Page 13 of Coral Prince Conundrum
Daryl
The next few days are torture. I spend my waking hours at work brewing various coffee concoctions, listening to Justice talk about the hunky guy he likes, working the register, and mindlessly cleaning up. I keep hoping my own crush comes in, but alas, my mind doesn’t will him into existence. I don’t dare peer at the hotel or go to his aquatic aerobics class again. I want Seero to get his head out of the sand and apologize, or at least be willing to look past my dad’s admittedly harmful empire. But he doesn’t, so instead, I chat with my best friend about forest drama, anything to get my mind off of my own set of boy troubles.
But I miss Seero. The way he looked at me during lunch and in the locker room makes me suspect he’s queer in some way. My blood pumps faster at the absurd chance that a man so sexy and worldly would be even remotely attracted to me.
Well, hewasinto me. Now he thinks I’m a natural disaster destroying aquatic habitats.
After my morning shift, I walk down to the parking lot. I grumble when I spot the food truck I’m forced to drive. The thing is so obnoxious and takes up two spots. I might as well weara shirt that reads, “I hate the ocean.” No wonder Seero, a real Corali, wants nothing to do with me.
The lot is devoid of people, despite it being midday. Since it’s at a lower level, the shadow of the hotel encompasses the lot. It makes sense that Café Magnifique and Hotel Renversé share parking since they’re owned by the same couple. I wonder if I can ask Layla to put in a good word for me to Seero. He may be jumping to conclusions, but I still want him to know I’m nothing like my dad.
I make it to my truck and notice a small brown liquid on the ground. I gaze around; no one’s nearby, dripping ice cream or anything, so I follow the liquid. It trails from underneath my truck.Wait, what?
I crouch down—no way. Something or someone’s tampered with my ride? I know it’s old, but the way the pipes are pried apart doesn’t look natural. I’ll be the first to confess I hate my truck and all that it literally signifies, but I need it. Why would anyone destroy the undercarriage of my shitty food truck?
Channeling a cartoon dog, I get to work solving the mystery, since whoever did this left a literal trail in their wake. The specks of brown liquid, presumably oil, trail across the parking lot. My pulse pounds with fear of the unknown; what if the person who messed up my brake fluid wants to hurt me?
Still, I need to know the truth. My feet propel me forward as my instincts override any anxiety. When I reach the perfectly trimmed bushes shadowed by the supplier entrance to the hotel, I spot one shrub that doesn’t look right. The trail of brown fluid leads here, so I creep forward.
Got you!Before me lies a person covered in oil. They’re lying in the bushes, wearing dark shorts and a stained t-shirt. My fists clench as my fight-or-flight reflex steps in. Time to call the cops on this dude. I’m reaching for my phone when I recognize the man.
It’s Seero! The person who broke my truck is the hot dude I’ve been looking for. But…he’s not napping.
I study his face—his eyes are rolled back, and his skin looks particularly dry. His neck has fans of…green gills? That puzzles me, but I can tell from his gasping and twitching that he must be critically injured. He doesn’t appear to be bleeding, but oil covers his chest and arms.
Shit. Maybe the brake fluid is burning him on a systemic level. I recall my studies and how contact with oil can devastate even the hardiest of sea creatures. And Seero is Corali, so he’s kind of like a sea creature.
“Seero? Seero!” I try to get his attention, but he only gasps. Crap, what if he’s dying in front of me?
Not knowing what to do, I take him up under my arm. He manages to stand up—if he were deadweight, we wouldn’t get anywhere—and I walk him backward.
“It’s gonna be okay.” Panic creeps into my voice, and I look around. The supplier entrance to the hotel is a few yards away. Layla is the wisest person I know. Rumor has it that she takes in supernatural royalty, so maybe she knows how to help.
“We gotta get you into the hotel, just stay with me, Seero.”
He gasps, and his eyes are still rolled back, but he manages to step lightly as I drag him forward. Oil bleeds into my shirt, and Seero’s warm, firm body is pressed up against my side. I wince as we walk—this issonot how I pictured the first time holding him.
Minutes later, we’re finally near the lobby. “Layla!” I drag his body up toward the front desk, knowing she’s often found there. “Layla, I need help!”
“What’s going on? What—woah!”
She appears wearing a red blouse and jeans, and shock and fear dawns on her face.
“Is that Seero?”
“Yes,” I reply through a grunt. I readjust the dying guy on my side. Adrenaline can only help me so much, and I’m not exactly a buff dude.
“What happened?”
“I found him outside…” I huff. “He’s hurt. What can I do?”
She touches his chest. “This isn’t blood. Is this oil?”
“From my car. Brake fluid…” I readjust him on me and wince at the effort. “I think it’s burning his skin. He’s from a…a kingdom…”
“The Coral Kingdom. Of course, the oil did this...” She rubs her fingers together, and the pensive look on her face makes me believe she has a plan. “Follow me.” We rush down the hallway, and I thank all the gods that Layla is willing to help.
She comes upon one room and whips out a key card. When she unlocks the door, I don’t hesitate to follow her.
