Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
LYRIC
Is Yuri going to leave before the summer is even over?
Did I ever really get over it the first time he left? I know it’s not fair—I told him to go, I practically pushed him out the door—but part of me always wished that he’d decided to stay instead. Maybe if I’d just told him I didn’t want him to leave… but I didn’t want to hold him back…
Ugh, too many hard thoughts before my eyes are even open.
I groan and roll over, my body heavy and tired still, even if my brain is out of the gate at full speed.
I reach over blindly and feel around the top of my nightstand for a joint and a lighter, but instead my hand collides with something large and solid that shouldn’t be there, and whatever it is topples over and makes a concerning sound when it hits the floor.
I force my eyes open. This isn’t my bedroom…
I guess that explains the lack of wake and bake and the seashell lamp on the floor that I hope isn’t as broken as it sounded. Shit.
I sit up and rub my eyes. I might have a couple of edibles left in my pocket, but otherwise I’m going to have to raw dog my brain for now.
Hey, if I’m in Yuri’s room, where is he?
I blink around the small space for a second, and when he doesn’t appear out of thin air (and neither do my clothes), I yawn again and swing my legs over onto the floor.
I pick up the lamp and check for damage.
One of the seashells broke off, but otherwise it actually looks okay.
I set it back on the nightstand and turn it on just to be sure, then put the broken seashell next to it.
Maybe I can get some glue and fix it later.
I probably have some glue at my house. Where though?
I start mentally sorting through my junk drawers, trying to picture what’s in each one as I shuffle out of the bedroom and down the hall.
Do I need a special kind of glue for a seashell lamp?
The shell is probably too heavy for regular glue.
Maybe I need the kind that’s so strong that if you accidentally get it on your skin you have to get skin grafts.
Honestly, not sure I’m qualified to even use glue like that.
Do they sell that shit at the regular store? Seems kind of dangerous.
My thoughts chatter too loudly in my head all the way to the kitchen. Yuri’s sitting at the small round kitchen table with a steaming mug next to him and his laptop open. He glances up and the smile that spreads across his lips makes me feel too much.
He’s going to leave again.
“Do you have any dangerous glue?”
Both his eyebrows go up. “Dangerous glue?”
“Yeah, the kind that’s strong enough to glue a seashell back onto your lamp. Sorry, I knocked it over. Did I have clothes when I came over last night? I could have sworn I did, but I’ve been wrong about that kind of thing before.”
“Uh…” He gives me a wide-eyed look, then laughs. “No on the ‘danger glue,’ yes on the clothes. I threw them in with my load of laundry when I woke up because everything got kind of mildewy on the bathroom floor overnight. I swear, I’ll never get used to the humidity here.”
Oh, bummer, so much for my edibles.
“I checked your pockets before I put them in. I didn’t want to ruin your phone or anything. Your stuff is on the counter.”
I spin in the direction he’s pointing and see a small pile of my things.
My phone, which seems to be dead when I pick it up and tap on the screen, a couple of random seashells I found on the beach (maybe I could glue those to his lamp too, if I ever get ahold of some glue), and a baggie with one joint left in it.
Halle-fucking-lujah, because I’ve only been awake ten minutes and I’m not sure how much longer I can take these racing thoughts.
I fish the joint out of the baggie and stick it between my lips, then grab the lighter that’s on the counter with the rest of my stuff.
“I don’t mind if you smoke inside, just come over here and do it by the window.” Yuri waves me over and gets up to open the windows near the table. “You want coffee? I’ll go get your clothes too; they should be dry by now.”
I catch him around the waist as he tries to move past me. He smiles and lets me pull him close, draping his arms over my shoulders and playing with the messy knot of hair at the base of my neck.
“Good morning,” I murmur, because I haven’t had the chance to say that to him in too damn long, and it feels nice, even if it’s only temporary.
“Morning,” he murmurs, and our lips meet in a soft, slow kiss.
I let him go and he disappears to get my clothes while I sit down near the open window and spark my joint, dragging in a deep breath, letting the familiar burn in my throat ground me and the buzz settle all of my thoughts into something much more manageable.
I only need a couple of tokes to take the edge off, then I stub it out on the windowsill and tuck what’s left behind my ear for later.
“I don’t know if you’re up for it, but I had my schedule mixed up and I actually have today off if you still want to do that hike we talked about.” Yuri sets a stack of my neatly folded clothes on the table before going over to the coffee maker and filling another mug.
“I’m up for it. It’s a nice hike, I think you’ll like it.”
“Cool.” He sets the coffee down and takes his seat again, closing his laptop and picking up his mug for a sip.
“Sorry about your lamp.”
He snorts a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. It was here when I moved in.”
“Oh, okay, good. I’ll still fix it though.”
“Once you get a hold of some dangerous glue?” he teases.
“Safe glue just won’t do the trick.”
He nods solemnly and we fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the warm breeze coming in through the window and sipping our coffee.
How could anyone not love island life? Maybe I just need to show Yuri that there’s more to Palm Island than running himself ragged at the bar and sand in his shoes.
The rainbow carousel is a good start. If he falls in love with this place, he might stay, and if he stays…
Well, I don’t want to get my hopes up.
YURI
Sweat is coating just about every inch of my skin, and my clothes are pretty much a lost cause at this point, soggy and drenched. But maybe it’s like exposure therapy, because I seem to have reached my limit for distress and gone numb to the feeling.
“Not much farther,” Cooper says, walking at a steady pace just ahead of me, holding low hanging branches out of the way and clearing the path of debris as we go.
He’s so thoughtful without even trying—it’s not hard to remember why I fell so hard for him in the first place, and why he’s always been the one I couldn’t let go.
