Anne Brown: Deep Betrayal

“Chicken!” Colleen yelled as she scrambled onto Scott’s shoulders.

Ah, crap, I hate this game . I’d had enough water wrestling for one lifetime—that was for sure. But before I could say no, Colleen and Scott were coming at me with better motivation than I could muster. Even though Scott could barely see without his glasses, he was taller than Rob so they had the advantage, and Colleen’s hands were like chicken claws, clenching and unclenching.

“You’re going down, Hancock,” Scott said.

No doubt .

Colleen’s fingers laced through mine and her wrists bent to get better leverage.

“Come on, Lily. You can take her,” grunted Rob from below. He held my feet like stirrups and tried to push me up to get the better of Colleen. All I could think about was how clumsy and awkward I felt with Rob struggling beneath me.

Colleen rammed into me, and Rob staggered. The world pitched at a forty-five-degree angle and hung suspended for a second before I splashed into the lake, now deeper. Iron and silt tinted the dark water. The soft leh, lee, leh, lee filled my ears.

“Again,” said Rob, but I backed away, treading water.

“I don’t think Chicken is my game,” I said.

“We don’t have to play, then,” Rob said. “Let’s do something else.”

I sputtered water from my lips and pushed my hair off my face. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

He put both hands on my arms and gave me a look that said something I didn’t want to hear. Oh, no. Oh, no no no . I turned one shoulder into his chest, laughing so I wouldn’t offend him. I looked to Colleen for support, but she and Scott had not-so-subtly turned their backs and were focusing on each other.

“Listen, Lily, I was thinking—”

“I already have a boyfriend,” I said, hoping it wasn’t a lie, hoping I wasn’t embarrassing myself by misreading where this was going. I turned toward the beach and swam until it was shallow enough to stand.

Rob was still right there, but at least now it was his turn to look awkward. His cheeks flushed as the sun reflected off the water and up at his face. “That guy from up north?”

“Jules told you?”

“Yeah, but I guess I thought you were making him up.”

“Oh, c’mon, Robby. Why would I do that?”

“Well, you never dated anyone around here, and you weren’t up there for that long; I thought maybe you were only saying that because I hadn’t asked you.…”

“My ego isn’t that fragile,” I said.

“Oh, I know, I didn’t mean …” His hand was back on my arm.

“Whatever.” I kept moving.

“Don’t be like that. We’d be great together.”

“Don’t be like what ?” I asked, spinning on him. “Reasonable? Not idiotic? We’re friends.” This would have been embarrassing if it weren’t so maddening. What was wrong with guys? It must by the Y chromosome. Even if this made sense, we were leaving for college in ten weeks.

“Right! Friends!” said Rob. “We already like each other.”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Rob rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding me?” He plucked at my bathing-suit strap, and I slapped his hand away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, Lily, you are such a tease.”

His words punched the wind out of me. “Take. That. Back.”

“No,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “I won’t.”

“What have I ever done to you?”

“Exactly my point,” he said, his face turning smug.

“Are you for real? Since when did you become such an ass?” I turned and slogged through the water, then marched up to the picnic table. Jules and Colleen were fighting over a chip bag. Sophie was nearby, burying herself in the sand. By the time I’d squeezed the water out of my hair, Scott, Zach, and Rob had resumed their football game, although I noticed Rob throw a few furtive looks my way, too.

Stupid, stupid, stupid boys. Ruining everything with their stupid assumptions and stupid hands and stupid promises to come back for me . I wrapped my towel around me like a sarong. I needed a few minutes to myself. When no one was looking, I stole away, following a line of oak trees thirty feet from the shore, north toward a wobbly boat dock. There were three aluminum rowboats on the shore, turned on their sides. A perfect, shady place to sit. And hide. And wait for it to be time to go home. Home . Wherever that was these days.

I drummed my fingers on the first metal hull, which rang hollow. Same with the second. The bow of the third row-boat rested against the dock. As I prepared to sit beneath its shade, a hand shot out and grabbed my ankle.

Istifled a shriek and hit the sand as another hand reached around my waist and pulled me under the small metal boat.

For a moment all we did was stare. His green eyes brooding, yet as frightened as my own. His wet hair hanging in dark, twisted ropes against his olive-tanned face. His soaking-wet board shorts pressing against my thighs.

The hull closed in on us from all sides, and the small confines amplified my senses. Even the silence bounced around, echoing in my ears. The smell of patchouli hung heavy in the air. Heat licked up at us from the sand, and his breath was hot against my face.

“Look at you,” he said, and his voice was disappointed.

I pulled the towel closer around me, but he yanked it off—his hands shaking—pressing his lips to my neck, trailing my collarbone. He pulled back and studied me with as much distance as the boat would allow. I counted to five before he let out a small groan, saying, “There. That’s better. It’s killing me to look at you, but I’ve really missed that color. Nobody lights up like you do.”

Instinctively, I pushed him away. How dare he show up, out of the blue, without so much as a lame excuse for his silence. More than that, a shiver of fear raised the hair on my arms. Was he working up my emotions just so I’d be a more satisfying absorption?

I was ashamed of myself for even thinking it—Calder had worked hard to overcome the merfolk’s naturally gloomy disposition and his craving for human emotion—but from the way his hands were shaking, it was clear our separation had set him back a few steps. How far back I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

“Definitely better,” he said.

I laughed nervously, wondering what color I might have been when he first grabbed me. Based on the flash of terror I’d had, it must have been pretty awful. Now, despite my attempt to stay mad, he was stoking me into euphoria with his touch. I could only imagine the temptation my emotions presented. Two deep breaths and I hoped I could subdue it, but he trailed his finger across my lips and then put it to his own so I knew I’d have to work harder on that.

“Man, you look beautiful.” His voice was deep and rich like a riverbed.

“Where have you been?” I demanded.

“Around,” he said, combing his fingers through my hair, fixing his warm gaze on my narrowed eyes, drawing me into his spell against my will.

“Yeah?” I said, doing my best to at least keep my tone sharp. I wasn’t doing as well controlling my hands, which lay flat against his hip bones but no longer pushed him away. His long legs tangled with mine. “That’s all you’ve got? ‘Around’? How’s the fasting going?”

A rush of blood flooded his cheeks, making him look, if it were possible, even more gorgeous. “Don’t be mean, Lily.”

“ Mean? You think I’m mean?”

“Of course it’s been harder without you,” he said. “A few close calls, but I’ve held it together.”

“Could have fooled me. What were you doing grabbing me like that? I could have been anybody.” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. It probably hadn’t mattered to him who it was. I probably was just anybody. “Close calls”? I didn’t want to think what that implied.