew my scar and used the correct color for my hair.

"Me?"

"You," he said with a tug on his lips. This was the second time he smiled somewhat.

"How can a painting of myself be my inspiration?" I questioned.

He walked closer to me and took my bag from my hands. He placed it by the bag of spray paints, picked one up, and handed me the spray paint can. I grabbed the can and walked towards the wall. Alexander leaned against it and placed his foot on the wall, holding himself for balance with his arms folded over his chest. "You tell me? Fix it, little butterfly."

"Fix what?" I asked, not understanding what he wanted me to do. I couldn't and wouldn't ruin his artwork.

"Fill this wall with your creativity. Let me see what fuels your desire, your passion, and your love for art." I looked down at the can in my hands and smiled. What was it about this that piqued my interest? Why did I find myself enjoying what I was about to do? I pulled my earbuds from my skirt pocket and put them into my ears. This time, I listened to the music that started playing instead of listening to an audiobook. The inspiration flowed through me with each spray, and I added to his art.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and grabbed another color from the bag. It took me close to an hour, but I relished every single minute of it. I made a few mistakes while I learned how to spray paint. Alexander's gaze never left me. He watched for all sixty minutes. Whenever I went to grab a new color, his eyes were on me, and I felt his every stare. Once I got the hang of things, it was like my hand had a mind of its own, and I suddenly began drawing butterflies. But not just any butterflies; I painted blue morpho butterflies.

What the hell ?

I took a step back and took in the scene before me. It had to be because he called me little butterfly. I mean, what other logical explanation was there? I looked back, and I found Alexander was still there, his eyes on the artwork in front of him. He didn't leave me, he stayed. Why? I swallowed the lump that was lodged in my throat, and my grip tightened around the can. He pushed himself off the wall and headed toward me.

"So?" He asked as he brushed the loose strands of hair away from my face. He did it. I had my inspiration for my portfolio. And now, I knew that my inspiration was myself. I looked up at him, and he glanced down at me.

"I have my inspiration," I whispered softly. He nodded, and suddenly, a siren could be heard in the distance, getting closer and closer. My eyes widened, and Alexander chuckled.

"Drop the can, grab your bag, and get ready to run." He walked effortlessly while I stood frozen. What?

"Run? Why Alexander? Are we getting arrested?" I was rumbling my words. That stupid son of a bitch looked at me and laughed.

"It's pretty obvious, sweetheart, that we painted illegally." He smirked his stupid smirk. My eyes popped out of my head and went into action. I dropped the can and picked up my book bag, slinging it over my shoulder. He started to run, and my heart beat faster as I chased after him.

As we pushed past the crowds in London, he grabbed my hand in his— running faster. I thanked my lucky stars for always being a fast runner, which helped me keep up with Alexander. It was rush hour, and I could hear the cops yelling after us.

OH MY GOD! My parents would absolutely disown me if I got arrested, but the thrill I felt throughout my body was electrifying. I enjoyed the rush and the adrenaline running through my bloodstream. Alexander did not let go of my hand. If anything, he intertwined our fingers, holding me tighter. He held my hand the entire run—never letting go as he made sure that I was always behind him.

"HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"STOP!"

Alexander pushed us inside a tight alleyway. My body was pressed against the wall, and his own. My breathing was loud, so he pushed his hand against my mouth to keep me silent. I had never been so close to a man before. I could feel every inch of his hard chest. He smelled good—really fucking good. The scent of his shirt clung to my nose, which he also tried to cover with his big hand. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me.

"Where did they fucking go!" One of the cops said, frustrated.

"I bet you it was the same prat motherfucker." The other police officer said.

"Bloody hell! I can't believe I fucking ran for this bullshit. Come on, let's get some coffee. My treat." I scoffed out a laugh; Alexander's eyes widened as he nudged me to keep silent. "What was that?" One of the officers spoke.

"Probably a couple of teenagers trying to get lucky. Let's go. That's too much paperwork, and I'm hungry." The officers departed, and we stayed for a few minutes before he peaked his head out to check his surroundings. Alexander glanced back down at me and removed his hand from my mouth.

"I should umm…get going," I whispered, not wanting to leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted his company, and that was a first for me. The first sign I should have seen coming.

This man is addictive.

I wanted to keep feeling these sensations colliding inside me. This was exhilarating. Exquisite. Intoxicating. The adrenaline was out of this world, and I loved every second of it. I loved feeling so free. But then, Sophie's words came back to me like thunder.

'He's dangerous'

Alexander didn't seem dangerous or even close to it. He might be a bad boy with tattoos, but didn't all good girls want a bad boy who would only be good for them?

"Where do you live?" He asked as we both came out of the alleyway.

"Just down the road from Abbey Road." He nodded his head and signaled me to walk.

"I'll take you home," he said. I stared at him momentarily, then I scoffed, shaking my head.

"Oh, no that's okay—" I told him while shaking my head. "I don't want to trouble you. Really, I can take a cab back. Thank you, Alexander, for today. I had fun. Well, it was pretty amazing." I said and waved down a cab, not giving him a chance to protest. Alexander watched me slip inside. I gave him a soft smile before I let the driver know my address. He drove off, and Alexander continued to watch the cab drive away.