Like she’s about to take the world by storm.
She is.
This is—
Fuck, why am I so far away?
I dive into the pool. The cool water is a sharp contrast to the hot air. It’s not New York humid here, but it’s not as dry as Southern California either.
Mexico is supposed to be a desert, as arid as Los Angeles, but fuck if I know shit about climate.
I meet Daisy at the other end of the pool. Wrap my arms around her. Pull her into a tight embrace.
She groans as my lips skim her neck. “Holden…”
“Is that a Holden, stop or a Holden, keep going?”
“Hmm…” She reaches back for me. Gets my hips. “Can it be both?”
“No.”
“Damn.” She shifts, turning around in my arms. “I, uh… do you think we’re good?”
“Good?”
“With Oliver and Luna? She’ll warn me if they’re heading back, but, uh—”
“Our phones are downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll hear them come in.”
“You’re fast enough to get to the shower.”
I nod hell yeah.
She arches a brow. “And I explain my skinny dipping by…”
“What’s to explain?”
She stifles a laugh. “It’s not what people—”
“You love the water. Why let clothes get in your way?”
“Doesn’t sound like me.”
“You’re a new person.”
“Am I?”
“Are you?” Under the water I squeeze her hand.
She looks up at me. “I’ve wanted that, so many times. When I started a new school last year. When I got off the plane. After we ahem. And when I start school…”
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah. Berkley is amazing. With all my extra credits, I got to enroll earlier than most freshmen.”
“What are you taking?”
“Two requirements. A science class”—she sticks her tongue out ugh—”and an English one. I can already take these amazing English classes. One on the history of criticism. Another on Shakespeare.”
“Are you majoring in English?”
“I don’t know. I want to, but…”
“But?”
She presses her lips together. “People always tell me it’s impractical. A waste of time. A surefire way to unemployment forever.”
“People are assholes.”
“But they might be right.” She turns, takes in the view of the town, the bright blue sky, the sparkling ocean. “I love reading. I love writing. I love tearing things apart. But… things are already hard for me. If I can’t find a job or a job that pays enough… that’s not going to make them easier.”
“Shit’s hard to everyone.”
“Yeah.” Her fingers curl into the railing. “But, uh… I guess I appreciate stability.”
“It’s a big world. There’s a lot of stuff out there.”
She nods true. “That’s why you’re supposed to wait to declare your major at the end of sophomore year. You’re supposed to take different classes, expose yourself to new things.”
“It’s a good idea.”
“Probably.”
“But?” I place my body next to hers. Fuck, this really is a beautiful view. And there’s something about taking it in with her. Something I can’t explain.
“No, it is.”
“You should take an art class.”
“Art History?”
I shake my head. “A studio class. Painting. Drawing. Fucking ceramics.”
“Clay?”
“Why not?”
Her laugh is easy. “Because… I guess that’s not a good reason.”
“It’s not.”
“I’ll consider that.” Her eyes meet mine. “I was thinking more along the lines of psychology—”
“Isn’t that a science class?”
She nods yeah. “Or maybe business. Marketing. Stuff that’s more employable.”
“I’m not gonna tell you that shit isn’t helpful.”
“You get by pretty well without it.”
“Even with my gig, there’s a lot of that shit. I have to attract new clients. Retain the old ones. Keep track of my schedule, make sure my rates are in line with my skill—”
“Are you saying you aren’t the best of the best?”
“Not quite.”
She shoots me an easy smile. “It’s hard to believe you’re admitting that.”
“I know.”
“But then I…” Her fingers go to the Latin quote on my chest. “I love all of these.”
“That’s your expert opinion?”
She traces the words with her index finger. “It’s possible, I’m distracted by your body.”
“Plus, I didn’t do these.”
“That would be tough.” She traces the lines again. “It always seemed so you. Danger is sweet. But I’m not as sure.”
“You still think I’m scared?”
“Well… we all are. But then I… I always wanted one.”
“A tattoo?”
She nods. “As soon as Oliver got his first one. But it’s scary, the permanence. How do you know you’ll want something on your body forever?”
“You don’t.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re not sure you’ll love this in thirty years?” Her fingers brush the Latin phrase. “What if you hate it?”
“What if?”
She bites her lip. “No offense, Holden, but you don’t really strike me as the commitment type.”
“Me?”
She nods yeah.
“Maybe that’s the appeal. Taking the way you feel in one moment and making it forever.”
“Even though you might feel differently later?”
“Because you might feel differently later. Because you want to remember the person you were. The things that mattered to you.”
“Has that happened yet?”
“Have I grown out of anything?” I ask.
She nods yeah.
“I don’t know. I don’t really think about it like that. Sure, some of my early work isn’t great. But if I didn’t get that, I wouldn’t have the stuff that is great. I needed to build off something.”