I force some breaths through my nose, straighten up off the door, and pull it open to face the hallway.
It’s Fox.
He says he and Kit are identical, but you wouldn’t know it to look at them. Fox is taller, broader, almost brighter somehow, like the printer used up most of its ink before it got to his two-minutes-younger brother. He’s tall, too, the only one that really makes me feel short, especially with the shadow from the one overhead light back here making even his friendly features look harsh.
“It saysoccupied, man,” I say, pointing at the little window in the doorknob. “Can’t you fuckin’ read?”
“Oh.” Fox blinks. “Uh. My bad.”
He doesn’t move. We’re standing close in this corridor, very close. My eyes are right at his collarbone, the undone buttons of his henley, and…
Andfuck, I might be a little drunk.
“You goin’ in, or?” My words come out all pissed off. Iampissed off, I realize.
“Uh. Yeah.” Fox nods, and unfreezes. “Uh, my bad. Again.”
He slips past me into the bathroom. I listen to the lock thunk into place in the door and give my fists a single clench before I walk off.
That’s another thing I’ve learned. As a guy, you can be pissed off. You can be sulky, grumpy, angry, and it’s, like…fine. People respect it. Work around it. Give you a wide berth, just like the Mermaids are right now as I stomp my way back to the bar.
Fine. What do they know, anyway?
“There ‘e is!” Pan spreads his arms wide, beaming a big bright smile at my return. “Hey, man, about earlier, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “Just…”Don’t overexplain, I remind myself.Guys don’ttalkso much.“You don’t have to,” I finish.
Pan sighs. “Don’t I, though?” He spins on his seat so he’s looking out at the rest of the Lagoon, arms flat on the bar behind him. “Don’t have to try and help out my right-hand man?”
The words are warm. Affectionate, even.
But they still hit me right in the chest.
“Think it’s supposed to be the other way around,” is all I say.
Pan swigs his beer and swipes at the air. “I just hate to see you all lonely, is all.”
“I’m not lonely,” I reply. “I’ve got you.” Pause. “All,” I add. “Got you all. All of you.”
If Pan notices my pause, he doesn’t show it. He just leans in, close. So I can hear him over the music.
“I just want you to behappy,Tink,” he drawls. “You’ll tell me if I can make you happy, right?”
God, he’s so convincing, socharming.You can see what the Mermaids see in him. What all girls see in him. Not just personality, either. How he’s tall but not too tall, slender but not skinny, all lean muscles and ease. Winding ink over his skin, and that one earring dangling, the first piercing he ever got and first one Blue ever gave, so the legend goes. That stupid firetruck hair. The faint dimples when he smiles.
The way that, when he looks at you, really looks at you, you feel like the only girl in the world.
“Yeah.” I say at last. My voice sounds too high. I cough. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll—whatever.”
I swallow more beer, glance up at the mirror panels one more time. At what they see. At whathesees.
Me. Tink. But still. Even for all that.
I rub my jaw absently. Touch a finger to my lips.
I could be pretty, I think.I think I even was, once.
CHAPTER 4
