Page 76 of Prince Charmless
Fucking Christ, Melina can’t swim.
I jump in after her. The chlorine stings my eyes I stupidly kept open. I fist her shirt to pull her toward me and put my arm around her waist to keep her afloat. Except she keeps trying to push me away.
Oh.
I let her go after realizing she’s been yelling, “Stop it, I know how to swim!” this whole time. To my surprise, Melina isn’t sinking, flailing, or drowning. In fact, she’s right in front of me, smiling and treading water just fine. “God, Taylor, I wasn’t sure if you were going to fall for that.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Did you—did you just lie?” I sweep the sopping wet hair from my eyes. It feels very strange swimming fully clothed.
“Yes, I’ve been practicing! A few days ago, I ordered takeout, and I told the girl my name was Stacy. It kind of backfired because her name also happened to be Stacy, so I had to have like a thirty-second long conversation with her about how both of our names are Stacy.”
I look at her like she’s crazy, because she is. Her floating head looks like something out of a horror film as it maniacally cackles through tears of black makeup. She swindled me.
“You’re a swindler.”
“What is going on!” Cassie yells from the patio door.
“Taylor fell in the pool!” The slander rolls right off her tongue.
I don’t know if I should be proud or terrified.
“I’ll get some towels!” Cassie shouts back.
Melina swims toward the pool steps, and I follow her to dry land. I’ll pretend like I don’t see the red bra through her now pointless white t-shirt. I pull off mine because I hate the feeling of it clinging to me. She inspects, maybe ogles, actually, more eye-fucks me as she wrings out her hair.
I snap my fingers in front of her face. “Would you stop it? I run a lot.”
“To where?” she mutters. “China?”
I put a hand to my chest in feigned offense. “Exactly how long have you had the hots for me? This wasn’t like a childhood crush thing, right?” She told me I was attractive, she had to have predicted I wouldn’t let that go.
“The hots?” She leans back. “Trust me. I wasn’t reading any Prince Taylor fanfiction as a teenager.”
“Please tell me that does not exist.”
“How should I know? My childhood crush was Justin Timberlake, and when I was feeling old school, the dad from The Sound of Music.”
I blink. “Captain Von Trapp? Austrian father of seven?” I guess I remember him being a bit DILFy.
“You seem to know a lot about that movie.”
“My mom liked it.” She loved musicals. I never understood why. All the singing shit gets in the way of the plot.
“Everyone’s mom likes it. That movie is like crack for moms.”
I step closer.
She shuffles backward.
“Not that this would be a metaphor for anything,” she starts. “But I think I gotthe hotsfor Captain Von Trapp when he became all soft for Maria.”
“Oh, you think I’m getting soft for you?” I inch forward again like she’s a skittish animal. “Don’t expect me to know how to play guitar.”
She rests her hands on my bare chest. She can’t help but touch me. “You’ve always been soft for me. Soft like a kitten.”
I peer down at her blue fingernails and envision them scraping down my back, maybe leaving marks for the next morning. “So you can flirt with me, but I can’t with you. Seems unfair.”
Her easy smile drops, and her hands form into balls. “You’re right,” she says and walks past me.
