Page 34 of Make Out With A Merman

It’s her.

She steps up beside me, arms crossed, silent for once.

We don’t speak.

Not yet.

“You good?” she asks, voice low and casual.

“Fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

She scoffs. “You’re about as fine as a soggy firework.”

I don’t look at her.

Because if I do, I might say something stupid.

Or worse,true.

Instead I say, “I’m keeping people safe.”

“Who says you’re not?”

“I can’t afford mistakes.”

She’s quiet a beat.

“You think I’m a mistake?”

Her voice doesn’t rise. Doesn’t snap. But it cuts.

I look at her.

And gods help me, she’s just standing there, not angry, not smiling. Just waiting.

I take a breath.

“No,” I say, honest and hoarse. “You’re a risk.”

She smiles, just a little. “So are you.”

And then she walks away, her steps light on the path, vanishing back toward camp like moonlight on moving water.

And I don’t breathe again until she’s gone.

Because every second I spend near her, my grip slips.

And I don’t know if I want to catch it again.

The silence stretchesafter she leaves.

Too long.

Thenrumble.

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