“I think I’ve ascended to a new plane of consciousness. I’m above the petty concerns of sweat and aching muscles now,” I joke.
“Yeah, finishing off that joint together before we started hiking was a good call,” he says, and I giggle. He’s right, that probably helped.
This is what I came to Palm Island for, not to prove to myself that I can hack it as a bartender but to challenge myself, to get outside of a routine that was slowly draining all the life out of me and feel something again.
It’s invigorating. Birds call back and forth to each other from all directions, and I pull out my phone and open up an app I haven’t had much chance to use that identifies bird calls.
I capture a few and save the entries it pulls up so I can read about the birds later, then I do the same with an app that identifies plants.
Cooper doesn’t seem impatient at all, stopping and waiting while I take pictures of flowers and mushrooms and random leafy greens I’ve never seen before.
He shakes his hair out of the knotted bun and it cascades over his shoulders, clinging to his glistening skin.
His shirt came off about half a mile into our hike and has been tucked into the back of his shorts ever since.
I’m definitely not about to complain about the view.
“In case no one warned you, the carousel mostly doesn’t work.”
“Yeah, Bird said something about that.” I feel too silly to mention that he also said something about it running on love or soulmates or whatever ridiculous magic someone must have dreamed up years ago that managed to get passed on as an island legend.
“It works sometimes, but it’s unpredictable. Goose was dead set on fixing it for ages, and he claims he did, but the last time I tried it, it still didn’t work.”
“What was Goose doing to fix it?”
He shrugs. “Hell if I know. He’s an electrician. Or an electrical engineer. Something electrical. He said he replaced all the wiring and the whole panel but it still wouldn’t work, and then he came up here with Pete and ever since then he swears it’s fixed.”
I hum, more and more curious about this mysterious carousel. Maybe it really was as simple as a wiring problem that everyone chalked up to magic. It wouldn’t be the first time a group of people opted for mythology over logic.
Cooper holds another low branch out of the way, and I duck under it before stepping out into a field of stunning purple wildflowers with the carousel sitting right in the middle.
The sun shines down on it, making the metallic pieces glint and glitter, and the flowers sway in a gentle breeze.
A sense of awe and wonder fills my chest. It’s not hard to see why anyone thought there was magic here.
It’s so quiet and far away from the world, it’s the kind of place that gives you that feeling, no matter how logical you are.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“Nice, huh?” Cooper slides his fingers between mine and tugs me through the open field towards the carousel.
“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe someone hauled all the materials all the way up here to build this.”
“It was an anniversary present from the founder of the island, Harold, to his partner George. There’s a museum with letters and stuff they owned downtown. Raven takes care of the place.”
“How am I only hearing about this now? I love a good museum.” Come to think of it, Boston might have mentioned it during the tour on the first day, but I was probably too busy freaking out about seeing Cooper to pay attention.
“We can go sometime,” he offers. “If you don’t decide to hop the ferry back to the mainland early.”
“Why would—”
“Come on, let’s see if Goose was right. I’ve never actually seen this thing work.” He pulls me faster until we’re running through the field of wildflowers, surprised laughter dancing on my lips. “Pick a horse,” he says when we reach the carousel.
I hop up onto the platform and run my hands over the nearest horse.
It’s smooth, probably made from fiberglass, its paint slightly faded from the sun, with several sets of initials scratched onto its neck, each in a little heart.
Most of the horses look similar, smooth and faded, just in different poses and colors.
There’s one that’s out of place though. I wonder if it’s the only original one left.
It’s weathered and feels like it was carved out of wood.
I pick that one, swinging a leg over and settling on its narrow saddle while Cooper fiddles with the control panel.
Whatever combination of buttons he presses brings the lights to life, casting a rainbow glow over all the animals.
“See, that should have done it.” He shakes his head and mashes the button a couple more times.
“Bummer.” I sigh. “It’s still cool, even if it doesn’t work.” I wave him up to sit with me and he hops onto the platform and claims the horse right next to mine.
It’s silly, but there’s a shred of disappointment in my chest. I don’t believe in soulmates or magic, but I guess there’s a superstitious part of me that hoped it would work so I could have a little reassurance that I’m here for a reason and not just opening up old wounds.
“It is cool even if it doesn’t work,” he agrees, leaning over and hanging in the space between our horses, waiting for me to meet him halfway. I grin and lean in, meeting his smiling lips with mine.
The carousel lurches and slightly spooky old-timey music sputters through the speakers for half a second, jolting us apart with a laugh. It stops just as quickly though, and the lights flicker out.
“Definitely seems like a wiring problem,” I say.
We sit for a few minutes before Cooper hops off and grabs my hand again, dragging me along with him.
“Where are we going now?” I ask with a laugh. He stops a few feet away from the carousel, in the field, and pulls me down onto the blanket of tall grass and purple flowers. “Do you know how many bugs are crawling around in here?”
“Shh.” He chuckles and guides my head down to rest on his shoulder. “Bugs aren’t going to hurt you. Look.” A fuzzy bumble bee floats by and Cooper holds his hand up flat. The bee lands on it, crawls around for a second, then takes off again on his busy journey to pollinate all the flowers. “See?”
I nod and try not to think about ticks or any of the more concerning bugs that likely live in the grass.
“Hey, that cloud looks like a palm tree.” I point it out.
“It totally does. And that one looks like my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Castallano.”
I snort a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “Shut the fuck up, no it doesn’t.”
“I swear to god, it’s her exact profile.” He holds his hand up again like he’s swearing an oath.
I tilt my head and press a kiss to his chin, then turn my attention back to the clouds. After a few minutes I’m not worried about bugs at all, and that’s how we pass the afternoon, looking at clouds together in a field of wildflowers that kind of feels like magic, even if it isn’t.