Forgive My Fins
Page 63
“There are so many colors in the sea,” he says, his voice full of awe. “Makes me feel kind of out of place in my gray cargo pants.”
Something about that statement twists my heart into a knot, but I ignore the ominous feeling.
“Your eyes,” I say, picturing them from memory. “They are the color of the sea. They’ve always reminded me of home.”
They’re the only part of him that seems to belong here. Everything else—from the earthy blond of his hair to the impressive muscles and rough calluses earned through hours of working on his motorcycle and at the lumberyard—screams land. He—I start blinking too fast—is made of the land.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, as if instantly aware of my thoughts.
“Nothing,” I insist. “I just—”
He floats up so he can look at my face. “Your eyes,” he says, his voice awed. “They’re sparkling. Glittering like they’re painted with tiny gold diamonds.”
Oh, no. Well, I can’t wipe at nonexistent tears, so I change the subject.
“This is my secret spot.” I force myself to stop blinking so fast. “It’s my favorite place in all of Thalassinia. In all the seas.”
Quince scowls for a second, like he’s not buying my distraction, but apparently decides to let me have it. Twisting back skyward, he says, “I can imagine why. It’s beautiful.”
Then, I don’t know why I say it, don’t even think the words before they spill out of my mouth, but I say, “I’ve never shown this place to anyone before.”
Quince freezes, still looking to the surface. “No one?”
I shake my head, even though he might not be able to see me.
“I’m…”
I feel his pleasure before he says it.
“…honored.”
It is such a painfully sweet moment that I almost can’t bear to end it. If only we could just stay here, in this world between worlds, without royal obligations, motorcycles, or bad memories. But I can’t. It’s all ending.
“I’m glad you appreciate it,” I say softly. “Because after tonight, you will never be able to come here again.”
And with that, I’ve sealed our fate. My decision is made.
Despite my confusing feelings for Quince—not that I can trust my feelings lately—and his increasingly obvious feelings for me—I’m going through with the separation. I don’t think I have another choice.
“Think about what you’re doing, Lily,” Quince pleads.
We’re sitting outside Daddy’s office, waiting for his staff to prepare the ritual. Daddy’s face fell when I told him my decision, but he didn’t argue. Maybe he could tell that I was not about to be persuaded.
Quince, on the other hand, still thinks he can change my mind.
“You know how I feel about you,” he says. “And I think you’re starting to feel the same way about me.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I insist.
“The hell it doesn’t.” He slams a fist against the smooth pumice bench and is probably disappointed when the water muffles the effect. “Lily, I love you.”
“No—”
“I know you don’t want to hear that, but I do.” He swims awkwardly in front of me, taking my shoulders in his hands, like if he can just make me look at him, I’ll see how foolish I’m being.
But looking into his eyes only makes my decision easier. Because his eyes are full of a certainty I’m not sure I will ever have.
Yesterday I was head over fins about Brody, and look how well that turned out. I had deluded myself into believing an infatuation was true love. I was ready to commit myself to a lifetime with a boy I barely knew.
How can I be sure that these feelings that are churning for Quince are any more real? Any less imaginary? They might be real. Or they might be symptoms of the bond or a reaction to Brody or just a result of spending so much time together.
And how, if they are true and real, could I allow him to sacrifice everything he knows—his friends, his family, his motorcycle, his future—to spend most of the rest of his life in the ocean?
“Lily, you can’t just throw this—”
“I have to,” I cut in. “We have to. Be logical, Quince. If we don’t separate, then by the next lunar cycle the bond will finalize and you will turn fully mer. Your terraped form—your legs—would be permanently tied to mine.”
“I know that. Your cousin explained the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “Probably thinking it would scare me off.”
“You would never walk on land without me again.”
“So—”
“When I take my place in court, I’ll have to be in Thalassinia almost all the time,” I explain, trying to hit this home for him. “Think about that. Think about being stuck in the ocean most of your life. Not being able to ride your motorcycle whenever you want. Not being able to run or dance or climb a—”
“I don’t dance.” He is still not getting it. “Lily, I’ve spent the last three years crazy over you. I don’t want to let this chance slip away. Especially not now that I’ve seen what things could be like with us.”
Aaargh! He’s being obtuse. “What about your mom?” I ask. “Who would go to the grocery store for her or take out her trash or fix her junker car when she’s late for work?” All things I know Quince has done. Guess I have been paying attention.
