“Your turn, honey,” I say after a few quiet minutes.
She slips her cold hands up my shirt and runs them along my stomach. “Alright, well …”
We play another few rounds, learning the most random things about each other.
Calypso started ballet at eight, the year they moved to Amada Beach; her favorite movie isSugar & Spice, specifically because of Mena Suvari’s character; and she pierced her tongue when she was sixteen and got grounded for a month. That last one surprised me the most, but she said she only had it in for less than a year.
I used most of my best truths and lies in the first round but I was able to pull out a few more. I was on honor roll all through high school despite how often I was suspended; as well as the fact that my first car was a bright red mini van and I wanted to be a whale-watcher when I was a kid.
The game came to an organic ending as we became more interested in talking about all these new facts than in trying to guess.
It’s almost midnight but neither of us have made a move toward the bedroom yet. The whiskey is about a quarter empty and a few of the strawberries remain.
Forgetting the glass, Calypso lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a swig before chasing it with the chocolate-covered fruit. The boat jolts a little and the liquor dribbles down her chin.
With tender affection, I reach up and wipe the mess with my thumb.
There’s no embarrassment in her eyes, only sweet appreciation, and she snickers happily.
“You’re so beautiful,” I muse up at her.
Calypso is still straddling my lap and trying to hold her hair when the wind picks up. She’s wearing a little red striped knit set that hugs her body like a fucking glove. I’ve seen her smile more tonight than I ever have.
She’s not as grumpy as one would think, but she’s discerning with who she opens herself up to, even in small mundane ways. It makes those deep belly laughs and amused smirks all the more precious. Even the times when she’s in a bad mood or too far gone in her own head, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
She preens at my compliment but retorts, “You say that a lot.”
“I can stop,” I say and shrug.
Scoffing, she lightly smacks my stomach. “Don’t you dare. It was just an observation.”
“Tell me some others you’ve made.” I bend an arm behind my head.
She hums, thinking it over. “I know when you’re stressed because you check your pockets a lot, like you’re looking for something. But I know when you need to talk to me about something because your eyebrows furrow—” she presses her pointer finger between my brows, “—right here. It’s the only time you get this little tiny wrinkle. If we weren’t living together, you’d probably have another pet. I’ve seen the shelter’s website pulled up on your phone a few times. You don’t play video games but love watching streamers.”Ha, that’s true.She continues, “You prefer oat milk, which you could have told me from the beginning.” She gives me a disapproving look.
“I was just happy you were paying attention to me,” I say with a cheeky grin.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop. “You always do things with your right side first. When you’re getting dressed, it’s your right arm and leg first. When you’re putting on your shoes, you start with your right foot. It’s made me hyperaware of my own changing habits.”
My head tips back on a laugh. “Yeah, I had no idea I did that. Too late to change now.”
She snickers and walks her fingers up the sliver of skin from where she unbuttoned my shirt. “And you really,reallyenjoy eating pussy.”
That was probably the first “observation” she made.
“Yourpussy,” I say in a low tone. “I really fucking love eating your pussy, Calypso.”
“So,” she teases with a smirk, “it’s a new hobby of yours?”
“Nah,” I say. “I’ve always enjoyed it, butyouare fucking intoxicating—an addiction I never want to recover from.”
“It’s a very talented mouth,” she muses. “You won’t hear me complaining.”
Chuckling, I run my hands along her legs, trying to warm her up. It’s chilly despite the nearby heater.
With a hand on my chest, she leans over me. Our mouths hover only inches from each other. I stretch forward, trying to catch her lips for a kiss. Her hand slides up to my throat and she squeezes. Not hard but with enough pressure that I fall back into the cushions.
Tsking, she grabs the bottle of whiskey and uses a thumb to open my mouth.
