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“I need a ride,” Lia announced, letting herself into his room without the courtesy of a knock.
“What does that have to do with me?” Michael quipped. He leaned further back into his pillows, though his mind was already calculating whether he should change. Then again, a pair of casual gray sweatpants and a red hoodie worked for almost any occasion.
“You’re going to give it to me, of course.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because the place I need to go is very interesting, and it would probably get me in deep trouble with Judd." A sharp smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Michael took a sideways glance at her outfit, wondering if her look—a long ruffled pink ballet skirt, a black tank top, a delicate lace white ribbon in her hair, and nude flats—could give him any clue about her destination. She looked like she was dressed for ballet practice. It certainly wasn't an outfit that screamed danger.
Regardless, Michael grabbed his keys off his nightstand and stood up. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”
Lia refused to give up their destination, insisting it would be better as a surprise. Michael found himself blindly following the GPS, which eventually led him to a tattoo shop in a distinctly sketchy part of town. It was definitely not the kind of errand he had been expecting. He sent Lia a quick, questioning glance, an unspoken are you sure this is the right place?
With a sly grin, she smoothly stepped out of the car and strolled right inside. Michael unbuckled his seatbelt and followed.
Lia, several paces ahead, didn't bother to wait for him, nor did she care to hold the door. It almost slammed in Michael's face, but he caught it just in time, slipping in behind her. The shop rang with the heavy smell of cigarettes, the sharp buzz of needles, and muffled grunts of pain. Lia certainly could have picked a safer, more expensive parlor.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. He definitely didn't look like he belonged among the buff, leather-clad men. Neither did Lia, for that matter, but confidence was half the game and Michael had endless amounts of it. Or, at the very least, he knew exactly how to fake it.
“Appointment for Sadie,” Lia told the heavily pierced guy at the front desk.
“You’re getting a tattoo?” Michael questioned, his eyebrows shooting up. Was Lia really the type to get inked? Part of him—the part that knew her insatiable thirst for rebellion—said yes. But another part wondered if Lia Zhang would actually want something permanent on her skin. A fixed mark wasn't exactly easy for a deception specialist to slip out of.
“Surprised?” Lia purred, turning back to face him. She twirled the end of her sharp, ebony ponytail around her finger.
“A bit,” Michael confessed as they followed the tattoo artist to a station in the back. He side-eyed her as they walked side by side. “Is this an impulsive thing, or did you actually think about it?”
“No, Michael,” she sighed dramatically. “I woke up this morning with absolutely no plan, no design, and no appointment booked.”
Michael hesitated, trying to read her expression.
“Of course I thought about it,” Lia filled in, rolling her eyes.
“What’s the design?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her skirt pocket and smoothed it out, handing it to the artist. Michael peered over her shoulder to see a sketch of a delicate purple flower.
“A flower?” he questioned.
“A lilac,” Lia corrected.
“A bit delicate for you, don’t you think?”
Lia turned to him, batting her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. “Whatever do you mean, Michael dearest? I am incredibly delicate and sweet."
Michael gave her a flat, pointed look.
She dropped the act just as fast. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t like it?”
“No, I like it. It’s pretty,” Michael replied honestly. “It just doesn’t exactly scream Lia Zhang.”
“It’s not meant to,” Lia murmured.
Before Michael could press further, she had already pivoted away from the conversation and settled onto the leather chair. The artist began prepping her skin, placing the stencil on her ankle exactly where she indicated. When the needle finally buzzed to life and touched her skin, Lia didn't flinch. But Michael was watching her closely. He caught the subtle clenching of her jaw and the way she gritted her teeth, fingers turning white from where they were gripping the arm rests.
"Painful?" Michael asked, even though he already knew the answer, crouching down beside her to meet her eyes.
"Not at all," Lia lied smoothly. "It feels like a feather tickling my skin."
"You know, you can hold my hand if the pain gets to be too bad," he teased. He meant it as a joke, but if Lia actually reached out, he would have let her. He knew her well enough to know she would rather die than admit vulnerability, though.
"As if," she scoffed, confirming his theory.
They didn't talk much after that, just a little mindless chatter about random topics. Whenever the needle brushed over a particularly painful spot, Michael noticed the tension in her forehead and promptly distracted her with light, meaningless conversation. He was nothing if not entertaining company.
Twenty minutes later, the tattoo was finished. It was small, resting low on her bare ankle—low enough that it could easily be hidden by socks or boots, but permanent all the same. Michael had heard somewhere that ankle tattoos were among the most painful placements, but Lia had handled it flawlessly.
Once they got back to the car, Michael finally voiced the question that had been burning in his mind ever since she handed the sketch to the artist. Lia was weirdly purposeful about everything she did. She wasn't the type to choose a design on a whim, which meant there had to be a deeper meaning behind it.
"So," Michael started, throwing the car into drive, "why a lilac?"
