Set out to prove that I indeed have embarrassing hobbies, the two of us sit at the kitchen table with my scrapbooking supplies. With the smirk on her face, it really does seem like there’s nothing I could show Marina that would make her want to be next to me any less.
If my lack of experience and theremin haven’t scared her off, nothing will—I’m glad. Seeing the girl I’ve been searching for sipping lemonade across from me is surreal. Clawrece has abandoned her usual post at my side to sit by Marina, lovingly gazing up at her. She wasn’t only missed by me, clearly.
“There’s something soothing about it, don’t you think?” I ask, passing her the wavy scissors. “Here, I’ve never been able to use these.” I stretch my fingers out to show off the webbing between them.
She tilts her head. “Then how did you do this?” she asks, holding up a page with intricate cuts and waves for a friend’s baby shower card; the grooves are a little uneven, so it went into the scrap pile, though with the way she’s looking at it, you’d think it was fine art.
“Like this,” I begin, pulling a colorful sheet of paper out of the stack and extending my claws. With practiced hands, I cut out a simple design using the tips of my claws.
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I told you, darlin,’ Ican’tuse the wavy scissors,” I say, pushing them toward her.
Her face brightens with a grin before she hesitates. “I just—everything is so neat, I don’t want to mess it up,” she says, running her fingers through her hair.
“It’s not possible. Every little marker smudge is a memory. Like this one here.” I grab a work-in-progress from the pile with a scribble on the front cover. “This is for my sister Goldie’s youngest guppy, who as you can see, already got a head start on the design. Rather than trying to cover up the scribbles, I’m using them as a part of the birthday scrapbook for her.”
“That’s sweet,” she says, eyeing it thoughtfully, and I nod. The best kind of art is the sort you make together. There’s no denying it, especially after the music Marina and I made all but an hour ago.
“Anything you’d add?” I ask, watching her turn it over in her hands.
“More glitter for sure,” she says without missing a beat. I notice her hands trace some pictures, ones of me with my family, along with a few snapshots of Magnus and me from around the time we met at the campground.
I wish we had an album of all those memories, but back then, I didn’t think to take pictures. Most kids assume things last forever.
“See,” I say, grabbing a tube of glitter glue to trace out a heart. Sure enough, the puff paint adds just the right touch.
“You’re only making things better,” I say, watching her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.
“You really think so?”
“I know so.”
She stares out the window, and I’m unable to tell what it is I’m seeing on her face— exhaustion, regret, boredom? There’s something here that she’s not telling me.
“Why don’t we get some fresh air?” I ask gently.
“Alright, yeah,” Marina says, walking ahead of me toward the dock. I grab some drinks for the two of us, and by the time I return, she’s staring out at the water.
“Is something wrong?”
“I keep wondering, what’s the catch?”
“Me,I’m hoping.” I laugh, but Marina doesn’t smile. Uncertainty builds as I puff up my gills and think through the question. “Ah, you mean: what am I hiding? Besides the theremin and scrapbooking.”
“It’s gotta be something bad if you’re this perfect. Normally, by date three, I have a sordid back story, but you… Gil, I don’t even think I know your last name.”
I let out a deep breath, holding my webbed hands up. “Darlin’, ’m a giant fish man—that is the bad thing,” I say slowly and watch her wrinkle her nose. “And my last name is Cichlid.”
“That’s cute,” she says, moving a little closer.
“And yours if you want it,” I reply, far too cocky for someone who’s admitted they’ve never been kissed.
“Um.” Marina’s jaw is slack as she points off in the distance. Her skyward eyes are wide and—oh no.
Not tonight. My shoulders slump as I shake my head, looking at the red-haired menace flying toward the dock.
I understand Magnus is going through a hard time after a slew of romantic woes and drama with his court. He’s been spending more time on the water than at his castle—which would be fine if his destination of choice wasn’t alwaysmy damn house.
