Page 94 of Sour Notes

It’s probably for the best since I can’t be trusted not to climb him like a tree when he opens his mouth.

The van stops before my mental spiral does, pulling up outside another white-washed stone building overlooking the ocean.

We jump out, and I can finally breathe again. It’s the first time in hours I’ve not wanted to scream, sob, or straddle someone.

That's a freakin’ win, and I’m all about celebrating small victories.

Now, I just need to hope I can sit farther away from Swayze in class so I can break his dangerous sex-driven voodoo curse.

At least I can’t dry hump him here.

Dropping his hand, I walk toward the cliff edge, circling on the spot to take in the view. I love the whole aesthetic here. Despite being Greek Cypriot, I’ve never traveled to Greece and rarely get to go to Cyprus either, but being here makes my heart happy.

I suck in another deep breath, loving the scent of the ocean. My shoulders drop as my locked muscles ease from the tension I’ve been carrying all day.

Not even the sight of the toad jumping out of the van can fuck with me.

Today’s a new day.

I’m a strong, independent woman dammit. If that fucker even opens his mouth to say one word, I’m going to⁠—

Melt in a puddle of goo.

Nope. Not that.

You’re just witnessing my brain melt in real time because my boyfriend just came up and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back into his body.

Goddammit.

Before I can say a single word, a nice old man exits the building in front of us. With wrinkled olive skin, a thick white mustache, and wisps of white hair, he looks like a shorter Greek Einstein, wearing a vest.

“Yeia sas, kalimera, ti kanete?” He beams at us. Naturally, my mom immediately walks up to clasp his hand and chatter away to him in Greek.

“What’d he say?” Swayze murmurs, hot breath tickling my ear and sending shivers down my spine.

I tilt my head back to glance up at him.

Ooof. Solid mistake. Butterflies squirm to life in my tummy, dancing wildly.

His eyes reflect the sun and blue sea back, making them dangerously more potent combined with their striking coloring.

How did I live with this man, fuck him not once but twice, and not feel like this.

What the hell’s happening to me?

He leans forward, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose, and I just⁠—

“Bame!” The old man turns, ushering us all into the building in front of us.

“Shit. He just said hi, how are we basically,” I blurt out, trying to step out from under his arms and walk inside like that strong, independent woman I was just thinking about.

Only he has other ideas, holding me tighter and ushering me in effortlessly like I’m his fanny pack or something.

There goes my personal space.

We’re met by a bubbly older woman who beams over at us, clapping her hands as we all gather inside.

The room is dominated by a circle of seven potter's wheels, each with a short bench sitting behind it. In the corner of the room, a table set up with various bottles of wine and cheese stretches along the wall. We must be splitting the group in half and taking it in turns to sip and sculpt.