“Unfuck—” I bit my lip. Nessa nodded, goading me to continue. “Unfuckwithable,” I said, louder this time but still soft enough that the rest of the bar wouldn’t hear me. “A positive energy manifestation candle for your inner bad bitch.”
I'd never said so many swear words in one breath before.
“Smell it,” Nessa said.
I brought it to my nose and took a whiff.
Sweet Mary’s Molasses.
It smelled like the first days of summer. Like cool, crisp air after an unexpected sun shower, with a hint of hand-churned ice cream. Lemon. No, lemonade. With a spot of moonshine. It smelled like sex. Not sweaty, bedroom sex, but “our picnicturned to rolling around in the meadow and rinsing off in the creek” kind of sex. Not that I had any firsthand experience with that, but a girl could dream.
“Judging by the sounds you’re making, I’m gonna guess you like it?” Nessa asked.
I opened my eyes—I didn’t even realize I’d shut them—to find them both staring back at me, utterly amused.Oh lord.Had I made noises, too? I slapped the hand not cradling the lemonade sex candle over my mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” I said from behind my palm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not,” June muttered. “That was pretty hot.”
My cheeks flamed.
“But honestly, it’s been so long since I got laid that literally just the idea ofsomebody elsehaving sex is enough to set me off.”
“Same,” Nessa added.
“Yeah, but unlike you, I’m not on some self-imposed sex ban.”
“It’s a sexcleanse, thank you very much.”
My eyes ping-ponged back and forth between the two of them. They bickered like siblings, and I would know. To this day, my sister was theonlyperson I spoke openly-ish with about sex. And even then, we generally kept it fairly PG-13—blame it on two decades of purity culture in the Deep South.
“Clarke, please tell Nessa that sex isn’t supposed tocleanseyou.”Hells bells.I could already tell this was heading down a dangerous path. “It should be dirty, sweaty, and full of fluids.”
“Clarke,” Nessa said, smiling sweetly. I knew from firsthand experience that the sweeter the smile, the more deadly the venom. “Please tell June that my body is a temple. Only I control what—or who—comes inside, and right now, I’m exorcising some bad spirits out of it.”
I took another sip of my drink. Surely, they couldn’t expect me to mediate if my mouth was full.
“I didn’t realize your pussy was full of demons.”
I sputtered, trying to contain my gasp? Laugh? It didn’t matter because it all came spilling out of my mouth, all over me and the bartop. Before I could even contemplate what had happened, Nero was already there, mopping up my mess with a hand towel.
“Jeez Louise,” I choked, “I’m so sorry, Nero.”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “You think it’s the first time somebody spit up on my bar?” He leaned over the top, rocking forward on his heels and showcasing some fairly detailed tattoo work on his forearms in the process. “Plus, you’re rolling with these two troublemakers now. It’s only a matter of time before you’re dancing on top of it."
"That happened one time," June protested, watching as he walked away.
Nessa flipped off her brother before turning to me. “We should be the ones apologizing. I forget that not everybody is as . . .”
“Crass?” June suggested. “Aggressive? Horny?”
“Open. Not everybody is asopenas we are.”
I pulled the sleeves of my flannel down to cover my hands. Even inside by a roaring fire (which only added to the cozy, cottage-like feel of the tavern), I was freezing.
“It’s okay,” I told them. “I’m just not used to it. Things are a little less . . . progressive in South Carolina. Heck, my mama and daddy never even gave us the birds and the bees talk. Everything I know about sex I learned from back issues ofCosmo, Tumblr clips, and my sister, Viv. And she’s a lesbian.”
“Bisexual,” Nessa said, raising her hand.
