Merman's Kiss (Merman's Kiss, Book 1) Page 6

  My thumb hovers over his name, but I can’t click on it. I just can’t. I press my phone against my chest. I’m not ready to forgive him and let him back into my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to welcome any man into my life.

  Chapter Seven

  One week later

  My eyes snap open when I hear knocking on the door. I groan and roll over on my bed. I have no idea what time it is, but I know it’s way too early for someone to be pounding on my door. Today’s my day off and I plan on sleeping in until lunchtime, then hanging out at the beach.

  But the knocking doesn’t stop. I smash my pillow over my head.

  Knock. Pound. Knock.

  “Go away!” I yell into the pillow.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  I throw the pillow off and drag myself up and toward the door. If it’s a kid pulling a prank or someone trying to sell me something…

  “What do you want?” I shout through the door.

  “C-Cassie?”

  I freeze.

  That voice. I would recognize it anywhere. I bend forward to look through the peephole. Golden hair. It can’t be…

  My shaky, sweaty fingers close over the knob. It won’t open. Of course it won’t open if it’s locked. I unlock it and pull the door open, knocking it into my left side and producing a small yelp. He stands before me, dressed in what looks like women’s pink shorts.

  He follows my gaze and laughs sheepishly. “It was all I could find.”

  I blink at him. Then at the shorts, which are really, really short and tight…and his chest, his naked chest. I force my eyes back to his face. Damarian. What the hell is he doing here?

  His eyes move back and forth between mine. “I have startled you.”

  “N-no.” I clear my throat. “I mean, no of course not.” The door widens a little and I stumble to the left. I didn’t realize I was putting my weight on it.

  He holds out a hand. “I am sorry for arriving here unannounced. I…” He drops his hand to his side and searches the area around him. I peek out. Random passersby are starting to stare at the half naked guy wearing only tight women’s shorts.

  I slam my hand to my forehead, snapping myself back into it. “Sorry. Come in.” I widen the door and step back as he squeezes past me. I get a whiff of that ocean scent. His hair glistens with water, but the rest of him is pretty dry.

  After closing the door, I slowly raise my eyes. His bore into mine. Then they move a little lower, to my lips. They tingle as I remember the feeling of his light kiss. His gaze drops even lower. I glance down and realize I’m wearing a loose white shirt and light blue underwear. My cheeks sizzle.

  Making a run for my room, I call out, “Make yourself comfortable while I change and find something for you to wear.”

  When I get to my room, I cover my face and laugh. Out of embarrassment, excitement, confusion—I don’t know. I find myself on my knees and laughing so hard my sides ache.

  Once I calm down, I search my closet for something to wear. I lean against the clothing, almost losing my balance and crashing into the closet. He’s here. He’s here. Why is he here?

  I settle on jeans and a purple shirt. Opening my bottom drawer, I pull out Leah’s father’s jeans—the ones I gave Damarian last week. I didn’t have the willpower to return them to her. Like I didn’t want to let go of him, which is stupid, I know. I find his shirt and inhale its scent. Even though I washed both the shirt and jeans, they still smell like him. Like salt water.

  Damarian is sitting on the living room couch. I hold out the clothes. Recognition enters his eyes and they light up. “You have not returned them to your friend?”

  My mouth opens, but no words come out. I don’t know what to say—that I spent every night of the last week wishing and hoping he’d return?

  “You can throw out the shorts,” I tell him. “Unless you’d rather keep them.”

  He smiles crookedly. “That would not be a wise choice.”

  My own cheeks lift. “No, it wouldn’t.”

  He nods and disappears into the room next door with the clothes. I fall on the couch and let out a breath. I feel like someone’s squeezing my body when Damarian’s in the same room as me.

  My fingers wring in my lap. My knees shake.

  He emerges a few minutes later, wearing the clothes the right way this time and looking incredibly hot. I do a quick sweep of him before resting my eyes on his face. “Um…hi,” I say.

  “Hello.”

  He sits down near me. I chew on one of my braids. Sitting so close to him…it’s causing every hair on my body to stand up.

  “Wh…” I clear my throat again. “I mean…why…where…?”

  He shifts on the couch. “I…” He pushes some hair off his right eye. “When I returned home…” His eyes flick to the blank TV screen before returning to my face. “I could not forget you, Cassie.”

  My heart dances wildly, sending hot blood throughout my body. I clench my fingers to my palms as the room gets uncomfortably hot.

  “I had to return to land,” he continues.

  I stare into his eyes and he into mine. He raises a hand and brings it to my cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either,” I whisper.

  He lowers his hand and we sit side by side. The room grows silent. I wring my hands again. Damarian sits straight, his gaze on the blank TV.

  “Did anyone see you?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I believe not. I left home late last night and swam to land. I remained there until I shifted into my human form. Then I discovered that garment…” He motions his head toward the shorts that he threw on the recliner. “When the sun rose, I traveled to your home.”

  The risk, the danger. All for me. Every part of me is bursting to ask why—why me? What’s so special about me? I know I’m the first and only human he’s had contact with, but he’s a merman. The ladies in the ocean must be goddesses compared to me.

