Page 16 of Skalterra By Nightmare
The early summer sun was still high above the rooftops of the shops that lined Main Street.
“Oh, yeah. It’s positively chilly out. The elements will surely make quick work of my frail, womanly physique.”
He snorted and threw the hoodie over one shoulder while I locked the front door. Jonquil stared at us through the glass, her tail swishing angrily, though I wasn’t sure what for.
Keel Watch Harbor was a quaint town. Iron-wrought street lamps lined the single road that cut parallel to the water, making up Main Street. This time of year, though, as we headed into long summer days, the lamps were seldom lit as the sun shined down on bright rooftops and a humble marina from the early morning until late at night.
I wrinkled my nose as we started down the sidewalk. It must’ve been low tide judging by the sulphuric scent of kelp baking in the sun, but I welcomed the stink. It was so real, so tangible, that it forced Skalterra to the back of my mind.Thiswas reality. Walking in the warm sun and the sea breeze, I knew it had to be.
And as thoughts of Skalterra melted away, I finally found the room in my chest to be just a tiny bit excited about Von Leer.
“You’ll get in, you know,” Liam said. Seagulls cried overhead, and I caught glimpses of the glittering harbor between the bakeries, shops, and restaurants. Many of them had already locked up for the day. I hoped it wasn’t so the owners could go to Siobhan’s.
“Stop,” I said.
“What?”
“Jinxing it!” I waved a dismissive hand at him. “And being nice.”
“You’d rather I be mean?”
“I’d rather you be honest.”
His steps faltered, and I forged ahead, hoping I remembered where Siobhan’s Tavern was located.
“Oh, I can be honest if you like.” Liam recovered with a laugh.
“Please.”
“I think you’re trying to be unlikeable on purpose.”
“And what are you? A psych major?”
“Architecture, actually.”
“I’m not a building, so you can go analyze literally anything else, please.”
He laughed louder this time, though I couldn’t tell if it was at me or with me. Best to err on the side of “at me”. I scowled.
“No?” he teased. “Then what are you?”
I stopped walking to look at him, and I hated that he was several inches taller than me. I would’ve preferred him to be shorter.
“I’m an amalgamation of good grades and participation points in clubs I never cared to join in the first place, all so I could look good on paper for the university that passed on me in the first round.”
“Amalgamation?” He smirked.
“It means combination or a fusion.”
“I know what it means.” There it was again. That infuriating laugh. “I just don’t know why you used it.”
“Because it’s a good word.”
“Spoken like an author’s daughter.”
“I promise, the books my mother writes aren’t using words like ‘amalgamation’.”
I didn’t know that for sure, of course. I hadn’t been allowed to read them until I was eighteen, and even now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what lurked in the pages of Eliza Warrender’s twenty-plus-books-and-counting erotica series.
