Page 2 of Make Out With A Merman

“Leave your floatation devices out of drills unless approved by the head counselor.”

“Can I wear my flamingo hat, or is that also a federal offense?”

Another ripple of laughter from the kids onshore. Ryder, I assume that’s his name, because if he’s not Ryder then someone’sworse, grits his teeth so hard I think I hear enamel crack.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, stepping forward, eyes narrowing. “I don’t care how many jokes you crack or how many inflatable sea animals you own. You will follow my rules, or you will not last here.”

“And you’re just a walking party piñata, huh?” I ask sweetly. “Bet youkillat karaoke.”

“I don’t sing.”

“Obviously.”

There’s a weird moment where our gazes lock. Not in a swoony, rom-com way more like I’ve accidentally challenged a sea god to a duel. His jaw flexes. My breath catches, which issoinconvenient.

But instead of yelling again, he just snorts. “Dry off. Report to Julie. And stay out of my training zone.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be insomany zones,” I murmur, dragging my dripping duffel toward the main path. “You don’t even know.”

As I stomp up the hill, soggy and victorious, I hear him call out one last thing behind me:

“Next time you arrive on a stolen paddleboard, leave the glitter behind.”

“Next time bring some snacks and a sense of humor!” I yell back.

The kidscheer.

Julie finds me ten minutes later outside the mess hall, trying to wring the lake out of my socks and debating if my unicorn floatie can double as a bean bag chair. She’s petite, perky, and very mom-vibes-in-sneakers.

“You made quite the splash,” she says, sitting beside me.

“Please tell me the merman isn’t going to try and ban me from water entirely. Because I kinda need it to live.”

Julie laughs. “Ryder’s a little…intense. But he’s a good guy. Rescues three kids a summer, hasn’t missed a single training drill in three years, and makes the best campfire chili you’ve ever had.”

“Wow. The man contains multitudes.”

She side-eyes my dripping glitter trail. “You’re gonna test every one of ‘em, huh?”

“Look, I like structure in theory. But chaos has way better floaties.”

Julie grins. “Just don’t drown him in sparkles.”

“No promises,” I say, grinning back.

Later, after I’ve been handed a dry shirt and a camp schedule, I wander back down to the lake. The water is calm now, sparkling in the late morning sun. Ryder is still down there, clipboard back in hand, his expression unreadable.

I watch him for a moment, the way he moves sharp, focused, like every muscle is on alert.

I know his type.

The rule guy. The don’t-touch-my-soul guy.

I also know how to unspool them. Not on purpose. Not to be mean. Just by being me.

And he already looks rattled.

Oh, this is going to befun.

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