The Pirate and The Mermaid

16: Oh my god

I don't know, that's the only title I could think of. Don't worry, that picture—and all the others found on Pinterest—will go with one of the POVs. I think you can tell which one.

Luna's POV:

Okay, don't panic, don't puff up like a puffer fish, there's just a week and a half left. A week and a half left to succeed in true loves kiss. I know he loves me, our hands have touched—twice—I fell on top of him, we've both felt that jelly fish sting between us. "Just one more time alone with him."
"With who? my brother?" Oh shrimp, I'm still in the kitchen. "Oh nothing, no one, Dylan, I just . . . Can I go get some fresh air?" "Sure, you look like you could use some." "Okay thanks." I've got to be careful about what I'm thinking about. If I say one of my thoughts out loud, my covers blown. I should head to the front of the ship, it's nice and peaceful over there.

"*Sigh*, I needed this." Out in the sun, feeling that sea air, surrounded by nothing but water. Even though our destination is in the middle of the North Atlantic. My home. Where I will return to if he doesn't love me back. But I know he does. "*Sigh*, I'm running out of time."

Peter's POV:

I saw her heading for the front of the ship. I've cleaned enough for today, she could use some company. I went all sneaky like—hiding behind one box after the other—but I still stayed behind one box. It wasn't time to come out yet. "Sigh, I'm running out of time." Running out of time? what's that mean? . . . Oh ya! . . . Oh no, Luna's got a week and a half left. But what is she really here for? She's never told me.

🧜🏻‍♀️time skip🧜🏻‍♀️

Luna's POV:

Captain eyebrows gave me free time the rest of the day, when really, I have nothing more to do. I guess I can go back to the front and admire the sea.

A sunset. That big bright thing in the sky in the morning, you know, that thing you can't look at because you'll burn your eyes out. Well, you can look at it now. It's going down, taking the warm colors—red, orange, and yellow—and replacing them with cool colors—blue, and what looks like could be purple. "It's beautiful, isn't it, Luna." He's still in his pirate outfit, except with no hat on. That messy hair is flowing in the wind. "Yeah it is." "My mother loved coming here to look at the sun, feeling the wind in her face. And sometimes, dad would come, have her stand there were the bowsprit starts—he'd stand behind her on that crate so she wouldn't fall back—he'd put his hands on her waist, and have her open her arms so she can feel like she's flying."
"Wow, and I thought my mom and dads love story was romantic," I said. He didn't say anything, he just went, and stood up on the crate. Oh shrimp, I should have seen this coming. "Do you trust me?" I was a fish frozen in ice. "I won't let you fall, Luna, you have my pirate word." And now his hand was out, un gloved. "Do you trust me?" The sun's getting lower, and that 'pirate word' must mean a lot. ". . . I trust you." I can do this, if I fail and have to leave, I won't get a second chance.