I wasn't sure whether or not Cal had simply pointed that fact out to impress me, but whatever his motive and true beliefs were, it still worked. Most of the people in my life seemed to feel as though they were entitled to their own little slice of the Sookie pie, and the men in particular always seemed to lean more toward letting me know that they'd never give me up or forsake me for anything. Sure, I guess it's romantic. But it's kind of demeaning, too, like I'm just some kind of possession. Their Sookie to hand off at will. Sometimes, it was especially bad with Bill — he so often called me 'his,' and no matter how much he tried to reassure me of the fact that it was just vampire protocol, sometimes he really acted as though he believed it.

With Cal, though, that shot his standing in my mind forward leaps and bounds, from where I was already considering him a fast friend. My cheeks hurt with the effort of the smile his words brought out.

"You're right. I'm my own person. Doesn't always stop people from tossin' me around anyway," I replied, letting my head momentarily rest on his shoulder. It was really nice to see him smile, it was really nice to let myself smile, and though I had the sneaking suspicion that neither of those states would last forever, it was good to just bask in it for a while.

Pulling slightly away, I finally had the sense of mind to wrap my large towel tightly around myself — I felt slightly colder out of the water. Squeezing some of the water out of my hair, I tried my best to smoothly ease the conversation in my own direction for a moment. Pledge of good faith.

"Y'know, I wasn't exactly normal before coming to Tabula Rasa. Back home, I was telepathic."