Page 41 of Female Fantasy
“Guinn,” Ryke says, his tone a warning.
“She is not mer,” Guinn continues. “No, not at all. Can you not smell it on her?”
Her nose scrunches as she sniffs the water around me.
“Tell me, human. How did you come to be below the ocean floor?”
Chapter Nine
The first thing Clarisse and Thomas do is place brown paper bags over our heads.
Next, they tie our wrists with what feels like a thick, coarse rope—softer than fisherman’s rope but rougher than a jump rope. I feel Nico struggle against his restraints next to me, flailing around like a dying fish.
I, on the other hand, choose to sit still, taking this time in the dark to recalibrate and calculate my next move. An unexpected wave of calm washes over me, as if I’ve been in this situation many times. Strange, considering the worst crime I’ve ever committed is stealing a Juicy Tubes lip gloss from the mall as a middle schooler in order to feel alive. And I felt so guilty afterward that I went back the next day and returned it. But now that I’ve essentially been “taken,” it’s almost like some deeply buried reflexes have kicked in. I have settled into the comfort of muscle memory.
Bizarre.
“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Nico whispers to me, his words muffled by the flimsy layers of paper separating us.
I shake my head, then cringe. Nico obviously can’t see me. Idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead.
Nico inhales sharply, incredulous. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You didn’t kidnap us.”
“No,” I agree. “But I did get into this car even when you clearly didn’t want me to. You knew it was a bad idea. We’re in this mess because of me.”
Nico is silent. For a minute, I wonder if he has fainted due to the stress.
“Joonie,” he finally says. “You’re not responsible for the bad actions of others. You know that, right?”
“I know,” I breathe.
But do I?
I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like I had to overcompensate. To make up for the way others saw me. To be the best kind of Middle Eastern American—white passing and well behaved, always the optimist—to accommodate my peers. To devote myself to the romance genre even after the romantic leads in my own life turned on me, broke my heart and my spirit in so many ways. I even posture to Nico to show him how little I need him after he disappointed me. I rarely do anything just for myself, simply because I want to. I’m always trying to prove something to someone.
To get rid of this knot in my stomach telling me that if I end up alone and miserable, it will be all my fault.
Maybe that’s why this trip to New York is so important to me. In a way, this is me attempting to choose myself.
Or at least it was.
I clear my throat, my airways clogging with unshed tears.
In the front seat, Clarisse and Tom are laughing, shouting the lyrics of a rock song I don’t recognize. The car is cutting through the air with ease, accelerating as if it’s packed with jet fuel. The police scanner hasn’t come on again, but static blares from the radio every so often, threatening to deafen us.
“What do you want?” Nico calls out. “You said you were here to collect. So do it. Looking for money? I have some cash in my wallet. Let me pay you and let us go.”
Clarisse clicks her tongue. “After you tried to call the pigs? So you can run off to the nearest station and ID us? I don’t think so, baby. We’ll take that sweet piece on your wrist, though. All in due time. You just sit tight and wait for Harry.”
I feel Nico’s body start to shake, causing the seat beneath us to vibrate.
He’s panicking. And I don’t blame him. This is objectively scary as fuck.
But he’s losing his cool, and quickly. This is where his pessimism really has the potential to slow down our escape.
Me, though? I’m getting out of this alive. I have a date with destiny. I can’t allow myself to think of any other outcome.
