Skin of a Sinner: A Dark Childhood Best Friends Romance(22)

“Remember the day before you left, when we went to the bookstore?” With each passing second, her skin glows redder and redder. I cock my head. Why is she so flustered about the fact I got it for her? She picked it off the shelf, read the back, then checked how much she had in her wallet. Then promptly put it back. “I’ve held on to it since then.”

“You…” She’s completely beet red as she blinks a couple more times at my outstretched hand. Bella clears her throat and sits up straighter. “You can’t afford it.”

“Money can’t buy everything.”

Translation: I stole it.

My lips stretch into a grin. “But I’ll give this to you on one condition?”

“What?”

Her breath hitches, and she leans forward slightly, looking around again like someone might catch us doing something illegal.

“You read it to me.”

She blanches, completely mortified, before turning redder than she was before. Whipping her head around, she spots the only person in earshot—one person with headphones—and then she covers the side of her mouth like the guy might hear, and she squeals, “That’s an R18 book.”

Oh. Oh, this is too good. I tsk and lean back against the bench. “Unrestricted access to written porn will ruin you, kid.”

Naughty, naughty girl.

To a bystander, it probably looks like we’re dealing drugs with how quickly she snatches the book from me and shoves it into her bag.

“Thank you,” she says under her breath. An adorable wrinkle forms along the bridge of her nose.

I chuckle and take it as my cue to move on to the next gift—something that won’t get her so wound up: a heart-shaped locket. There are a bunch of random ass swirls on the outside, and I know she’ll swoon over how “pretty” and “delicate” it is. Which is why the necklace is perfect for her.

“How did you afford—Who does this belong to, Mickey?”

“You.”

“Roman,” she warns.

I wince internally. She’d never wear something special that belonged to someone else, and I only have so much adult money—but my latest extra-curricular activities have changed that. I don’t make much, but the very first thing I bought was that necklace. I mean, it also meant that I had to skip a few meals, but it was worth it for her.

I’m not the best with my hands—not in the way that I want in this situation. I have my drawings, and Bella has her bracelets and anything else she puts her mind to, but it’s not enough.

Bella is sentimental, and I want to give her something that will withstand beating a window or running away from the cops—if she ever needed to. If we’re ever separated, a part of me will always be with her, around her neck and near her heart.

Though nothing will ever separate us. If she hasn’t realized it by now, she’s in for a surprise.

“I saved money.” Not a lie, but I’m not ready to tell Bella the whole truth just yet.

“Roman—"

“I promise you, no one has ever worn it but you. Now shut up and turn around.”

She doesn’t listen. Of course, she doesn’t listen. She narrows her eyes, completely disbelieving. “When did you get this?”

“Like, six months ago.” 163 days ago, to be precise.

Her shoulders sag a fraction. “But you didn’t even know if I was coming back.”

“I knew. Now, turn around. Put it on.”

She gingerly takes the necklace from me, and I admit, I almost keep it out of her reach. I should be the one to put it on her. Bella fiddles with the clasp, and my stomach drops. I wanted it to be perfect, and this is less than that. She deserves so much more than the shit I put inside the locket.

All my worries and concerns that she would frown at how terrible it is, vanishes when her lips curve into a smile, and a soft little giggle leaves her.

She runs her finger over the right side of the locket, where there’s a picture of Mickey Mouse that I cut out from a magazine. On the left, in small handwriting, it says “Roman (aka the real Mickey).” This way, it isn’t just me who’s kept close to her heart, it’s her mother, too.

Bella’s obsession with Mickey Mouse started because of her mamá, but she never managed to find any photos of her, just like there aren’t any (non-government taken) photos of me.

“Mickey,” she breathes as she looks up at me, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is beautiful.”

“I know.”

Her warm smile doesn’t disappear when she rolls her eyes or when she hands me the necklace to secure around her neck.

Before she can turn around, I have the next gift out of the bag. A—you guessed it—Mickey Mouse keychain. Honestly, there’s this weird trend with Mickey Mouse going on, but I couldn’t give a shit as long as it puts a smile on her face. I have no memories outside of Bella that I want to keep alive. Still, I will do everything I can to make sure her happiness is immortalized, even if that means having an excessive amount of Mickey Mouse stickers all over both of our things so she’s taken back to Disneyland with her mamá.

Bella claims she’s sick of the thing, but it doesn’t stop her from pausing whenever she sees that damn mouse like she is now.

Our kids will probably be just as obsessed with the rodent.