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TWELVE
say yes to the dress
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"WELL THAT WASN'T creepy at all..." Tristan deapanned as we exited Astra's Psychic Readings, Fortunes, and Bullshit.
That obviously wasn't the name of her little place, but that was what I thought fit best.
"She has no idea what she's talking about. She just wanted our money-and guess what? You idiots gave it to her." Rosie rolled her eyes, her fingers moving to pat down her hair. Her high cheekbones reflected the light of the afternoon sun, and if she was at all affected by the humidity, she wasn't showing it.
I, on the other hand, was a few drops of water away from being ninety-nine percent sweat. It was quite uncomfortable and very gross, but I didn't miss the sight of moisture on the armpits of Tristan's grey shirt.
At least I wasn't alone.
We can't all be Rosie Peppler, perfect and invincible to the adverse effects of hot weather.
"Yeah, but you couldn't help but think maybe she was right?" Giselle spoke, wringing her hands.
She probably felt a little bad that she dragged us in there, and that none of us took the bait of Astra's fortune telling. She should feel guilty, that's a total of two hundred and fifty dollars we'll never get back.
"Please. She's not, you weirdo," Rosie retorted, but this was Rosie's way of being friendly. Her tone wasn't at all malicious, rather slightly teasing and full of Rosie-esque sass.
"Yeah, can we go? Just standing out here gives me the creeps." I eyed the place, the sound of wind chimes tingling even though the air was stagnant.
For someone who was all about 'good vibes' and 'feeling the energy in the room,' Astra gave me the creeps. Astra was going around the room, giving fortunes and prophecies when she suddenly stopped at Tristan and dropped all her cards.
It wasn't even an oops, my hand slipped, it was a full on drop like they burned her hands to the touch. It was fucking weird, if you asked me.
She profusely apologized, saying she just felt something so bad that it shocked her.
I couldn't lie and say it didn't scare me slightly.
But then again, this was a random boardwalk psychic. If she was at all reputable, she'd have one of those hotlines or something. Or a website with a huge blown up picture of her face.
"I don't even wanna move," Isaiah groaned, wiping his forehead sluggishly. "I could just lay here on the boardwalk and be okay."
I snorted, looking him up and down. "Yeah, and get all that Gucci dirty?" I laughed, fixing the expensive Swarovski pendant on my neck.
