Page 1 of Make Out With A Merman

CHAPTER 1

CALLIE

The thing about glitter is, it never really goes away. Like, ever. You think you’ve washed it off, and bam there it is again. In your eyebrow. In your ear. On your date. Probably on your obituary.

Also, paddleboards arenotbuilt for speed, especially when you’re hauling a duffel, a unicorn floatie, and what might be the last functioning boombox in the known universe. But I’m nothing if not committed to a dramatic entrance.

“C’mon, baby, one more push!” I huff, digging my paddle into the lake water like I’m a very disorganized Viking.

The camp docks finally come into view. Camp Lightring looks like something out of a fantasy Pinterest board: pine trees tall enough to gossip with the clouds, rustic wooden cabins dotting the shore, a floating platform shaped like a clamshell, and uh oh.

Oh no.

Uniformed figures lined up at attention on the beach. A whistle blows, sharp and judgmental. I slow my stroke and squint.

It’s a drill. Like an actual, timed, synchronized swimming drill, complete with rigid straight lines and identical red safety vests. I see someone pacing at the water’s edge with a clipboardlike a military general. Tall. Broad. Blue shimmer catching the light like

Oh, hell. That’shim.

The lifeguard. The merman.

I’ve heard whispers about him from the other new hires on the group chat.“Scary hot, emotionally constipated.”“Makes the lake sign-in sheet look like the ten commandments.”Someone even said he yelled at a butterfly for violating swimming protocols.

I’m not about to sneak past this guy unnoticed. Especially not when my paddleboard scrapes against the dock with a sound like a wet fart.

“Shit whoops!” My duffel tips. My unicorn floatie bounces once, twice, and then flops dramatically into the water.

The man with the clipboard stops pacing. Turns slowly. Looks directly at me.

Oh no, he’s even hotter than the rumors said.

And even more pissed.

“YOU’RE LATE,” he booms, voice like thunder dunked in espresso. “And you’re interrupting a water safety drill.”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” I chirp, hopping off the board and into shin-deep water. Glitter sprays from my swim shorts like a sparkle bomb. I hoist the unicorn floatie up like it’s a trophy. “I brought reinforcements.”

A beat of stunned silence from the trainees. Then someone giggles. Another kid applauds. I wink at them.

Clipboard Guy is not amused. He strides toward me, and wow, up close, he’s…intense.Silver eyes, slicked back dark hair, water beading on his blue-scaled shoulders like he just rose out of some fantasy novel. The guy looks like Poseidon’s grumpy nephew.

“You’re Callie O’Shea.”

Guilty. “Yup. Swim instructor extraordinaire. Reporting for semi-duty.”

“You were supposed to be here atseven a.m.for orientation. It’s currently” he checks his watch,of coursehe wears a watch in the lake, “eight twenty-three.”

I squint at him through wet lashes. “Isn’t being fashionably late part of the camp charm?”

“It’s not charming. It’s irresponsible. These kids rely on structure and timing. You can’t just float in here like it’s a vacation.”

“Ouch,” I say, pressing a hand to my chest. “That floatie and I have feelings, you know.”

He doesn’t smile. Not even a twitch.

“You’re disrupting training.”

“Right,” I say, hopping up onto the dock and dragging my gear after me. “Sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my glitter explosion for later.”

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