Page 13 of Unmoored

And we both know I don’t mean the island at all. He chuckles silently, his nostrils flaring as his lips curve up. My voice creaks as I giggle, too. We share a smile—bashful, excited, nervous—and then Murph nods up toward the dock, and I nod, too.

Our footfalls echoing on the planks, we walk up from the floating part of the wharf to the stranded sections, section tilted to one side or the other like an obstacle course.

I’d run it ten times over, just to get another smile like that. I forgot I could feel like this, which means today is already going better than I could have even dreamed of.

And something tells me we’re only just getting started.

ChapterFour

EDEN

“So,those are basically public parking spaces, right?” I ask as we climb up the ramp toward real dry land.

The railing is metal, hot in the sun, so I’m relying on the terrifyingly sharp-looking little circles punched into the ramp to keep me upright.

Murph grunts, and then he glances over at me. “You weren’t joking about being new to boats.”

“It’s okay, I learn fast.”

The first-date nerves are alive in the air between us, but it feels strangely nice. It’s nice that there’s finally something important—or potentially important—on the line.

“Dry land,” I breathe out as Murph leads me to the top of the wharf. He heads onto the gravel path, but I pause after that first step to lean against the notice board next to me. “Why does it feel so…?”

I don’t even know how to describe it, so I trail off and gesture at the ground.

Recognition sparks in Murph’s eyes. He nods. “Congratulations. You’re starting to get your sea legs, little mermaid.” I laugh and shove him, though he seems to notice it more than actually feeling it. “Big merman?”

“No, I’ll be the mermaid. And someone has to be the sailor.” I wink up at Murph. “If all the stories are true, anyway.”

Murph clears his throat and hastily glances away, scratching his neck. “Well, then. Feel good being back on land?”

I frown as I try to figure out the answer. It feels so… solid, so unmoving. Like I’ve forgotten how gravity works and if I step wrong, I might just stomp a hole through the earth.

“Weird, but good,” I decide. “Right. Okay. Let’s go. Where’s this coffee shop?”

“This way.”

Murph leads me up a path toward the gravel road, and there’s nothing but the simmering tension and sound of our footsteps crunching.

Every time I steal a glance at Murph, the sparks between us flash a little bit hotter. I’m pretty sure he’s sneaking looks at me exactly the same way. After the constant noise of the outboard motor, I hardly know how to fill this silence.

Luckily, we’re emerging from the trees into a parking lot like nothing I’ve ever seen.

“What the shit?”

There are rows and rows of golf carts.

The only time I’ve ever seen so many golf carts is at George’s dad’s fancy country club. It always felt like the rows of sleek, identical, highly-polished golf carts were judging me. But here, the majority of the golf carts here are painted in bright, gaudy colours. There are even rusty, beaten-up three-wheelers with tiny trailers.

“There’s only one car on Sunrise Island. Ladybird,” Murph says like it’s perfectly normal. “Everyone here drives a golf cart.”

I slowly shake my head. “Okay, I definitely need that coffee to process this. Where—” I cut myself off. I see a row of storefronts, and a hand-painted sign that just says “coffee”.

“There,” Murph says, unnecessarily.

I laugh. “Right. Okay. Iprobablywouldn’t have gotten lost.”

“Mmm,” he hums, looking perfectly innocent as I pretend to glare at him.

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