“Hm, okay,” she muses and assesses me. “I know you were arrested at least once in Amada Beach.” I chuckle.True. “The other two are way too specific, though.”
“Maybe that’s what makes them wrong,” I contemplate.
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “The mall psychic is the lie.”
Tapping the bottom of the glass, I tell her, “Drink, honey.”
She scoffs but does as I say. “There’s no way she dumped you because of that.”
“After nine months.”
Her eyes widen. “I should beat her up.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “For some reason, the image of you hitting a man is vivid but I can’t imagine it with a woman.”
She lets out a soft, dramatic sigh. “No, you’re right. Who’s to say the psychic wasn’t right? Maybe she stopped impending death.”
Now I roll my eyes. “Let’s not forget about my broken heart.”
Leaning forward, she teases, “Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize you were so hung up on her.” Her lips brush against mine. “I could have sworn there was only one woman on your mind, right?”
I slide my hands over her hips, careful not to hit her tattoo, and squeeze her ass. “Right. Who’s to say the psychic wasn’t leading me to you?”
“Exactly,” she says and kisses me. “Give the woman more credit.”
“Sorry, Madame Nicole,” I say mockingly.
With piqued interest, she asks, “Which one is the lie?”
“I was only arrested twice as a teenager,” I say. “Rude of you to assume so poorly of me.”
She holds her hands up in surrender. “My bad for not assuming you made your mom clean your jizz socks.”
Bobbing my head uncertainly, I say, “You have two brothers.”
“Ew!” She laughs. “So, stealing the sailboat and …?”
“I got caught spray painting an abandoned warehouse,” I say easily.
“Wow,” she draws out. “Teenage Calypso would have loved you.”
I smile. “She liked trouble?”
Calypso sways her upper body, thinking it over. “She was always looking for trouble but never found the kind she craved.”
“And now?” I ask.
Her eyes find mine. “Maybe sometimes, but—” she shakes her head, “—I think I’ve grown too attached to my own peace. It’s lost its sparkle.”
That makes me laugh. “Fair enough. It’s not as fun once that adolescent fearlessness starts to wear off.”
Maybe it was the day I turned eighteen, or it could have happened gradually. But one day, I woke up and just feltdifferent. That sense of maturity I always carried with me, similar to the one Calypso holds like a comfort blanket,felt a lot more fragile. As I was stepping into the world, I realized I didn’t actually know nearly as much as I had always believed.
That’s when life got real, and all of my past shitty choices started to come into perspective.
Her lips tilt in sad understanding. “God, I miss that feeling.”
I nod in confirmation, familiar with that particular nostalgia.
