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“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t not say it, either. That’s my point. You’re normally pretty open when it’s a no. You’ve met plenty of girls, and you have no problem asking them out. Or dumping them. Or just rejecting them. This is a different Emile,” Marcel says.
I chew my lower lip, careful not to accidentally retract my fangs. It hasn’t happened in years and I’d like to keep it that way. The way he says I go around so casually rejecting girls makes me sound rather heartless, I think.
“This Emile is doing a lot of thinking instead of acting. I’m worried he’s thinking too much for his own good,” Marcel finishes.
I don’t know what to say other than something vague. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“And you’re entitled to having a good time with someone you obviously enjoy being around. It’s not rocket science.”
“You said that already.” It feels good to point something out to him rather than the other way around. I can’t wait for the chance to tease him about a crush.
Crush? So you’re admitting you have one?I switch from biting my lips to pacing. Maybe I should reseal some of the tiles in the bathroom to get this nervous energy in me out. So what if I have a crush?
It’s none of Marcel’s business how I feel. Or Clarissa’s, honestly. Crushes are nothing. Crushes are fading fancies, nothing to worry about. Crushes lead to girlfriends lead to exes, when the passing attraction fades and there’s nothing left holding it together.
“Yeah, but you never said anything to it.” I hear Marcel and snap out of my thoughts. “That was a test to see if you were paying attention. You can be good at that when you’re not worrying.”
“Let’s end this conversation on a high note,” I offer, sensing an opportunity to get out of this interrogation with my dignity intact. We’re not in high school. I don’t need advice on how to deal with my emotions – if a crush is even what this is at the end of the day.
“End it by agreeing to my marvelous idea. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” Marcel actually sounds serious.
I narrow my eyes at the ground since he’s not here to receive the look meant for him. It does nothing to keep me from stiffening in preparation for his next words. What is he about to suggest? I’ve already made myself way too available. What else is a decent neighbor supposed to do? Clarissa would do the same for me – for anyone – I’m sure.
Are you sure? You don’t even know anything deep about her and you’re making assumptions. Remember what happens when you do that?
I roll my eyes more at myself than Marcel. “I’m hanging up now.” And I actually do. Not three minutes later, he texts me.
So you hung up on me. Okay. Everyone gets one. You just spent it.I smirk as the text bubbles continue under the message.But you also told me how you really feel. Invite her sailing. You need to check the rig out anyway. Don’t make me fire you.
“You can’t fire me,” I sneer into my phone like some teenager out past curfew.
Ditto,I reply, then slide my phone to Do Not Disturb mode. I don’t want to read whatever he has to say next, even though he has more than one good point. I shoot Clarissa a text, hoping it’s not too late and I won’t be waking her.
How do you feel about sailing?I write, then send it before qualifying the statement at all.I need a co-captain to test out the old girl…I wince and erase my ‘old girl.’ I stop when I see the text bubbles.
I feel like it’s a good place to get a sunburn,she sends back.I frown. Is that a no?I mean suntan, sorry.I smirk at the second text and send a thumbs-up. I tell her to bring a windbreaker just in case, then wonder if she has one. She didn’t come to Aura Creek with much, which leaves me thinking I should bring an extra just in case.
The next morning, I pack three windbreakers and pick up a slew of snacks. The help I hired to get me caught up has worked through the night, and the boat is looking near-perfect because of it.
Rinsing off the deck and seats is my first goal, and I make an effort to spray off all the bits and pieces trekked in from my shoes. I wouldn’t call myself a clean freak, but I do like it when something shines.
A seagull caws overhead just as the cell in my pocket vibrates. I hope it’s not Clarissa calling to cancel. The thought fills me with apprehension even before I manage to pull up my messages.
I see two missed calls from Marcel and heave a deep sigh. I sense a text coming soon, something spicy but at the same time PG-13. Marcel likes to leave a lot to the imagination when it comes to his particular line of questions.
After a moment or two without a text, I put the nuisance back in my pocket and carry in the new life vests I’ve ordered. Plus the emergency raft I hope I’ll never have to use. I go over in my head all the questions Clarissa might have about sailing, which I hope she’ll want to learn.
I tried sailing with Lauren once, but all she wanted to do was drink and look at the water. Every time I tried to explain how the boat worked, she just sighed and told me I was the man. Couldn’t I handle the technical stuff?
“Okay seriously now,” I say to the sky as my phone buzzes and sings once more. I grab it and know it’s Marcel, answering it without reading the caller ID. “You’re asking to get blocked right now. You know that, don’t you?”
“You’re just upset because you haven’t heard my newest idea,” Marcel replies. I roll my eyes and shake my head, willing him to read between the lines of my silence. “It’s a surefire way to help you ease into a relationship with your mermaid, and it only takes a little bit of lying.”
“That’s too much lying already,” I tell him.
“A little bit of fudging the truth, just to see if she likes you back.” I pause and think about the question. Do I want her to like me back? “You know, just when you’re ready to admit you like –”