  I make circles on the carpet with my toes. “How long are you staying?”

  Our eyes meet. “I am not certain.”

  I continue making circles. “I guess you have nowhere to stay…”

  He doesn’t say anything, just looks helplessly around my house. A few seconds pass before he gets up and says, “I apologize. I do not know what I was thinking…arriving here, thinking I could remain with you.” He takes a step toward the door, but I grab his arm.

  “I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. Please, sit down.”

  He nods and sits.

  “I’m just…overwhelmed, I guess. You’re more than welcome to stay. I…I’d love for you to stay.”

  His face washes with relief and he smiles.

  I stand. “We need to go shopping. Find you clothes. And we’ll need to stock up on that sea salt just in case.”

  He nods. He looks terrified and anxious, but also excited. I grab my purse and reach for his hand. The way it slides into mine—it’s like a perfect fit. I feel the spark all the way in my toes.

  I lead him out the door and toward my car, well Mom’s car. He stops short, his hand gliding out of mine. He stares at it.

  “What is this?” he asks.

  “A car.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Car?”

  “Yep. That’s how we humans get from one place to another. These legs don’t have super speed like that tail of yours.”

  That makes him smile. I open the passenger door for him and he slides in. Then I get into the driver’s seat. I’m about to buckle my seatbelt when I realize Damarian needs to be buckled in, too. I glance at him. “Um…”

  “Yes?”

  “The law requires…you know, I’ll strap you in.” I bend forward and reach for his seatbelt. The thing’s tangled. As I try to untangle it, I feel his eyes on me. I turn my head. His face is so close to mine that I feel his warm breath tickling my cheek. Our eyes are locked on one another. The air
gets knocked out of me.

  We just stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like forever, until a group of kids across the street shriek as they chase each other down the block. I tear my gaze from him and focus on untangling the belt. When it’s free, I stretch it across his chest, my heart hammering, my fingers shaking. I slide back to my seat, buckle myself, and wrap my fingers around the steering wheel to steady them.

  The only thing I hear is our breathing—his soft, mine heavy.

  I clear my throat. “So we’re going to the mall. That’s where you can buy shirts, pants, shoes…” He’s been walking around barefoot all this time.

  “Yes,” he says.

  I start the car and drive toward the mall. Damarian’s face is pressed against the window, soaking in our world. I peek at him from time to time, watching the way he silently marvels at everything.

  “How do you stay hidden?” I ask.

  He stares at the spot in front of him, frowning.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  It hurts that he can’t trust me, but of course he can’t. I don’t blame him. Just…I’m still not so sure why he came back.

  “We’re here.” I kill the engine and reach over to release Damarian’s seatbelt, making sure not to touch him or get sucked into his eyes. “Just pull the latch and the door should open.”

  He does as I say and climbs out of the car. I feel this wall between us. Not that we were ever really open with one another. I want to know everything about him, learn about his life, about him. Did he come back for me or because he’s curious about humans?

  “Um…this way,” I say, leading him toward a clothing store. A few people glance at his bare feet and quickly avert their gazes, probably thinking he’s crazy. I stay close to him so he won’t get lost in the large store.

  His jaw drops a bit as he surveys the main floor and the escalators. “This is where humans acquire garments?”

  “That, among other things.” I take his arm and bring him toward the escalators. “Men’s clothing is on the second floor.”

  “What is this?”

  “Escalators. They’re used to transport people from one floor to another.”

  His eyes widen as he watches a woman and toddler get on it.

  “It’s a lot of fun. You’ll see.” I take his hand and step closer to the escalator. His grip on me tightens, as though he’s about to walk to his death. I give him a reassuring squeeze and raise my leg, urging him to do the same. We step on it.

  Damarian looks behind him for a second before returning his focus on me. His eyes fill with intrigue. Then he nearly loses his balance. I tighten my hold on his hand and tell him to grab onto the rail.

  “This is most peculiar,” he says.

  We reach the second floor and get off the escalator. Damarian stops short when he sees the many items on display. “How does one know what to acquire?” he asks.

  “Now that’s a good question.”

  I hate shopping, but doing it for Damarian…it doesn’t make me hate it so much. Maybe because he’s so dependent on me right now, and I want to make his stay here as comfortable and perfect as possible. My only problem is that a dog has better fashion sense than me.

  “Well, you can’t go wrong with jeans,” I say, showing him a pile on one of the racks.

  His lips form a straight line. “I am not one to appreciate such rough garments.”

  That makes me giggle. “Okay. You can try khakis or cargo pants. I mean, there are more kinds of pants, but that’s all I know…” I lead him to another rack and hold out a pair of khakis.

  He takes it and runs a hand down the length of it. “This is softer.” He lifts his eyes to me. “Do most human males wear the rough fabric?”

  It’s cute how he doesn’t want to stand out. “Most guys your age would probably wear the jeans, but a lot of guys wear khakis, too.”

  He continues feeling the pants. “This would feel more comfortable.”

