Nothing wil keep me from making the appointment.
Quince pul s out of the driveway and into our street.
“Don’t go getting any romantic ideas about Benson while you’re down there,” he says with a smile. “I want you coming back to me.”
“Wel …” I pretend to consider. “He does know how to swim.”
Unlike Quince. That was the first of many problems with our bonding. Imagine me, a mermaid, bonded for life with a boy who couldn’t even swim. The idea was ridiculous. Now I can’t imagine being with anyone else.
“I’m learning,” he says.
“You’re trying, anyway,” I tease.
We’ve had a couple of lessons, but they have been tough.
Whenever we get into the water, I feel a little sad. Even if he becomes an Olympic-class swimmer, like Brody, we both know he wil probably never be able to go home with me again. The magical separation Daddy performed—at my request—made sure of that. He’s immune to the mermaid bond.
I’m not sure if he senses my sadness. I think he feels that, by learning how to swim, he’s getting closer to me. But I can’t help worrying that he’l never be quite close enough.
I’m total y fine with my future on land, but stil … it would be nice to be able to bring him home for a weekend or two. I can’t help but hold out a teeny-tiny bit of hope that someday we’l find a way.
I shake off the melancholy thought. No use crying over something that can’t be undone. We’re together, and that’s al that matters.
“You’re right,” he says with a laugh. “Couldn’t pick a better human to race home with if you tried.”
Tugging one of his hands off the steering wheel, I lace our fingers together and squeeze. I know his laugh was forced.
As much as he almost always seems to sense what’s going on in my head, I’m pretty good at guessing his thoughts, too. Sometimes I think—or hope—that maybe our bond never got ful y severed, that we’re stil magical y connected, but I know that’s not true. We’re just real y tuned in to each other. Just how I like it.
The entire time we’ve been talking, I’ve been trying to ignore the sounds coming from the backseat. Even if Doe only bonded with Brody to get a window of opportunity with Quince, the selfish sea urchin sure doesn’t seem to mind kissing him. Again and again and again.
“When I get back,” I say over the smooching sounds, “after my interview in the morning, we can take our ride down the coast.”
“I’l have Princess al shined up and ready to go,” Quince says as he steers the car into the beachfront parking lot.
We al pile out onto the blacktop and head for the surf line.
While the sand squishes beneath my feet, I focus in on my transfiguration, mental y forming a finkini beneath my shorts. Quince walks with me to the water line, not caring if his biker boots get doused with salt water.
Up the beach a few yards, Doe and Brody are getting in one last makeout session.
As soon as we slip beneath the waves, she’l turn her attention to Quince. I just know it.
“Watch out for Doe,” I tel him as I unbutton and peel off my shorts, revealing my finkini of lime green and gold scales.
“I’l take care of her,” he says, holding out his hand. “Like she was my own sister.”
“No.” I give him my shorts and then tug off my flip-flops and set them on top of the shorts. “I mean watch out for her.
She’s devious and has her sights set on you. She set this whole thing up just so she could have time alone with you.” Quince glances at the lip-locked couple. “You’re reaching, princess.”
“I mean it.”
His Caribbean blue eyes look directly into mine. “You have nothing to worry about here.”
“I know.” I wrap my arms around his neck and tug myself close. “But stil …”
“Okay.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I promise.” Another on my nose. “I’l watch out for a surprise attack.” And then Doe is completely forgotten as his mouth closes over mine. His lips have a way of doing that, of making me forget everything else.
“Are you ready to go?” Doe’s sharp voice penetrates my kiss-induced fog. “It’s only a few hours until sunset.” Wel , wasn’t that just as transparent as jel yfish in rain?
She’s eager to get me gone.
I pul back. Reluctantly.
“Yeah,” I say. “We should go.”
“Go,” Quince says, pressing one last kiss to my lips. “I’l be waiting for your cal . At your house or mine.” He nods to the pay phone at the edge of the parking lot, which I’m going to use to cal him for a ride when Brody and I get back. The coins I need to make the cal are tucked into the bra top of my swim tank.
Pul ing out of Quince’s arms, I turn to Brody. “Come on.” Brody and I head into the surf, leaving Quince and Doe standing on the beach. When we reach the depth where we can go under, I turn back to wave good-bye. And notice that Doe has inched awful y close to Quince’s side.
I scowl as I sink beneath the surface, pul ing Brody down with me.
I transfigure instantly, shedding my terraped legs for my tail fin. It’s somewhat cathartic. The familiar salt water and the magic of my change ease some of the tension Doe’s caused. She and her finful of trouble wil be waiting when I get back. For now, my focus needs to be on Brody.