Page 8 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

6

Morgana

A nagging feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I walked to work, a nervous excitement that I couldn’t swallow or keep at bay.

I had taken some care in selecting my outfit. Skye said the trick of first dates was to “put a lot of effort into looking effortless.” I wasn’t planning on following her entire dating rulebook—I wasn’t even sure if it was a date. Yet, my usually wild curls were straight and sleek this morning. They stuck to my glossed lips and tickled my cheeks in the wind. I had chosen black jeans and a tight white T-shirt to look acceptable at work. Then, I’d thrown my grandmother’s fur coat over the entire outfit. I nestled my pink fingers deep within the pockets to avoid the cold.

The opulent houses crowding the bay’s right fist were burrowed artfully into the small strip of land between the open ocean and the harbor. I imagined the views from them held nothing but the waves.

Finn had mentioned he wouldn’t be in today. Was he up there somewhere, watching me from high above?

Warmth spread across my cheeks, and I pretended to admire the whole bay, focusing on the boats bobbing in the mooring area before me. The name of the only yacht caught my attention, “Parker’s Wet Lass” traced down the side in red script.

I snorted. I did not doubt this was Skye’s boyfriend’s yacht.

“Nervous?” Skye asked gleefully when I arrived at Celtic Keepsakes. She was leaning against the glass as Finn had done the day before.

“A little,” I confessed, rattling the store door open.

“Because you know what ‘Netflix and chill’ means. In boy language, that is code for ‘I want to rip your clothes off,’ and you’re meant to understand that.” She followed me inside. I wondered if she ever operated the tartan store.

I was kind of over Skye’s constant desire to impart the wisdom she had gained from being five years my senior, but I knew she meant well.

When Finn invited me, he had seemed sincere and serious. Now, I pictured him giving me a knowing nod and a little half wink as he said, “Watch Netflix.”

“I’m sure there isn’t a code.” I twisted my fingers together, which I only did when I was anxious.

“I learned it the hard way. Google it!” Skye giggled, her dark curls bobbing in unison.

Despite myself, I plucked my iPhone from my pocket and opened the browser.

“ Netflix and chill is a slang term used as a euphemism for sexual activity . . .” I read aloud.

Oh, fuck. My stomach dropped as I slid my phone back into my jeans pocket.

“See!” Skye’s brown eyes were wide with glee.

“He doesn’t even have Netflix back on his estate! So I’m sure he is unfamiliar with using it as a euphemism.” I tried to think back to Finn’s invitation again.

“It’s all the same thing.” Skye stared at me momentarily, clearly trying to come up with another question or something else to say. Finally, she added, “If he wants to ‘watch a movie’ with you, he wants to sleep with you. Period.” She did a little twirl, like a lawyer who had just delivered a victorious closing statement.

“I’m not sure I’m ready . . .”

My chest tightened, and I was back in the bushes at the prom after-party as Asher pushed me down. His arousal washed over me. It was suffocating. I had wanted this, hadn’t I? I had kissed him and consented to being led into the bushes, but now that we were there, his emotions were too strong. Before I knew what I was doing, I had thrown him from me and raced away. I could still hear him muttering “You crazy bitch” as I fled the scene.

“But you like him!” Skye pouted. Perhaps, even though she went for guys like Parker, she held a secret candle for dark and mysterious men like Finn. The thought made me smile. Skye took it the wrong way. “I knew it! I knew you wanted to.”

“I guess I do a bit,” I admitted, thinking of how Finn made me feel. “But I will lose my virginity when I am ready, not when you tell me to, and especially not when a boy tells me to.”

That was it: my nervous excitement had officially transformed into nausea.

Skye lifted her chin in thought. “I’ll help you. I’m an expert.” She was only hearing what she wanted to hear.

“Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I know nothing. And shouldn’t you go open your store?”

She clomped back past my front window to the tartan store. Her practiced calves never faltered in her brown knee-length suede skirt and boots.

I counted the contents of the register and wiped down the glass around the counter. Outside, a seagull cawed aimlessly. It was as though this center was a place of waste: I wasted my life while the gull wasted its breath. Perhaps Skye was right. I should just do it .

I rapped on her window, and she emerged, clutching a pink handbag in her long-nailed hands.

“So, what’s the plan then?” I asked, pulling my fur coat around me. It seemed colder than usual this morning, but perhaps it was my nerves.

Skye paused, rifling through her bag until she found a silver flask. “It’s simple. Go in there, remove your clothes, and rock his world.”

My gut twisted. It wasn’t the act itself that made me uneasy. It was the thought of doing it with him; his presence made me nervous enough.

“Take this.” She shoved the flask toward me.

“I’ve already done the drunken dalliances thing,” I said, thinking again of Asher. I unscrewed the lid and sniffed. “Ugh. Scotch? Are you trying to turn me into a crazy woman?”

“It was all I could find in Parker’s cabinet.” She spun around excitedly. She was a whirlwind of movement—I wished I had half her energy.

“I think the real question is why you have this ?” I rattled the flask at her.

“I—ah, well.” She flushed and looked at her feet. “Sometimes, when Parker goes out and doesn’t reply to my messages, I can’t sleep, so I take a swig.” She was finally still, as if awaiting my judgment.

“Skye . . .” I let out a long breath.

“Please, let’s just drop it.” Her expression changed, and sadness seeped out, but she quickly changed the subject. “I know you’re all into the red wine, but drink this before you go, and I promise you won’t be nervous.” Her excitement had returned, and she looked at me like a merchant promising this snake oil could heal my incurable disease.

Asher swam into my mind again, how aggressive he’d been as he pawed my body. The alcohol hadn’t worked to diffuse his emotions, or mine. Afterward, he had told the rest of the class that I’d attacked him. “That’s what you get for trying to get it on with Mad Morgana,” the other boys had guffawed.

Skye was still staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to agree to “the plan.” She was really terrible at giving dating advice, but I didn’t want her to be crestfallen.

“Thanks, I guess.” I tilted my head and made a show of tucking the flask inside my fur coat pocket.

“Just tell me everything tomorrow!” She clasped her hands together before twirling on her heels.

“What’s with Parker’s Wet Lass?” I called after her.

She turned in the doorway, clutching her little pink bag in her acrylic-nailed hands.

We both burst into hysterics.

“That stupid boat.” Skye wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Did he name it after you?”

“Aye, he says that he did, but I have a sneaking suspicion he says that to all the girls.”