Something about that statement twists my heart into a knot, but I ignore the ominous feeling.
“Your eyes,” I say, picturing them from memory. “They are the color of the sea. They’ve always reminded me of home.”
They’re the only part of him that seems to belong here. Everything else—from the earthy blond of his hair to the impressive muscles and rough calluses earned through hours of working on his motorcycle and at the lumberyard—screams land. He—I start blinking too fast—is made of the land.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, as if instantly aware of my thoughts.
“Nothing,” I insist. “I just—”
He floats up so he can look at my face. “Your eyes,” he says, his voice awed. “They’re sparkling. Glittering like they’re painted with tiny gold diamonds.”
Oh, no. Well, I can’t wipe at nonexistent tears, so I change the subject.
“This is my secret spot.” I force myself to stop blinking so fast. “It’s my favorite place in all of Thalassinia. In all the seas.”
Quince scowls for a second, like he’s not buying my distraction, but apparently decides to let me have it. Twisting back skyward, he says, “I can imagine why. It’s beautiful.”
Then, I don’t know why I say it, don’t even think the words before they spill out of my mouth, but I say, “I’ve never shown this place to anyone before.”
Quince freezes, still looking to the surface. “No one?”
I shake my head, even though he might not be able to see me.
“I’m…”
I feel his pleasure before he says it.
“…honored.”
It is such a painfully sweet moment that I almost can’t bear to end it. If only we could just stay here, in this world between worlds, without royal obligations, motorcycles, or bad memories. But I can’t. It’s all ending.
“I’m glad you appreciate it,” I say softly. “Because after tonight, you will never be able to come here again.”
And with that, I’ve sealed our fate. My decision is made.
Despite my confusing feelings for Quince—not that I can trust my feelings lately—and his increasingly obvious feelings for me—I’m going through with the separation. I don’t think I have another choice.
“Think about what you’re doing, Lily,” Quince pleads.
We’re sitting outside Daddy’s office, waiting for his staff to prepare the ritual. Daddy’s face fell when I told him my decision, but he didn’t argue. Maybe he could tell that I was not about to be persuaded.
Quince, on the other hand, still thinks he can change my mind.
“You know how I feel about you,” he says. “And I think you’re starting to feel the same way about me.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I insist.
“The hell it doesn’t.” He slams a fist against the smooth pumice bench and is probably disappointed when the water muffles the effect. “Lily, I love you.”
“No—”
“I know you don’t want to hear that, but I do.” He swims awkwardly in front of me, taking my shoulders in his hands, like if he can just make me look at him, I’ll see how foolish I’m being.
But looking into his eyes only makes my decision easier. Because his eyes are full of a certainty I’m not sure I will ever have.
Yesterday I was head over fins about Brody, and look how well that turned out. I had deluded myself into believing an infatuation was true love. I was ready to commit myself to a lifetime with a boy I barely knew.
How can I be sure that these feelings that are churning for Quince are any more real? Any less imaginary? They might be real. Or they might be symptoms of the bond or a reaction to Brody or just a result of spending so much time together.
And how, if they are true and real, could I allow him to sacrifice everything he knows—his friends, his family, his motorcycle, his future—to spend most of the rest of his life in the ocean?
“Lily, you can’t just throw this—”
“I have to,” I cut in. “We have to. Be logical, Quince. If we don’t separate, then by the next lunar cycle the bond will finalize and you will turn fully mer. Your terraped form—your legs—would be permanently tied to mine.”
“I know that. Your cousin explained the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “Probably thinking it would scare me off.”
“You would never walk on land without me again.”
“So—”
“When I take my place in court, I’ll have to be in Thalassinia almost all the time,” I explain, trying to hit this home for him. “Think about that. Think about being stuck in the ocean most of your life. Not being able to ride your motorcycle whenever you want. Not being able to run or dance or climb a—”
“I don’t dance.” He is still not getting it. “Lily, I’ve spent the last three years crazy over you. I don’t want to let this chance slip away. Especially not now that I’ve seen what things could be like with us.”
Aaargh! He’s being obtuse. “What about your mom?” I ask. “Who would go to the grocery store for her or take out her trash or fix her junker car when she’s late for work?” All things I know Quince has done. Guess I have been paying attention.
