Page 21 of Starrily
“You can’t even see where to untangle it. Let me—there.” He pulled the scarf off her, and just as he was about to hand it to her, he lost hold of it as another gust of wind swept through.
Simon had fast reflexes—in many of his hobbies, he needed them. In a split second, he reached to catch the scarf, but it slipped through his fingers.
Literally,through. He watched them move straight through—and the scarf flew off, rising up and away from them, a ribbon of swirling fabric in the wind.
“My scarf!” Even leaning over the fence, Calliope was much too late to grab it.
Simon stared at his hand and flexed his fingers. Surely not. Surely …
Tentatively, he touched the fence. His fingers made contact.See, you were imagining it.
But how did he let the scarf slip? He had been holding it; he was sure of that.
“You!” Calliope turned to him, eyes lit up by fury. “I told you I had it!”
She wasn’t acting like she’d noticed anything strange. Was it all in his imagination, or did she not see it?
“I tried to help.”
“And you helped really well.” Her voice broke in the end as if she was close to crying. She gazed at the scarf, now a dot on the horizon, blown away somewhere over the ocean. “You lost my scarf.”
“Here.” He brought out his wallet. “How much do you need to buy a new one?”
“A new—oh.” She put her hands on her hips. “I can afford a scarf. I don’t need your money.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It was one of a kind. My friend gave it to me as a gift, and she painted it herself.”
Oh. That’s why it looked so … artsy.
“And now it’s lost forever. Money won’t buy another.”
“Could your friend—”
“Don’t even suggest I ask her to paint another.”
“Fine.” He folded his arms. “I won’t try to find any solutions.”
“Your solution could’ve been not to get involved.”
“Then next time, I’ll let the scarf strangle you while you wrestle with it.”
“I had it! This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t constantly need to meddle in things.”
“Oh, really? What did I meddle in?”
“My work, my … everything!” She threw her arms out in frustration.
“Says the woman who meddled in my conversation with another person.”
“At least that poor woman didn’t have to listen to your horrible pick-up lines anymore.”
“Horriblepick-up lines?”
She crossed her arms and said, in a mocking, deeper voice, “Calliope, a-muse-ing.”
Simon let out a short, sardonic laugh. “You thought that was a pick-up line? As if I’d waste them on you.”
