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She seemed to fidget as she leaned against her desk, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looked down at the floor. Likeshe felt insecure about something, but I couldn’t possibly imagine what.

Another student raised their hand, and she pointed at them.

“Is it true that Mr. Sharp, the Ursa Mastery teacher—and your husband—imprinted on you?” asked a girl I didn’t know.

Mrs. Sharp’s cheeks reddened instantly, and suddenly, her seeming insecurity made sense.

“Yes, he did imprint on me,” she replied.

“So, shifters can imprint on humans, too, not just other shifters?” another boy asked.

“It appears that way,” Mrs. Sharp replied. “Our case was the first one to be extensively studied with modern medical techniques. Since then, only a small few other couples have come forth with claims of imprinting, and only a fraction of those proved to be actual cases.

“The truth is, we don’t know why someone will imprint on another person. It could be that their pheromones have a similar chemical structure or that their DNA promises the best match for optimal offspring. Or it could be completely random. We just don’t know.” She shrugged.

I typed all of this down. The topic was fascinating, but honestly, I hoped I never imprint on anyone. What if you fell head over heels for someone who was already in a loving relationship with someone else? Or they didn’t find you attractive at all? Or they hate you for whatever reason?

From the lecture, it sounded like imprinting was one way, and I couldn’t imagine anything more pitiful than physically needing to be around someone for the rest of your life that could never love you back. I had enough problems with boys at the moment.

The bell rang, and students began closing their tablets and shoving them into their bags.

“Okay, that’s it for today. Your assignment for the next two weeks is a ten-page essay on a shifter couple from history that you think shared an imprint and why,” Mrs. Sharp announced, inspiring a collective groan from the students, especially me. I didn’t know of any famous shifter couples in history, so I had my research cut out for me.

My other classes passed in a blur as my own obsessive thoughts over Tobias and Kendall continued to plague me. I was so relieved for lunch, for the chance to get out of my head.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Ashlyn asked as we walked back to the main building.

“Oh, uh, just how terrible I am at being a mermaid,” I lied quickly. “Mastery this morning was an epic fail. I can’t make water do anything—aside from splash as I flail around hopelessly in it.”

That part wasn’t a lie. Thanks to a particular dragon asshole, Mastery had been a futile effort, and I presumed it would be for the foreseeable future. As connected to the water as I felt when I was swimming in it, water apparently did not feel the same way about me. Unrequited feelings seemed to be the theme of the day.

We reached the main building, and Ashlyn held open the door for me. “Eh, don’t beat yourself up about it too much. I’m pretty terrible at being a phoenix. I can’t control the fire inside me worth a damn. At least you can transform. I still haven’t been able to do that yet.”

“But I can only transform as a reaction to salt water,” I corrected as we walked into the Grand Hall. “I can’t shift at will, either.”

“And that, my friend, is why we’re the perfect match.” Ashlyn winked.

“The fish out of water and the featherless fire girl,” I summarized.

We both laughed and got in line for the buffet station.

After we got our food, I scanned the tables for a pair of empty seats. I caught sight of Kendall waving us over to his table, which was occupied by a few of his mer friends.

I gave a half-smile in reply. While I appreciated his invitation, the last thing I wanted right now was to interact with a bunch of mermaids who hated my guts.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, didn’t share the same dilemma, and eagerly went to his table. I reluctantly followed, having no other choice.

“Hi, ladies,” Kendall greeted as we sat down.

Lenore and Helena took one look at me and stood up, Lenore slapping Trevor’s shoulder for him to follow.

“I’m still eating,” he said through a mouthful, shrugging her off.

Lenore narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, a “traitor” accusation in her glare. Then she and Helena walked away.

Trevor gave me a curt nod and continued to eat his food. I was grateful that at least one of Kendall’s friends didn’t hate me, or at least not enough to interrupt his meal.

“Sorry,” Kendall said. “They’ll come around. Just give them time.”