Josh’s parents hadn’t exactly been warm and inviting. Chloe had done her best to make a good first impression, but she could practically feel Mr. and Mrs. Houser scowling at her from the living room window as she and Josh pedaled out of the driveway.
“Are you sure your parents are cool with you leaving?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know. They seemed kind of mad.”
“They just want to make sure I get my workouts in. But I lifted this morning. And as long as I’m back in time to do intervals before dark, it’s all good. If I can do two-a-day dry land workouts till the pool opens again, I’ll actually be in good shape.”
It definitely didn’t sound like he was planning for the zombie apocalypse. Or any kind of apocalypse.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
“What do you think is going on? Like, with everything?”
The knot of anxiety in Chloe’s stomach quivered in anticipation of his answer.
“I dunno. It’s weird. That whole, like . . . what’d Tucker call it yesterday?”
“A glitch in the simulation?”
“Yeah. That seems like bullshit. Some people are saying it’s terrorists? But my parents think it’s the Democrats.”
“What the hell?”
“Yeah. Like, they think they staged the whole thing so they can use it to grab power. ’Cause it’s the only way they can make socialism work.”
Chloe’s anxiety spiked as the likelihood of her staying at Josh’s plummeted nearly to zero.
Ohmygod! His parents are nuts.
Is he nuts, too?
“That is seriously insane,” she told him.
“I know, right?” Josh agreed. “So insane.”
Thank God. It’s not him. It’s just the parents.
“Hang on a sec.” As they reached the corner of Baker and Violet, Josh pulled over to stand with a foot on the curb while he adjusted the straps of Chloe’s backpack. He’d insisted on carrying it for her. Chloe had offered a weak protest, but she secretly appreciated the chivalry.
“You okay? I can carry it.”
“No! It’s easy. I just gotta shorten the straps. Why are you carrying all this stuff, anyway?”
Because I thought I might move in with your family? Except your parents are nuts and they hate me?
“Just to be ready for anything. Like, what if we actually played the semi today?”
She tried not to sound as anxious as she felt. The knot of anxiety in her gut was threatening to turn into a black hole.
“Why wouldn’t you play it?”
“Because it’s all the way over in Rumson. Like, how are we going to get there?”
“But didn’t you hear? Cars actually still work if they’re really old.”
“They do?” This was news to Chloe.
“Yeah. My mom saw one drive through town yesterday. And I don’t know about Lincolnwood? But back at my old school, the buses we took to swim meets were old as shit. So the school district’s probably got, like, a beater van or something they can use to get you there.”
“I hope so.” Chloe felt a welcome flutter of optimism.
“It’ll all be good. You’ll see.”
He smiled at her with those killer eyes.
Ohmygod.
He’s amazing.
Josh reached out with one of his powerful hands and drew her to him in an openmouthed kiss.
Except he smells bad.
His breath wasn’t great, and his body was worse—he was giving off the vinegary odor of someone who’d gone for a run last night, lifted weights this morning, and hadn’t showered after either workout.
Which, as far as she could tell, was true. When Josh broke the clinch, Chloe was relieved in spite of herself.
“So where do you want to go?” she asked. “Brody’s?”
“Actually . . .” His smile widened. “I think I got a better idea.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
He started up the street. Chloe pedaled after him, doing her best to feed the fragile optimism that was rising up to battle her dread, and hopeful that whatever mystery destination Josh had in mind would include a working shower.