Pretty in Pearls: A Forgive My Fins Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) (13 page)

Their voices trail off, and Quince and I are left in the quiet of an empty bathroom. Still, he doesn’t release me.

Maybe he’s mad at what she said about his boots.

Though for the life of me I can’t figure out why, I feel compelled to make him feel better. “Your boots aren’t
that
bad. You know she thought you were Em—”

Before I can finish, he bursts out laughing, nearly shaking me off his lap and onto the disgusting bathroom floor.

“Wha—” I squeal as I slide off to the left.

His arms tighten around me, securing me in place. After a few more seconds of holding on for dear life while Quince indulges in some seriously rumbling laughter against my back, he finally releases me and helps me stand.

“Sorry, princess,” he says, still sitting on the toilet. “That was just too damn funny.”

Twisting around in the tight space, I glare at him. “Well, I’m glad you found humor in your humiliation. I don’t happen to enjoy being ridiculed and—”

“Aw, come on,” he teases, an annoyingly bright grin shining on his tan face. He’s got one of those strong faces that completely transform with a smile. Dark and foreboding one second, fun and playful the next. “Couldn’t you see through her?”

I must look confused, which I am, because he explains, “She’s jealous.”

“Right,” I say, thinking back to the cafeteria. “I’m plucking Brody right out from under her perfectly sculpted nose.”

Squeezing up against one wall, I try to open the stall door. I need to escape, to get out into the open, away from him. Only the stall is so small and Quince takes up so much space that I can’t open it while he’s sitting on the toilet.

“Stand up.”

He complies but stays in front of the door. Hovering over me, he says, “Hard as it is to believe, I won’t say ‘I told you so’ about the dance.”

As if.

“In fact,” he says, leaning over me to brace his forearm on the wall above my head, “I’m going to help you out.”

At the moment, helping me out would have to include getting out of this bathroom stall. Quince is more than filling my personal space and I’m feeling uncharacteristically claustrophobic. The graffiti-covered walls are closing in. Sweat droplets form on my forehead.

“Let me out,” I demand, ignoring his offer of help. “It stinks in here.”

I give him a look that implies he is the source of the odor, even though he smells like leather and mint toothpaste. He doesn’t get offended like a normal guy would. No, he flashes me that arrogant smile and leans closer. Just when I think he’s going to press his entire body into mine, he scoots sideways, next to the toilet, and out of the way of the door.

Yanking the door open, I burst into the bathroom and take a deep breath of non-Quinced air.

“As I was saying,” he continues when he follows me out of the stall, “I’m going to help you catch your big fish at the dance.”

“But,” I argue as the oxygen returns to my brain, “he doesn’t want—”

“He doesn’t know what he doesn’t want.”

Leaning back against the edge of the sink, I cross my arms over my chest and nod to show I’m listening. Though mostly I’m thinking about how relieved I am to be out of that stall and several feet away from Quince.

“To get Ben”—he clears his throat—“nett’s attention, you need to do something special. Surprising.” He smiles. “Shocking.”

“And what,” I ask, skeptical, “do you suggest?”

He slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, stretching his T-shirt tight across his chest. From a purely objective standpoint, I admit it’s a nicely formed chest. Probably sculpted from all those hours trying to keep his motorcycle running and his part-time job at the lumberyard. And he does have yummy dark blond hair and those great blue eyes that remind me of home. If he weren’t such an obnoxious jerk, Quince might actually be an attractive guy.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, “in the parking lot after school.”

Then, without any explanation, he spins on his biker boots and walks out of the bathroom. What the heck does that mean? I’m still frowning and trying to figure out what just happened—I was
not
admiring his chest!—when he sticks his head back in.

“Want to know why I thought Courtney’s little tirade was so funny?”

I shrug, expecting him to say I’ll find that out after school, too. If I meet him, that is. I don’t expect him to answer.

But Quince is nothing if not unexpected.

“She bought me these boots.”

He flashes me a quick smile, and then he’s gone.

And I have the rest of the day to decide if I can risk accepting his offer of help. In three hours and—I lift my wrist to check the time.

Damselfish!
I’m nearly fifteen minutes late to art. Shannen’s probably worried about me. I take off down the hall, wondering if I’m actually going to meet Quince in the parking lot. Mrs. Ferraro probably hasn’t even noticed I’m not there.

About the Author

T
ERA
L
YNN
C
HILDS
is the award-winning author of several books for teens, including the first two books in the Sweet Venom series, the mermaid romances
Forgive My Fins, Fins Are Forever
, and
Just for Fins
, as well as another mythology-inspired series, including
Oh. My. Gods
. and
Goddess Boot Camp
. Although Tera always dreamed of discovering a secret twin (or triplet), she is sad to report she remains an only child. Find extras—such as excerpts and cool contests—for all of Tera’s books at www.teralynnchilds.com.

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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Text copyright © 2014 by Tera Lynn Childs

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