I smirked. “The list? How many names do you think we’re coming up with?”
“As many as it takes to get it right,” she said primly, already grabbing a napkin and scribblingArielacross the corner.
“Fine.” I leaned back again and thought for a second. “How about Mystique?”
Livvi narrowed her eyes. “Are you just naming any blue fictional characters you can think of?”
“No,” I said. “Otherwise I’d have already said Smurfette.”
That got her laughing so hard she had to set her chopsticks down. “Oh, no. Now I can’t stop picturing her with a little white hat.”
I looked over at the fish darting in and out of the fake coral. “She’d rock the hat.”
“She would,” Livvi admitted reluctantly.
We sat there in silence for a second, both of us watching the fish like naming her was suddenly the most important task in the world.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “Let’s leave it for tonight. Sleep on it.”
I nodded. “Fine. But just so you know, if I wake up at three a.m. with the perfect name, I’m texting you.”
“Deal.” She smiled as she picked her chopsticks back up. “But only if I can do the same.”
“Fair’s fair.”
Dinner was long gone, the takeout containers stacked neatly on the counter, and somehow, we’d migrated to the couch. The tank’s soft glow cast dancing shadows on the wall, the only light in the room.
Livvi sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch, leaning back into the cushions, her hair loose and slightly messy from where she’d tucked it behind her ear one too many times. She looked comfortable here, like she belonged.
“So.” She fiddled with the edge of one of the couch pillows. “I know trying to name the fish is a fun distraction, but how are you doing?”
I shrugged, pretending to think about it. “I’m fine.”
She gave me a pointed look. “That’s not the kind of answer you give someone you share a fish with.”
I chuckled. “That’s a lot of pressure for a shared-custody fish.”
“It is,” she said seriously, though her mouth curved at the edges. “So, answer the question. How are youreallydoing?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know. Good, I guess. The Pro Swim Classic is next weekend. I’m flying out in a couple days to start training in Austin for it. This is a big swim meet for me, make it or break it.”
She tilted her head, her expression softening. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It is,” I admitted. “And it’s not just the meet itself. My dad … Just today he left me another voicemail about how I should be done swimming. Saying I’m too old to be chasing some kid dream, that I need to start my career and take life seriously.” I let out a breath of air. “Some days it feels like I’m swimming against him more than the water.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is he like that with Ridge too?”
I let out a short humorless laugh. “With Ridge? Not so much. Ridge is a senior in college, twenty-three years old, still a few classes from graduating. Dad hasn’t really been pushing him the same way. Not yet. But if Ridge decides to keep swimming seriously, I know Dad will be the same with him eventually. High expectations, zero patience for failure.”
Livvi reached out, lightly touching my arm. “That sounds … exhausting. I can’t imagine having that kind of pressure constantly on your shoulders.”
“It is,” I admitted quietly. “But it also fuels me. I like beating the odds.”
She gave me a small smile, removing her hand from my arm. “Then I’m sure you’ll do great in Austin.”
It was such a simple sentence, but it held a lot of substance coming from her. Like having her believe in me was something I hadn’t even known I’d needed.
“And what about you?” I asked. “How is working full time and double majoring going? I can’t even imagine how you are surviving.”
