Chapter 6
It’s Tuesday!Taste of Magnolia, here I come! I’m practically walking on air as I skip to my favorite food truck. Cora Delaney is a gift to humanity. I look forward to Tuesdays more than any other day.
Right on schedule, I find Alexi waiting for me on the sidewalk that leads to the parking lot where Taste of Magnolia parks. “About time. I’m staaar-ving.”
“So dramatic.”
Alexi shrugs. “Greeks invented drama. What’d you expect? You know what else Greeks are known for? Eating. We like food. We like giving and receiving food. I would like to receive food. Or give you food. Either way, as long as I get to eat.”
“Uh-oh. Have we reached the point of no return?”
“Yes. My stomach is eating itself. Ava, I love you, but if I don’t eat within the next ten minutes, you’re going to have to call my mother to explain my demise.”
I loop my arm through his muscular one. Alexi may look like a hitman for the mafia, but he’s a muscled-up teddy bear. We made out once when I was tipsy and feeling frisky. I might’ve been drinking, but I was sober enough to realize it was weird. We both agreed right then, while awkwardly wiping spit off our lips, that we are better as friends.
We pass Van, who narrows his eyes on our arms. I can’t help but groan.
“Don’t let that prick get under your skin,” Alexi says.
“I’m not. I haven’t given that pigheaded jerk a single thought.” That’s a lie, but I’ll never admit it.
Alexi shakes his head. “Just don’t get crushed again by some dumbass. I still want to kick that Blake fucker’s ass.”
“Which is unnecessary.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Changing the subject—are you excited for Go Fishing Day?”
Every June eighteenth, the resort throws a grand celebration for National Go Fishing Day. All the mermaids work that day, stationed around the shore and pools. It’s not only the guests who come to fish and swim but also the locals. It’s a big event in Magnolia Bay.
“Yeah. I’ve gotten the alcohol order placed. We should be good.”
After we eat our tacos, Alexi walks me to the employee dressing area. There walks Van. My mind can’t wrap itself around why I’m attracted him.
“He thinks he’s the hottest man walking the planet,” I grumble.
“Surely not the whole planet.”
I smack Alexi’s chest with the back of my hand. I hate how Van is casually walking. Just casually trit-trotting down the sidewalk in the direction of the boats. Which means we’re working together. I’ll be staring at him as my stomach flips anxiously.
Alexi nudges my shoulder with his. “Don’t lie. You like this guy.”
“Attracted to, at most.” I can admit he’s attractive. He’s an attractive man. Anybody with eyes can see that. Like him? Never.
* * *
It’s beendays of simmering tension between Van and I. Hours of me trying to avoid eye contact. Which I can’t do because he’s the stupid photographer! It’s incredibly difficult to avoid eye contact with someone when you have to be looking into the camera that they’re pointing at you. Yet sometimes I feel like he’s capturing more than I’m comfortable with. His eyes burn through the camera lens. When Liam photographs me, my stomach doesn’t tighten. My heart doesn’t quicken its pace. And I don’t find myself tightening my legs together as heat pools between my thighs.
We refuse speaking unless it’s absolute necessary or to insult each other. No matter how much I tell myself that I hate him, I look forward to each time we work together. I’m anxious for it. The worst part is, I like having his eyes on me. Being the center of focus. Those piercing blue eyes watching me. That chiseled, clenched jawline. His strong hands holding the camera firmly. That vein in his arm…
But then he speaks.
“Ready to flip-flop your way back into the water, angelfish?”
Great. A new nickname. This one might be the worst. I’m now a fish.
“Aw, angel? Does that mean you think I’m heaven sent?”
Van chuckles, and I despise how deep and smooth his voice is. “I know you can’t stand the name.”
“Call me whatever you like. It’s cute that you think I care.”
Van walks to stand over me. “When are you going to admit you want me?”
“You’re delusional.”
“The camera doesn’t lie, angelfish.”
Oh no, I’ve been completely transparent. My desire has been written all over my face. Van holds the camera up for me to see the screen. It’s a close-up of my face. I don’t look like a friendly mermaid. The woman staring back at me is a siren. I’ve never felt so sexy and confident in my life. Is that really what I look like? Is that who he sees?
Van takes the camera back and puts it into his satchel. Our eyes connect. My pulse is racing, my body’s temperature rising, and I’ve only ever felt this way once before, when I was first working here. I thought that desire was all a figment of my imagination brought on by the alcohol. I refused to ever get that drunk again.
My tongue slides out and wets my lips, begging for him to kiss me. I need him to touch me. Put all this silly bickering aside and devour me.
Van is only a breath away from my lips. “Sorry, not interested in fishy pussy.”