Page 16 of Make Out With A Merman

It’s because something’s pulling.

The moon’s full tonight, heavy and yellow like a coin tossed across the sky. Camp Lightring’s quiet, the way it only gets this late when the last marshmallow’s been roasted and even the raccoons have tapped out.

I follow the path toward the lake, barefoot, the dirt cool beneath my feet.

And there he is.

Ryder.

Knee-deep in moonlight and water, back turned, hair slicked like he just surfaced from a dive. His arms are crossed, his shoulders wide and still. Even from behind, he looks... heavy. Like the lake’s holding up more than just his body.

I think about going back.

But I don’t.

Instead, I step softly onto the dock and sit, letting my legs dangle over the edge. He doesn’t move, but I know he knows I’m here.

“Told Julie you’d be the moonlit brooding type,” I say, voice light. “You’re making me look real psychic right now.”

He doesn’t answer at first.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah. Me neither.” I swirl my toes in the water. “Too quiet in the cabin. Also, my bunk mattress is trying to assassinate me.”

Still nothing.

So I try something softer.

“You come here a lot at night?”

He nods. Just once.

“It’s different then,” he says, voice low. “The water. It listens more.”

I glance at him. “You talk to the lake?”

“Sometimes it talks back.”

I go still.

Because he’s not teasing. He means it.

And for the first time since I met him, Ryder’s not wielding silence like a weapon. He’s using it like a story.

I shift, just a little closer.

“You said once you had a tribe,” I murmur. “Back before... all this.”

He nods again. Slower this time. “Yeah.”

“What were they like?”

He’s quiet so long I think he’s not going to answer.

Then he says, “Loud. Fierce. Wild.”

I blink. “Sounds like my kind of people.”

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