Inked In Love

City Lights

Hello Reader! This is actually a book that I wrote when I was in middle school but upon reading it for the first time in years I realize that it's not actually that bad. So I'll just be reworking and changing the chapters a bit to make the story flow better or just to improve the writing. I will be uploading the chapter when I can. Anyway, thank you for giving this book a try and tell me what you think. Btw this is my original story so do not copy market this story as your own. Now that that's out there I hope ya'll enjoy this story. Thanks for reading!

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My black leather boots scrape against the uneven concrete of the New York City sidewalks. I feel the crisp fall wind tease me with whips of an icy breeze. A rush runs up my spine reminding me of how damn stupid I was to not bring a jacket before I left. Not to mention in the middle of the fucking night. I tug at the ends of my black shirt trying to contain some of the heat that was escaping quickly.

I trudge down as fast as I could while I still have feeling in my toes. Tonight it's particularly energetic in this city strip. I look around at the brightly lit neon signs of various bars and clubs along street sides. One, in particular, that's especially mesmerizing with its bright colors and flashing lights. A club called the Devil's Den. One of the most popular on this strip. My dad used to go there and say that the color of his favorite cocktail matched the fiery red color of my mother's hair. That his drink was just as intoxicating as she was. He went there a lot. Suddenly I see a girl and three guys stumble out of the club's doors. The girl looks to be about eighteen with smeared makeup and disheveled brown hair. Her dress is hiked up to reveal her lacy black panties. She stumbles onto the ground and the three guys with her immediately picked her up and started leading her to a trunk. They looked older. Maybe old enough to be her father. I could hear her drunken laughter as she is dragged away. I scowl while I avert my gaze. I hated that damn place. So fucking much.

My senses immediately pipe up. I start to smell a whiff of marijuana lurking through the air. I look up instantly. A smirk creeps onto my lips.
Under the bright neon-lit sign of a tattoo parlor in the distance is a tall slim figure holding a joint to her puckered lips. I scoff knowing that since the lights are on in the shop my alcoholic boss made Jax work overtime. Without pay of course because my boss Paul is cheap. Like every other cheap alcoholic nobody out here.

"Hey, Lizzie!" I yell while waving my hand in the frigid air to get her attention. She turns her half-shaved head around. Her purple curls bounce with the sudden movement.

A smile forms on her navy blue lips. I could see her silver nose ring gleam from the artificial light above her.
She drops her joint to the ground and stomps on it to extinguish its embers. "Oh hey, Cat you came. Jax's stupid ass wouldn't let me in." Her sweet voice rings in the distance. I chuckle at how much her cute daddy's little girl voice contradicted with her hard gothic punk look. I know she hated it too. I start to jog towards her. Man, these leather boots are not good for running. Their flat as hell and falling apart at the seam. I finally catch up to her, joining her under the fluorescent light.
"Damn you look cold." I feel her feline-like eyes scrutinize my thin outfit. I look down to what I was wearing. My worn leather boots stopped just above my ankles and were paired over black leggings. Finally, I just had a baggy black sweatshirt with a picture of Patrick from Spongebob on it. A fashion icon am I right? I roll my eyes noticing her warm violet trench coat and blue patterned joggers that matched her oversized fuzzy blue beanie. Easy for her to say.
" Well, no shit Sherlock a certain someone made me come out here eleven o'clock at night to let her in."  She rolled her brown eyes while waving me off.

"Whatever I just forgot my scented candles and since Jax was working over time I thought he would let me in." Her features harden and sour at the mention of our friend Jax. She gives out a long exhausted sigh. "Guess I was wrong." Her tone was bitter while picking at her claw-like black acrylic nails. I felt a shiver run up my spine and remembered how fucking cold I was.