Deep Betrayal Page 0,47

“That is so annoying. How long have you been out here?”

“Since sunset,” Calder said.

“I’ve been waiting all night for you,” I said curtly. “Maybe you should try being a little less antisocial.”

“No, I’m good.” He took me into an embrace, curling me up in his lap between a moss-covered rock, and a shaggy cedar tree. He touched his lips gently to mine, and the tingle of electricity off him felt like humming through a comb.

“Someone will come looking for me if I don’t get back soon,” I said, although I didn’t really believe it.

“Not for a while,” he whispered; then his lips were at my ear. “Who are you sharing a tent with?”

“Gabby, of course.”

“I’ve got another option, if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested.”

He leaned back and admired whatever colors I was putting off. They must have been bright because it was enough to attract a trio of white moths that flew halos above my head.

“But I do have a reputation to maintain,” I said.

“What’s that?” he asked, smirking. “Moody city girl? Or were you going for the less emo, artistic out-of-towner? I’ve been listening for hours, and you’ve barely said two words since dinner. And who wears a … what is this?”

“It’s a poncho. It’s chenille.”

Calder shook his head. “Who wears a chenille poncho on a camping trip?” He took two fingers and flipped the pompon ties that hung under my chin.

“The wind is cold,” I said.

“I didn’t think the cold ever bothered you.”

“That only applies to the lake, and it’s easier to stay warm when you’re around, but since you weren’t … I guess I had to resort to inappropriate outerwear.”

He kissed me quiet. “When everyone else goes to bed, you go, too. I’ll come wake you later.”

It was harder to pay attention to the campfire banter after that. Serious Boy had grown quiet, and he was the only one I was interested in hearing from anyway. Once or twice he looked at me with a strange wistfulness that made me squirm in my chair.

As the night drew on and people got tired, the conversation slowed. Some people seemed to be asleep in their chairs. Others got up and quietly retreated to their tents. Gabby snuck off with Serious Boy’s friend. Looked like I was going to have the tent to myself.

Before I had time to consider what that might mean, Brady broke the long silence with a sentence that brought everyone back from the dead: “So how goes the mermaid hunt, Jack?”

Serious Boy looked up quickly, his eyes wide and intent, first on me and then on Jack. There was a beat of silence, then the fire cracked on a pine log. Connor looked around the circle. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Jack here thinks we should spray mermaid repellant around our campsite,” said Brady. Connor snorted, then—when he noticed Jack’s serious expression—laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.

Jack glared at him in the darkness, vitriol in his eyes.

19

CONCENTRATED TIME

My dad always said if anything good was going to happen, it would happen before midnight. That was the rationale for my twelve o’clock curfew back when we lived in Minneapolis. Of course, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Even when I was in junior high, slumber party conversations didn’t get deep and interesting until after one. The same was true with dating a merman. Nothing compared to a midnight swim—our first real swim, alone, since returning to the lake. If this was what Calder meant by “concentrated time,” he could have it whenever he wanted.

“I thought you didn’t want me in the water,” I said when he brought me up for air.

“Just this once,” he said. “For old time’s sake.”

The Big and Little Dippers filled the sky with a light that held its own against the pale disk of the moon and stirred the lake into a rich navy, with black ripples, like a Van Gogh painting. The only other light was the reflection of the silver-sequined tail that propelled us forward and kept us buoyant when we stopped to appreciate the time alone together. When the moon hit it, a dazzling spray of twinkly lights scattered across the surface of the water. It was like dancing under a disco ball, and it was like choreography, slow and twirling.

Calder would extend his arm, letting me out as far as I could go while maintaining contact, and then he’d pull me in so close his heart pounded in my ears. He circled me over and twisted me down. Sometimes I wondered