Chapter Thirty
Liam
After a day exploring Newport, Calypso and I are lying on the sundeck after everyone has gone to bed.
She’s sprawled on my chest as we watch the waning crescent moon glide across the night sky and listen to the lapping waves. My hands are on her hips but I’m careful not to bump her new tattoo.
Smiling to myself, I think about the little heart-shaped vintage cake she got on the side of her ass. I have a new scorpion on my left thigh, above the ring of fire.
While walking around Newport after lunch, we discovered a Friday the 13th flash sale at a woman-owned tattoo shop. We were the only two who decided to get a tattoo as the rest of the group went to a local bookstore around the corner.
We had to choose from their predesigned sheet and there were a few options I kept coming back to, but ultimately the scorpion won out.
Calypso didn’t ask why I chose that, even though she watched me with a weird expression after I picked it. She’s a scorpio.
If she wanted to know, I’d tell her the truth: it did influence me.
After I told Calypso I was hers, I didn’t expect any big declaration on her end. I know she’s mine for another two months, but I don’t want to make assumptions about the trajectory of our relationship. It’s hard not to when I’m still living in her house.
Going into week three, I had started to look at some potential rental options. My choices were unlimited at that point, but honestly, the thought of moving out sucked. I wasn’t going to push Calypso for more time, though.
The same night she saw the listings on my phone, she mentioned wanting to be more intentional with her grocery shopping and meal planning for the week.
She said we could plan for the following week depending on what was available at the farmer’s market, but I’d probably need to stop at the grocery store on my way home.
Yup, she said the word home. I had to stop myself from streaking down the street, or something equally ridiculous, out of pure happiness. I don’t think showing my bare ass to the whole town would help our initial cause anyway.
The next night, she asked if I would be around in a few weeks to sign for Vivi’s wedding gift when it’s delivered.
I slowed my search but kept a few options in my favorites folder, just in case.
A few mornings later, she mentioned wanting to buy a new mattress and wanted my input since “I sleep there too.” Her exact words.
There was also the time she said it was cheaper to order Rosie’s new kibble on a subscription straight from the company’s website.
She had already set it up to be delivered to her house.
On the day of the three week mark, she placed a new bed on the small, back patio for Rosie.
After that, I deleted the rental app.
Fuck it, I thought to myself. It can always be redownloaded.
I knew I was in the clear when I left five hundred bucks for bills on the counter and she didn’t argue with me. I’ve been sending that amount every week straight to her account ever since. I already paid for as much as she’d allow but she was strict about the bills while I was a guest.
Even as a homeowner, California is expensive. If I’m still there in the new year, I’ll ask how much her mortgage, and everything else, really is. Baby steps.
I’m doing my best to swindle my way into Calypso’s life forever, but if she decides otherwise, I want this memory of her. Of our time together. All of my tattoos have been tied to moments in my life, and every one with her has been a goddamn gift.
Plus, if it’s not Calypso who I end up with, I don’t think there will ever be another woman who would fit me as well as she does.
I’d brand my skin a hundred times over for her.
The cake was the obvious choice for her from the beginning, and the little minx thought she was being cheeky by putting it on her ass.
It’ll be a cute sight when I’m balls deep inside of her.
A throat clears behind us and Calypso pushes up off my chest to look at the stewardess, staying on my lap.
“Here are the chocolate-covered strawberries and bottle of whiskey you ordered,” she says, setting a tray down next to us. Along with the mentioned items are two glasses.
Calypso smiles and grabs a glass. “Thank you.”
After ensuring we don’t need anything else, the stewardess goes back inside.
We’re alone, and other than at night, there are very few private moments.
Even though we spent the previous two days on the ship, we’ve been either separated or in groups.
As much as Calypso loves her siblings, she goes to bed every night exhausted from being surrounded by them all day.
Usually, I don’t mind large groups, but I’m finding myself less fond of them by the minute.
I didn’t realize how greedy I’ve become when it comes to her until this trip.
Maybe Calypso feels the same.
When everyone was going to bed, she asked if I wanted to stay out on the deck with her and we’ve been out here for an hour.
She’s fighting off exhaustion but I’m not going to rush her inside.
She’ll tell me when she’s ready—or she’ll fall asleep on my chest and we’ll spend a night sleeping out here. Either sounds great to me.
Calypso pours only one glass and takes a sip. I watch her with a fascinated smile and run my hands up her thighs.
“Mm,” she hums in appreciation. The bottle that was brought to us is much more expensive than what she ordered. I’ll thank Paul tomorrow.
Scooting up a little, I grab one of the strawberries and hold it up to her lips. She takes a bite and catches a piece of chocolate on her thumb.
Calypso leans forward, sliding her pussy against my dick as she does, and slips her finger in my mouth. I lick the chocolate off, letting the sweetness melt on my tongue, when Calypso takes a larger swig of the whiskey and kisses me.
There’s no timid introduction to this kiss. With her hand at the base of my throat, she pushes me further into the pillows and bites my bottom lip, demanding entrance. The lingering taste of whiskey blends with the chocolate, but it’s the familiar sweetness of Calypso that is the most intoxicating.
With my hands on the back of her thighs, I roughly jerk her body up a few inches and she lets out a low whimper at the friction.
She stares down at me with a heady gaze, her strawberry-blonde hair creating a curtain around us. Her tongue skates along her bottom lip, considering if she wants to kiss me again.
Instead, she whispers, “Let’s play a game.”
Amused, I tilt my head, waiting for her to continue. We’ve played those silly college games with her siblings a few times. Lexi and Vivi love them. Usually, something new or funny comes from it regardless of how many variations we play.
Calypso has never been the one to suggest it though.
“Which one?” I ask at her silence.
She takes another sip, thinking it over. “Two truths and a lie.”
I shrug and reach for the glass. “Sure.”
After I take my drink, she grabs it and refills it. “If you guess wrong, you have to drink.”
“You first.”
Thinking it over, she mindlessly unbuttons my shirt. Only the first couple but she doesn’t notice herself doing it. Her hand slips through the fabric, resting on my bare chest.
“I don’t know how to ride a bike; I was fifteen when I lost my virginity; and I think Anywhere but Here is one of the best albums ever.”
Squinting at her, I think it over. She has a lot of Mayday Parade memorabilia, so that seems more than reasonable. I lost my virginity at fifteen, so that doesn’t stick out to me either.
What kid doesn’t know how to ride a bike?
“The first one is the lie,” I say.
She hands me the glass and shakes her head. “I never cared to learn, and I’ve never needed the skill once in my life.”
I take a drink and tip the glass at her. “Fair enough. What was it then? Your virginity?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was fifteen.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t need the details. Knowing it wasn’t Stefan is enough. “Anywhere but Here is a great album, but A Lesson In Romantics is one of the closest things we have to perfection.”
“The only correct answer,” I joke and lift the whiskey glass back to my lips.
Her fingers brush against my skin while I think, and her other hand sits suspiciously close to my zipper.
I’m hard as fuck. I have been since she first climbed onto my lap, and I don’t try to hide it. I’m also not going to fuck her on the sundeck.
Unless she wants to be.
Clearing my throat, I say, “My first girlfriend broke up with me because a psychic at the mall told her to; in middle school, Paul had to tell me to stop coming in my socks; and I was arrested three times in high school.”
Her mouth drops with each word. “Oh my God,” she says and snickers. “I don’t know because there’s no way I heard any of that right.”
Smirking, I shrug. “You have to choose one.”
Taking the glass from me as if she anticipated the drink, she taps her nails on the side.
“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?”