29

Erie

I’ve never felt anything as warm and soft as Finn’s lips. My tail tightens involuntarily around his legs and bubbles escape his mouth, filling mine with warm air. I breathe him in, his breath tickling—just shy of stinging—my gills as it passes through. The feeling is so new and delicious that it takes the pain of his fingers digging into my arms for me to realize I’m drowning him.

“Oh!” Bubbles leave my mouth and gills with the word, like I’m landfolk. I unwind my tail and push him to the surface, where he coughs and gasps for air.

By the Tides, I almost killed Finn. I didn’t even think about it—I just stole his breath because I wanted to kiss him. Jen’s right to fear me.

“What happened?” She reaches for him. “Are you okay?”

Finn coughs once more before answering. “Erie kissed me.” He doesn’t sound angry—or pleased—about it. Have I screwed everything up by kissing him? I thought it would help him fall in love with me.

“Maybe we should go,” Jen says. “Where’s your Scuba?”

I hold it up, and she takes it with barely a glance at me. “Finn didn’t swim.”

“Another time, sweetness.” He sounds tired, or wary. “Right now, I need to catch my breath and rest my ankle. We’ll swim again soon.”

Soon. We’ll swim soon. He’ll get me out of here soon. I’m sick of soon. I’m tired of being patient, of waiting for his promises to come true. I lunge in front of him, and he stops short. He glances at Jen, then turns his nervous gaze back to me. I know why he wants to leave. I scare him. When he’s in the water, I’m in control, and both times, he’s nearly drowned. Part of me wants to drag him under and keep him with me forever. If I can’t leave, then neither can he.

“Erie?” His voice is quiet. Worried. I kissed him so he’d fall in love with me, but all I’ve done is scare him.

I dive to the bottom of the pool before I hurt him again, and wrap my tail around myself so I don’t have to see when he leaves, the tank as empty as his promised soon.