“Nope.”
“How is that possible? They’re a freaking phenomenon.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you one of those guys who thinks mermaids are only for girls?”
“Not even a little bit. I haven’t read the Percy Jackson books orThe Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobeeither. Fantasy’s just not my thing.”
“Fantasy can be anyone’s thing.”
He allows that. “Then I guess I’m not interested in reading about little kids.”
It takes true effort to reel in my exasperation. It irks me when people act as though books about children can’t have meaningful themes. Even Henry, unwitting star of my fantasies, isn’t immune to my fierce defense of my favorite books. “Delphina’s not a little kid. She’s fourteen when the trilogy starts and our age at the end of the third book. By then, this land dweller who comes from nothing has saved the sea, found true love, and become the ruler of a kingdom of merfolk. She’s ahero.”
Henry smirks, amused. “If you say so.”
I pick up my book and hug it to my chest, shielding it from his indifference. “You sound like my sister.”
His eyes twinkle—he’s obviously flattered. “Yeah?”
I level him with a glower. “That’snota compliment.”
Henry
Piper looks like she wants to tear my arm off, then use it to beat me over the head.
I’m saved by Clay, the server working our section. Mateo introduced me to him when I came in earlier. He goes to FSU but is renting a condo in Sugar Bay for the summer with a bunch of friends. He gives me a nod, drops off a plate of shrimp and fries, tops off Piper’s iced tea, then takes off for another table.
Piper pushes her meal toward me. “I’ll share, but only because this is enough shrimp to feed an army. I’m not rewarding your holier-than-thou literary attitude.” She puts on a mocking tone.“Fantasy’s not my thing.”
I laugh, marveling at this paradox of a girl who reads kids’ books and lobs f-bombs across restaurants. I’m supposed to eat with my dad later, but he’s out in Pensacola at a restaurant supply store. Not long before I noticed Piper was here, he texted to tell me he’s held up in traffic. I’m starving, and weak when it comes to fried food.
We let my apparent shit taste in books go in favor of attacking Piper’s meal. The girl can put away some coconut shrimp. She pauses when she notices me dunking fries in tartar sauce. “Ew,” she says.
“What’d you mean,ew?”
“Fries are meant to be eaten with ketchup.”
“You have a lot of opinions,” I tell her, tossing a tartar-dipped fry into my mouth.
She grimaces. “It’s weird, is all.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.” I hold a saucy fry out to her.
“Pass.”
She sips her iced tea, which has a half dozen squeezed lemon wedges floating in it. Her dark curls are coiled in a knot, and there are black bikini strings tied around her neck. Her dress is a very sheer field of flowers, and there’s a dusting of white sand across her suntanned shoulders, like someone sprinkled sugar over her skin.
“Come from the beach?” I ask.
“Yep. I worked this morning. And now here I am, dining with a stranger.”
“Hey, you can’t criticize my literaryandculinary tastes, then call me a stranger.”
She grins, giving me a shrug like,Touché, and Jesus, her smile is contagious. “That shirt you were wearing the other night, the blue one—that’s where you work?”
“Sugar Bay Marine Conservation Park.” Her expression goes dreamy, like there’s no better place in the world. “We rehabanimals and educate the public. Lots of tourists visit.”
“Should I check it out?”
“Totally. Come when I’m working, and I’ll show you the best exhibits.” She plucks a shrimp from the plate, chewing while she gives me a once-over. “Your face is scorched,” she observes, as if I haven’t noticed that I’m seared like a tuna steak.
