The pounding bass of the party boat, messing with my echolocation.
The pain of the fiberglass hull as it struck me.
The panic as water flooded my lungs.
The salt on The Boy’s lips as he gave me mouth-to-mouth.
The broken-glass feeling in my sternum as he compressed my chest and I spat up half the Pacific (and half a bottle of tequila).
The fear when he whispered, “Are you real?”
I blinked up at him, fluke flapping involuntarily in thecool tide, his warm palm resting below my navel, where olive skin met slick gray tail. Held in place by the shock of his touch.
No. It was more than that.
Merfolk only ever kiss one person all our lives: the one who knows the song of our heart. The kiss binds us. It draws us to one another. When we’re apart, it hurts. When we’re together, it’s bliss.
It’s supposed to go both ways. It’s supposed to be an intentional step you take with the one you want to spend your life with.
But I could feel it in my heart.
I was bound to The Boy, but somehow, he wasn’t bound to me.
I had to get away.
“Wait!” The Boy called as I rolled away from him. The stony shore scraped my tail as I dragged myself back to the water. The cold soothed my ribs, but nothing could soothe the ache in my heart, the golden hook lodged deep inside.
“Wait!” he called again, and every instinct said to turn around, but I gritted my teeth and kept swimming.
It didn’t matter, though.
He pulled me from the sea and breathed life into me.
I was going to love him forever.
“Here you go,” Ryan says, handing The Boy his corn dogs.
My face is still on fire.
The Boy starts. “Thanks.” He hands over his debit card, but my fingers are numb and I drop it on the tacky floor.
He’s right there. I don’t know where he’s been since that night last year, but he’s been far away and now he’s back.
I’d gotten so used to the ache in my heart, I didn’t even notice when it went away.
I kneel and pick his card up.SAMIR BORHANI, it reads.
I hum a soft, nervous note as I run his card and hand it back.
When our fingers brush, I feel that electricity again.
The Boy’s lips part. Maybe he feels it too.
I have to say something.
“Thank you corn dogs!”
Next to me, Ryan snorts.