  “Okay. Um…your size…” This is another area where I’m clueless. “I guess you can try on a few sizes and see which fits best.”

  “All right.” He slides his thumbs into the jeans he’s wearing.

  “No!” I nearly shout, placing my hands over his. “Not here. There are fitting rooms.”

  He looks lost.

  “Rooms to try the clothes on. It’s not really modest to undress in a room full of people.” I gesture to the other shoppers. Some are peeking at us, which causes my cheeks to warm up.

  “I understand.” He looks around. “Where are these fitting rooms?”

  “Let’s look for some more clothes so you can try them on at once. You want to look for shirts?”

  “Yes.”

  We spend the next few minutes checking out T-shirts. Damarian picks out a few and we head for the fitting rooms.

  “I’ll wait out here,” I tell him. “Only men are allowed in there.”

  He nods unsurely.

  “There’s a mirror inside, so you can check out how you look. I’ll be out here if you want to show me.”

  He nods again and disappears into the room.

  I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the wall. Goose bumps pop up all over my arms, and they’re not due to the air conditioning in this place.

  Five minutes pass and no Damarian. I hope he’s okay.

  Ten minutes pass. I crane my neck to look inside, but I can’t see much.

  When fifteen minutes have passed, I start to pace around. I hope he’s okay and not unconscious on the floor. I have no idea how long he’s been out of salt water.

  I crack a few knuckles.

  He finally emerges, dressed in the khakis and a light gray shirt. I falter back as I take him in. He looks good. Really good. Like he stepped off a runway.

  I blink and smile. “What do you think?” I circle around him to make sure it fits well. As far as I know, he looks amazing.

  “They feel comfortable.”

  “Cool. Did you try on the other shirts?”

  “Yes. They all feel comfortable.”

  “Okay, good. Do you want to buy some more or are you good?”

  “I am well, thanks.”

  I stare at him. “I mean…are you satisfied with your clothes?”

  “Yes. Thank you for all your help.”

  I feel my cheeks heat up. “No problem.” I turn away and chew on my pigtail. “Shoes?”

  He looks down and stretches his leg out. “Is it a requirement?”

  I scrunch my nose. “Yeah. I know it feels good without shoes, but you’ll get hurt if you don’t wear any.”

  “All right.”

  We make our way to the shoes section. After a few minutes, he chooses flip-flops.

  “Do you want anything else?” I ask.

  “I do not believe so.”

  I think for a few seconds. What would a human guy need? “Underwear,” I say. “Of course you need underwear. And pajamas.”

  He looks baffled.

  “Well, you need underwear to wear under your...” I shut my mouth and lead him toward the section that sells male underwear. I study the items for sale. Boxers, briefs, boxer briefs. I scratch my head. “Hmm, I guess we should go with boxers, since you can’t stand tight things.”

  “All right.”

  “Now for pajamas.” We make our way to the right section. After examining the pajamas, Damarian settles on dark grey pants. “You probably will feel more comfortable sleeping shirtless, but we should buy some tank tops just in case.” I swallow as my eyes flash to his chest. I yank them away. “Okay, we’re all set.”

  We wait in line at the cash register. Damarian stands quietly, watching all the activity around him, observing the way people shop, how they interact with one another. After a few minutes, he says, “Why are we waiting?”

  “We need to pay.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “Pay.”

  “Yep. You can’t get anything for free here. If you want it, you’ve got to pay for it.”


  His eyebrows furrow even more. “Pay. But I have not—”

  “Next in line, please!”

  He follows me to the cashier, where I place his clothing on the counter. I feel him grow uneasy and hear him shuffling from one foot to another. It’s interesting how his human instincts are kicking in.

  The woman scans the items and says the price. My heart drops a bit. That’s a lot of money. Biting down on my lip, I pull out my credit card. I hope Mom won’t kill me.

  “Cassie,” Damarian says.

  I look at him.

  “Those are my garments. I should provide the pay.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But I insist. I will provide for the pay somehow.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Cassie, I do insist.”

  The woman’s eyes go from me to Damarian, back and forth. I clear my throat and say, “Credit, please.”

  When everything’s done, I thank the woman and grab the bag. I march quickly to the door and see Damarian trying to keep up. When we’re close to the doors, he gently places a hand on my arm. “Cassie…”

  “You’re new here. You don’t have any money. This is my gift to you, okay?”

  His eyes search mine, and I can see he doesn’t like it. But he knows he has no choice. I open the door and hold it out for him.

  “We have no such method in the sea,” he says.

  “What kind of method do you have?”

  “We trade. If my friend has an item I require, I offer an item of equal value.”

  “Barter,” I say. “We did that years ago.” At least, I think we did. I don’t really remember much of history class.

  “Is there any way I can relinquish you of the burden of my pay?” he asks.

  I unlock the car and place the bag in the back seat. “We’re friends, Damarian. Friends give each other gifts. Think of this as a Welcome Back to the Human World gift.”

  We climb into the car. “I must offer you something in exchange,” he says.

  I reach for his buckle and strap him in. “I’d really love it if you’d drop it.”

  He leans back and huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.