Page 85 of Make Out With A Merman

I blink. “What?”

“Celebration. For defeating ancient evil and saving Camp Lightring. You know,Tuesday stuff.”

I glance down at my syrup-stained shirt. “This is what I get for sleeping past seven.”

Hazel beams. “They’re making s’mores. And there’s gonna be a banner. With glitter.”

Of course there is.

By the time I make it to the central lawn, there’s streamers, a suspicious number of glow sticks, and Jason is attempting to climb onto a picnic table with a bullhorn.

Ryder’s not here yet.

Probably hiding.

Probably brooding behind a tree like a moody statue carved out of responsibility and unresolved feelings.

Julie finds me first, wearing her “I survived a magical emergency and all I got was this glitter shirt” smile.

“You seen your boy?” she asks.

“Not since last night.”

“He better show. The kids are hyped.”

As if on cue, a counselor lets out a dramatic gasp and points toward the woods.

Andthere he is.

Ryder.

In an actual button-down shirt.

Still damp at the collar. Still walking like the world might fall apart under his boots.

And still the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.

The moment the kids spot him, everything erupts.

A standing ovation, cheers, hoots, literal jumping.

Jason fires off a confetti cannon that wasabsolutelynot cleared by safety.

Ryder freezes, eyes wide like someone just cast a spotlight on a deer.

I stride up beside him and grab his hand.

“Smile, lake boy,” I whisper. “You earned it.”

He glances down at me. “This ishumiliating.”

“No,” I say, tugging him forward. “This islove.”

He lets me pull him onto the makeshift stage, and the campers swarm, chanting his name like he’s a celebrity lifeguard.

He blushes.

Likeblushesblushes.

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