“Really?”
“Yes. The opposite of the water. Nothing like the curse.”
“Oh.” That makes more sense. But still, somehow it doesn’t seem right to me.
He lets go of my hand and steps over the Astroturf, walking to where his ball still sits, a few feet shy of the hole. He plants his feet shoulder width apart and rests his club on the turf for a second as he lines up the shot. “What do you want to major in when you go to college?”
Before I can respond, he taps the ball, and it rolls gracefully toward the hole, dropping in with a quiet clack.
I shrug. “Something with science. I’m not sure exactly. I was afraid to dream big before. You?”
He leans down and fishes our golf balls out of the hole. Then he walks back over to me. “I used to think I wanted to be an engineer. Build great big buildings, create a legacy that had nothing to do with the water.”
He places my golf ball in my hand, and I grip its cool, uneven surface. “And now?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I stopped dreaming a while ago, when I started to wonder if I’d ever succeed in finding you.”
My cheeks warm, and I look away, toward the next hole. It’s romantic that he spent so long looking for me. He’s so sure I’m the only girl he could ever be with.
He nudges my shoulder. “So this homecoming dance . . . When is it?”
“Two and a half weeks,” I say.
“And do you have a dress?”
I think of the plastic-wrapped gown hanging in my closet, then look down at my feet. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
I nod and meet his beautiful blue eyes, so much like the pair I see in the mirror. “Yeah. I bought it . . . two years ago. Before my, uh, priorities shifted.”
I’ve never told Erik about Steven. Oh, sure, he knows I’m the one who drowned him. But he doesn’t know I was in love with him. Doesn’t know how much I still mourn his loss. Someday, I’ll tell him everything. Someday, he’ll know what happened. But right now? I don’t want to think of it or speak of him; I want to pretend I’m normal.
He steps forward, wraps his arms around my shoulders, and pulls me into his chest. I rest my cheek against his skin. I feel my troubles sliding away, just as if the water were washing it off me. It’s amazing, to think that he knows my biggest secret, and yet he doesn’t care. Two years, and now I don’t have to hide it.
And that’s when he kisses me for the first time, right there in the middle of the golf course. I don’t move at first. Erik is gentle, slow, barely brushing his lips against mine. Until I lean into him and he laces his fingers behind my neck and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss for just a moment.
And then the loudspeaker in the warehouse clicks on, and the blaring voice is enough to startle me away from him.
“I . . . uh . . . I’m . . .”
I’m what?
He smiles, looks me right in my wide eyes. “I knew it could be good between us.”
I nod. Good is an understatement. That was ... amazing.
“Do you want to see where I live?” he says.
“What?” For some reason, I hadn’t pictured him living anywhere. But of course, he must.
He smiles shyly. “I thought . . . I could show you. If ... when . . . we start spending more time together, you know, to try and break the curse.... Well, I thought it would be nice for you to feel comfortable there.”
The idea of this—of having a life with someone—makes me so happy. “Okay.”
He grins and leans forward again, giving me a quick kiss on the lips.
“Come on. It’s just down the street a ways.”
It’s at the beach. That’s all I can think as I stare at it, a quaint little beach shack, so different from Cole and Sienna’s oceanfront homes just a mile or so down the shore. This one looks about a thousand square feet, all adorable clapboard accents and white-trimmed windows. Even though it’s a fraction of the size of Cole’s house or Sienna’s house, it’s far more charming. It’s a home. With a big cedar porch swing suspended on chains and little pots of mums lining the walk to the beach. Round, aggregate steps lead to the sand.
Confused, I look at him, still standing near his car. “You bought a beach house?”
“Rented it.”
“But why? You hate the water.”
“I hate rivers. My curse isn’t like yours. It’s tied to a river, not all bodies of water. And besides, you love the ocean, right?”
It’s weird to think it, but yes. I mean, once the curse is gone . . . there’s no reason to hate it. I think.
I find myself hugging him again, a smile pulling at my lips even though I don’t know why. I just like being around him, not having to hide this side of me. Having someone who
“How did you get this place? You’re only seventeen. . . .”
“My parents arranged it all.”
I look up at him, surprised. For some reason, I haven’t thought much about his family. But he has one, of course.
“Like I said, he’s a nix and she’s a siren. They want this to work as much as I do. You’ll meet them, eventually.”
Oh. I wonder what it’s like to have two parents who know what you are, understand your struggle. I wonder what they’re like. Maybe someday I’ll get to talk to his mother. She knows what it’s like, being a siren.
He slides open the glass door and ushers me inside. It smells fresh, like he’s left the windows open all day and the salty sea air has streamed indoors. He leads me through the living room, past the quaint wicker furniture that I can only assume came with the rental, to a small back room, lit only by a lamp with a stained-glass shade.
When I see the large king-size bed under the window, I stop abruptly and stand in the doorway. “You don’t think—”
“No—of course not. If you ever want to stay over, I can take the couch.” He comes back to me and tilts my head up, so that I’m looking into his eyes. “Eventually, when we’ve broken the curse . . . you’ll sleep.”
“What?”
He nods. “When we’ve fixed this . . . when you don’t have to swim anymore . . . you will sleep.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “When the curse is gone, you won’t swim, and that means you need to sleep. Just as . . . regular people do.”
I can hardly remember what it’s like to sleep. He leans in to kiss me, and I close my eyes.
I lose myself to the kiss and to the dreams of what will be.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Are you sure this isn’t too slutty?” I tug at the denim miniskirt and frown as I look in the mirror. The tiny skirt fails to cover most of my upper thigh.
“Are you kidding me? If you got it, flaunt it.” Sienna purses her lips as she slathers on another layer of cherry gloss.
I roll my eyes. “I’m serious. This is kind of short.”
“I thought you wanted to impress Erik?”
I cross my arms and look up at Sienna’s reflection in the mirror. Behind us is about two dozen discarded outfits, creating a towering mound of denim and cashmere atop her bed. “I do. I guess I’m just nervous.”
“I would be too if I was you
“Sure.” I twist at the bracelet on my wrist.
“Um, well, what happened with . . .”
