Page 4 of Make Out With A Merman

Or maybe the lake’s waking up again.

I shake it off. I’ll check the deep rift tonight.

Right now, I’ve got a clipboard to update.

Julie finds me mid-column on my incident report sheet. “You know you scared the hell outta her, right?”

I don’t look up. “Good.”

She chuckles. “Ryder.”

“She blew orientation. Interrupted drills. Used a unicorn floatie as a goddamn chariot.”

“She also pulled three shy kids into the session who’ve never gotten in the deep end before,” Julie says, voice gentler now. “Some of them are scared of the lake. She made them laugh.”

I scowl. “Laughter doesn’t save them when they’re drowning.”

Julie steps closer. “Neither does a clipboard if they won’t follow you into the water.”

I stiffen.

She sighs and pats my arm. “Just… don’t chew her up too hard, alright? She’s got heart. You might actually like her.”

Not likely.

But I grunt anyway, because arguing with Julie is like arguing with the moon.

Later, I spot Chaos Mermaid outside the mess hall, her unicorn floatie half-deflated and lounging like it’s seen war. She’s wringing out her shirt and humming off-key. Still smiling. Still... bright.

She doesn’t see me watching.

Good.

The last thing I need is for her to think she’s gotten to me.

But later that night, as I write my evening report and hear her laughter drifting from the campfire pit across the hill, I press too hard with my pen.

And tear straight through the page.

The torn paper stares back at me like a challenge.

I exhale hard through my nose and flip it over. Try again.

But the ink sticks. My hand hesitates. It’s not the page that’s the problem.

It’s her.

For three summers, things have run like clockwork. I built this camp’s aquatic program from the bottom of the damn lake up. Same drills, same shifts, same faces. Predictable. Manageable. Safe.

I don’tdosurprises.

And Callie O’Shea is a surprise wrapped in glitter, chaos, and ten pounds of reckless charm.

One day here, and she’s already poked holes in my entire system. Not just with the paddleboard stunt or the floatie debacle but the way shelookedat me. Like rules are optional. Like I’m the weird one for caring that they exist.

I hate that it’s working.

The kids laughed today. Broke formation. Lost focus. A single weak link in this chain can get someone hurt, and I’ve already lived through that mistake once.

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