“Sorry, bro.” A group of drunk guys has stumbled behind me, crowding to play some ring toss game until the guy who bumped into me notices the dunk tank. “Let me at ’em!” he screams, taking a big padded baseball from the game attendant.

I can’t let Ross do this. If that guy hits the target, Ross will fall into that tank and transform for the world to see. I don’t care if most think it’s a hashtag. It’s too close to the end of Ross’s Journey for them to risk anything going wrong and preventing them from getting home.

I push my way to the side of the tank. “Ross, what are you doing?”

Ross looks down from their rusty metal seat. They’re wearing my Shoreline Dolphins sweatshirt, the one I left at the bungalow, that night we had sex and I’d never felt more connected to another person in my life. In such a small stupid way, I think Ross is saying they felt the same way by wearing it, even if it is three sizes too big.

“It’s the love declaration, Sean,” they say. “The big scene. The grand finale. I know we might not have a life together once all this is over, but I couldn’t leave without being open and vulnerable and letting the world see who I am and how I feel.”

“Here I come!” the drunk guy bellows, but he’s so drunk that he’s literally swaying on his feet. He winds up to throw the ball and nearly topples over. There’s no way he’s going to hit the target.

He lets the ball fly.

DING!

The ball lands perfectly in the center of the bull’s-eye. Of course it would.

Splash!

Ross drops into the water. With a flash of orange light, they transform, their tail slamming against the side of the dunk tank.

“Oh shit, check it out! You won a mermaid!” one of the drunk guy’s very drunk friends screams.

Nobody’s freaking out. Instead, everybody pulls out their phones, recording, smiling, cheering. They clearly think it’s a hoax, probably posting it now as the latest entry to #Fishing. But they’re so entertained that more people crowd in front of the tank, pushing me back despite how hard I try to stay up front.

Ross surfaces and drapes their arms over the tank. “I wanted you to be the one to throw that ball, Sean,” they yell over the crowd. “I wanted to transform for you, and tell you completely as I am how you’ve changed my life. I’m so sorry about Bob. I swear nothing happened with them. But the one thing I’m not sorry for is that we met. I’m not sorry that I love you.”

People turn and point their cameras at me, clearly thinking this is all some elaborate love setup, and they’re not entirely wrong.