Page 204 of Falling Offsides

God, I do.

There is nothing I don’t love about him. And being here with him feels like I’ve won the lottery and simultaneously hit the jackpot.

The Quarter hums around us. Brass horns in the distance echoing off ancient buildings, the sticky-sweet scent of beignets hanging in the air like an invitation, and streetlamps that flicker like they're keeping secrets only the city knows.

New Orleans is unlike any other place I’ve been to. It’s alive with history, with stories, with ghosts that refuse to leave. I can’t get enough of it.

The wet stone beneath our shoes makes soft splashing sounds with each step while the balconies overhead drip with ivy and mystery. Wrought iron twisting into patterns that seem to shift when you look away.

We turn a corner, and a chalkboard sign leans outside a crooked old storefront, the lettering done in swooping white chalk that glows against the black background.

Paranormal Tour

Haunted Lovers, Lost Souls, & Forever Flames.

Last Call.

I point at it, my finger tracing the words in the air. "Too on-the-nose?"

Auguste tilts his head, considering. The streetlight catches his profile—that jaw that could cut glass, the slight curl of his hair at his temple where sweat has made it damp.

"Sounds like us."

"You think we're haunted?" he asks, brow cocking.

My stare finds his and when he thumbs my cheek my heart squeals.

"I think we're forever," I reply, watching his thick lips tick up into a grin.

“There’s no fucking think about it, Court. Weareforever.”

Auguste pulls me into him for a kiss before we step inside. It feels like we’ve entered a different world and simultaneously gone back in time.

The tour is weird and wonderful. Auguste loves the scary parts and I swoon at all the forbidden love stories paving the city.

Auguste's hand never leaves mine. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and each sweep sends electricity racing up my arm.

By the time we end up in a candlelit back room lined with dusty mirrors and velvet drapes the color of dried blood, my skin's buzzing. The air feels charged, heavy with incense and anticipation. The mirrors reflect our faces a dozen times over, and in each reflection, Auguste is looking at me.

Only me.

The fortuneteller is already seated at a small round table. She doesn't look up when we enter. Just gestures wordlessly for us to sit, her long fingers adorned with rings that catch the candlelight.

Her eyes are pale. Clouded over. I wonder if she's blind at first, butthen she lifts her gaze to mine, and I swear she sees everything. Every secret I've ever kept. Every fear I've buried. Every time I've lain awake thinking about the man beside me.

There are no names. No questions. Just her hands on the table, her fingers ghosting over a deck of worn, gold-edged cards. She doesn't shuffle them. Doesn't ask us to cut the deck. She simply places her palm flat over them and closes her eyes.

"You've chosen each other," she murmurs, her voice like smoke. "There is no alternate path. Only this one."

Auguste shifts in his seat beside me. I can feel the tension radiating off him, the way his breath has gone shallow. I grab his thigh under the table and squeeze, feeling the hard muscle beneath my fingers. His hand drops over mine, warm and solid.

"You'll be showered in love and in success," she says. "Two souls bound together… air—” One of her hands shifts in front of me while the other moves in front of Auguste. “—and water. Like the tide kissing the shore… beautiful, ever-changing, and never quite still.”

“What does that mean?” I blurt the question when her stare meets mine.

“Your love won’t come easy… but it will come deep. Magnetic,” she says when Auguste rests our tangled hands on the table.

After a moment, her hands bracket ours. Like she can feel who we are without even touching us.