She merely offered a cryptic, razor-thin smile and turned her gaze out the passenger window, masterfully evading the question and leaving him only more intrigued.
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Lia kept the tattoo hidden beneath a layer of bandages for the next few days. It wasn't until a week later, when it was fully healed and they were all gathered around the breakfast table, that anyone noticed.
As Lia crossed her legs, Cassie’s eyes narrowed. She paused, fork halfway to her mouth, her eyebrows knitting together. "Is that a tattoo?" she asked, pointing at Lia’s ankle and instantly drawing everyone's attention.
"I want to see!" Sloane chirped, bouncing out of her chair next to Michael and darting over to Lia’s side of the table. She leaned down to inspect it. "A lilac?"
"Yep," Lia confirmed, leaning back in her chair. Cassie walked over too, crouching down beside Sloane to get a closer look.
"Lilacs symbolize spring, renewal, first loves, and innocence," Sloane rattled off automatically. She looked up at Lia, her head tilting. "What reason did you get yours for?"
Lia's lip ticked upward. "Trick question. All of the above."
"It's pretty, Lia," Cassie said with a smile, running a thumb lightly over the healed skin.
"Why thank you, Cassie. I'm glad it has your approval," Lia teased. "If you didn't like it, I would have had it lasered off tomorrow."
Cassie rolled her eyes, though her smile didn't fade.
Through his peripheral vision, Michael briefly registered a flash of dark, spiraled curls.
"Celine, come see! Lia got a tattoo!" Sloane called out as the other girl stepped through the front door.
"I already know. I was the one who designed it, after all," Celine stated smoothly, walking over to eye the finished product. Michael noticed a rare glint of approval in Celine's eyes. "It turned out quite nicely."
"Thank you for lending me your artistic talents," Lia retorted. Michael wasn't quite sure how she had managed to get Celine to sketch something other than a human face, but then again Lia Zhang was full of surprises.
Blackmail? Michael would have guessed it if he didn't already know that Celine didn't respond well to threats. Maybe a promise to help Celine win the heart of their resident statistical genius?
While the girls remained huddled in conversation, Michael leaned over and tapped Dean’s shoulder. "Did you know she was getting a tattoo?"
Dean nodded. "She told me a couple of days before she booked the appointment."
"Do you know why she chose a lilac?" Michael pressed.
Dean shrugged. "Yes."
Michael's eyes narrowed, a light tinge of annoyance rising at the brief response. "Care to fill me in?"
"You can ask Lia yourself about that one," Dean replied, turning back to his breakfast.
Useless, as always, Michael thought to himself.
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A couple of hours later, Michael went to Lia's room, only to find it empty. The glass window was propped open, however, a cool breeze rustling the curtains. With a sigh, Michael stepped outside onto the roof.
Lia was sitting on the ledge, the wind whipping strands of dark hair across her face. She looked thoughtful and strangely melancholy, Michael noted, his eyes automatically tracing the fleeting micro-expressions across her face.
"Care for some company?" he asked, already making his way over to sit beside her.
"As long as you're interesting," she responded, her head still tilted upward toward the sky without looking at him.
"Always am," Michael quipped, making himself at home. He didn't sit with her on the roof too often, but enough that being with her under the stars felt entirely natural. Lia usually preferred to go up here alone when she was pondering, though he knew she and Cassie had had their fair share of bonding moments on these shingles, too.
"Want to play truth or dare?" he offered.
"Too lazy to move for a dare."
"Fine. Let's play truth or truth instead."
"Okay," Lia shrugged, finally tilting her head to the side to meet his eyes.
Before she could change her mind, Michael jumped in. "My turn first. Why did you choose a lilac?"
Lia opened her mouth, closed it, and then looked off into the distance. For a second, Michael thought the deception specialist was going to construct a brilliant lie, or maybe just shut down entirely. But she didn't.
"Because it was my mother's favorite flower," she confessed quietly.
Michael stayed silent, letting the heavy words hang in the air, giving her the space to elaborate. She did.
Lia turned back to look at him, her eyes unusually bright. "She might not even remember that it was—if she's still out there. But it was, and I remember."
"Why now?" he asked softly.
"Because I'm starting to forget. I don't remember how she looked when she was laughing, or the exact shape of her eyes," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want to forget about her. I don't want to be the kind of person who just forgets because it's easier."
She let out a soft sigh, almost as if shedding the emotions. Then, just as quickly, her sharp demeanor slid back into place, her voice turning more even. More controlled. More powerful. "My turn. What do you really think about the tattoo?"
"I think it's beautiful," Michael replied. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her skin as he gently tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. "The design, and the meaning. It suits you."
And he meant it.
Lia's lips curved to the side. "Like I need your approval."
She was pleased though, Michael could tell.
"I know," Michael nodded.
It was true. She certainly didn't need his approval, not when she already had her own.