Page 42 of Deep In Love
The ornate room is empty besides the two of us, the rest of the crew working hard to prepare for another dive before the ship arrives at our next destination. It’s much-needed time to catch up on the tasks I’ve neglected since we embarked nearly a week ago.
The faded Charles Darwin sticker judges me from the front of her laptop. Surrounded by decals of deep-sea creatures and science puns, Darwin watches the effect Charlie has on me.
I’ve always found her little obsession adorable. When I pointed out the fallacy in her dream to meet him, Charlie scribbled an asterisk beside the point to clarify that visiting his grave would also suffice.
She treats her bobblehead of him like a shrine, and in times of confusion or frustration, I’ve heard her whisper “What would Darwin do?” beneath her breath.
“When do I get my chocolate?” Charlie asks, eyeing the baghanging off my chair.
“When you earn it, bruja.”
Bowing her head, she focuses on the table before saying, “I don’t like it when you call me that.” Her voice is nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not some crazy witch because I believe in astrology and crystals. I only cursed youone time.”
“You what?” I ask, a disbelieving laugh leaving my lips.
She’s cursed me?
Why is that incredibly arousing?
“It didn’t work,” she mutters with a deep scowl. “You still have perfect hair.”
“Perfect hair, huh?”
“It’s not stupid to believe in that stuff…”
She twirls a bracelet, one of many on her wrists, the deep blue a contrast to her light skin. The vulnerability she expresses stings like a shallow cut. She plays it off with eye rolls, but it’s right there, so overwhelming that I have to fight the urge to rub away the discomfort in my chest.
I never knew the nickname bothered her this deeply.
“I don’t think that, Charlie,” I insist. I don’t call her brujabecause she likes crystals or finds comfort in the cryptic words of a constellation. Reaching out, I pluck a bracelet from her wrist, sliding the pink stones onto my own. “Now we both believe.”
Her jaw slackens, her focus fixed on my wrist.
“What crystal is this, anyway?” The stones are warm, heated from her skin. The knowledge causes a buzz along my spine.
“Uh…rose quartz.”
“What does it mean?” I ask, and she hacks for air, her face flushing a deep strawberry hue.
What did I say?
She wheezes, then gulps down the remainder of her iced coffee and says, “Love, compassion, and emotional healing.”
Oh.Oh.
Of all the bracelets on her wrist, I chose the one symbolizing love. The universe wasn’t aiming for subtlety. Having lost the use of any rational part of my brain, and void of any response to her love crystal, I dig a piece of chocolate out of my bag.
An offering to both her and whatever love god is willing to listen.
Let the bracelet be a sign.
She gets the same goofy look every time she spots the blue foil, like it’s the greatest thing she’s ever tasted. Her shoulders wiggle and she tears apart the wrapper, a woman on a mission, before devouring the chocolate in two impressive bites.
“How many more do you have?” she asks longingly.
“Enough for the trip if we ration.”
“Ration?” She sounds like I told her to cut off a toe, not limit her sugar consumption. “What kind of restrictions are we talking about? One a day? I won’t survive that. We’re not at war, so why do we need to cut back?” She hums, her fingers flying across her keyboard while she talks to herself. “If we have eighteen days left…Amy gave me two bags.” She glances up. “How many pieces do you have?”
