there were a lot of mountains around Eastcove.
We went to Tor’s assigned section, red flag number 31. “Don’t mind if I watch, do you?” I said, laying a towel down on the sand.
He smiled knowingly. “Actually, it would help me a lot if you do.”
Like a muse? I was happy to be Tor’s muse and I meant to enjoy my close up view of Tor while he was at it. I wished he’d take off his shirt so I could admire his six-pack and his tattoos but I knew he wouldn’t do that. I felt like merfolk VIP—honored to have had the pleasure of seeing Tor up close.
I shimmied my butt in the sand, getting comfortable. I wore denim shorts and a sea green ribbed tank top. My hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and I had large tortoise shelled rimmed sunglasses on my face. A seashell bracelet dangled from my wrist.
I dug in my beach bag for my sunscreen. Ever since my legs had started erupting I’d been keen to keep the sun’s rays from adding damage. A trip to the doctor’s office didn’t really shed any light on the problem. Dr. Brown had said it wasn’t textbook eczema but gave me a prescription for it anyway.
I waved to Samara and Becca who were close by, red flag number 37. “Good luck,” I shouted.
I leaned back and turned my face to the sun. The breeze was cool enough to keep everyone comfortable. I licked the salty mist from the sea off my lips.
Each contestant was provided with a large pail of water to moisten the sand. I was Tor’s designated water supplier if he got low.
The mayor blew the whistle and sand flew. The contestants had thirty minutes to create their masterpieces.
I was dying to see what Tor had in mind.
Tor dug like mad, shaping the sand into a long slug-like mold. I wondered if I’d overestimated his artistic abilities. I glanced around at the competition. Becca and Samara were forming what looked like a turtle. I saw several castles sprout up and Colby and Tiffany were building something tall.
Tor piled sand on top of one end of the slug, so it looked like an “L” on its side, with the short side sticking up.
“What are you making?” I asked.
He didn’t stop to look at me. “You’ll see.”
He shaped the top bit now and I could tell it was a head. He worked masterfully, a nose and mouth and sunglasses over the eyes. He ran his fingers through the sand until it became a long mass of wavy hair down the back.
I sat up straight, squinting. I took off my glasses and compared them. Tor shaped the torso, modestly creating a ribbed tank top over the bosom and I felt myself blush. When he fashioned a seashell bracelet over one arm I was certain.
He was sculpting me!
“You’ll never win with that,” I said.
“I don’t care about winning.”
Oh, man. I was crazy about this guy! I did my best model at the beach pose with my legs, hoping to help him out a bit.
But he did something different with the legs.
In fact they weren’t legs at all.
“You’re making me a mermaid?” I swallowed. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or offended. Was this what Tor really wanted? Something I could never give him?
Tor stopped and studied me. “Should I not? I can change it.”
I was being silly. “No, that’s okay. I like it.”
Tor went back to work. I was in awe at his detail. I took a good look at the tail; the scales and muscle pattern were perfect in their detail.
He went back to working on the face and I was amazed at how much it actually looked like me. Only more beautiful.
“I think you’re very beautiful,” Tor said.
What? How did he do that?
“You are beautiful to me, Dori. With or without a tail.”
All I wanted to do now was a lot of PDA, but I restrained myself from throwing myself at him.
The whistle blew and everyone stopped. The winner would be announced later on, just before the fireworks.
“Wow.” I couldn’t stop saying it. I might not be a sand sculpture judge, and I wasn’t saying this because it was supposed to look like me, but Tor’s
We went to Tor’s assigned section, red flag number 31. “Don’t mind if I watch, do you?” I said, laying a towel down on the sand.
He smiled knowingly. “Actually, it would help me a lot if you do.”
Like a muse? I was happy to be Tor’s muse and I meant to enjoy my close up view of Tor while he was at it. I wished he’d take off his shirt so I could admire his six-pack and his tattoos but I knew he wouldn’t do that. I felt like merfolk VIP—honored to have had the pleasure of seeing Tor up close.
I shimmied my butt in the sand, getting comfortable. I wore denim shorts and a sea green ribbed tank top. My hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and I had large tortoise shelled rimmed sunglasses on my face. A seashell bracelet dangled from my wrist.
I dug in my beach bag for my sunscreen. Ever since my legs had started erupting I’d been keen to keep the sun’s rays from adding damage. A trip to the doctor’s office didn’t really shed any light on the problem. Dr. Brown had said it wasn’t textbook eczema but gave me a prescription for it anyway.
I waved to Samara and Becca who were close by, red flag number 37. “Good luck,” I shouted.
I leaned back and turned my face to the sun. The breeze was cool enough to keep everyone comfortable. I licked the salty mist from the sea off my lips.
Each contestant was provided with a large pail of water to moisten the sand. I was Tor’s designated water supplier if he got low.
The mayor blew the whistle and sand flew. The contestants had thirty minutes to create their masterpieces.
I was dying to see what Tor had in mind.
Tor dug like mad, shaping the sand into a long slug-like mold. I wondered if I’d overestimated his artistic abilities. I glanced around at the competition. Becca and Samara were forming what looked like a turtle. I saw several castles sprout up and Colby and Tiffany were building something tall.
Tor piled sand on top of one end of the slug, so it looked like an “L” on its side, with the short side sticking up.
“What are you making?” I asked.
He didn’t stop to look at me. “You’ll see.”
He shaped the top bit now and I could tell it was a head. He worked masterfully, a nose and mouth and sunglasses over the eyes. He ran his fingers through the sand until it became a long mass of wavy hair down the back.
I sat up straight, squinting. I took off my glasses and compared them. Tor shaped the torso, modestly creating a ribbed tank top over the bosom and I felt myself blush. When he fashioned a seashell bracelet over one arm I was certain.
He was sculpting me!
“You’ll never win with that,” I said.
“I don’t care about winning.”
Oh, man. I was crazy about this guy! I did my best model at the beach pose with my legs, hoping to help him out a bit.
But he did something different with the legs.
In fact they weren’t legs at all.
“You’re making me a mermaid?” I swallowed. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or offended. Was this what Tor really wanted? Something I could never give him?
Tor stopped and studied me. “Should I not? I can change it.”
I was being silly. “No, that’s okay. I like it.”
Tor went back to work. I was in awe at his detail. I took a good look at the tail; the scales and muscle pattern were perfect in their detail.
He went back to working on the face and I was amazed at how much it actually looked like me. Only more beautiful.
“I think you’re very beautiful,” Tor said.
What? How did he do that?
“You are beautiful to me, Dori. With or without a tail.”
All I wanted to do now was a lot of PDA, but I restrained myself from throwing myself at him.
The whistle blew and everyone stopped. The winner would be announced later on, just before the fireworks.
“Wow.” I couldn’t stop saying it. I might not be a sand sculpture judge, and I wasn’t saying this because it was supposed to look like me, but Tor’s
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