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JENNA
That night I go to bed without dinner.
I tried to pretend everything was normal, that we hadn’t been held at gunpoint. I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me when Carter stalked out of the apartment without so much as a backward glance at me. I tried to pretend his mom hadn’t cut me off when I tried to go after him.
Giving myself a pedicure hadn’t fixed anything. Neither had the useless banter I tossed about with Reed and Eric while they made brownies on the barbecue.
All in all, the day left me feeling like I’d been fed to a wood chipper. Tired of pretending, I went to bed after Carter and his mom got back from working on Skip. Kate kept sneaking glances at me, but looked away anytime I caught her looking.
I always marveled at the way Carter talked about his mom. It was evident they got along and had a good relationship, even if she had gone over the deep end when his dad died. I can’t fathom getting along with my mom, even though I secretly miss her and my sisters. I hope they’re safe.
I lie in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. With the streetlights outside having gone out when we lost electricity, there’s little ambient light in the room. The blackness suits my mood.
When the door opens, I spot the tall, unmistakable silhouette of Carter. He’s a lean smudge against the surrounding gloom of the tiny room.
“Hey, babe,” he says quietly.
I don’t answer right away, trying to decide if I want to pretend to be asleep.
“Hey,” I say at last.
The side of the bed dips as he sits down next to me. “Sorry I stormed out earlier.”
His apology chips away at the resentment that’s built in me all evening. “You okay?” I ask. “What your mom did ... I know it upset you.”
His laugh is toneless. “It’s not every day you see your mom kill two men in front of you.”
“It’s not every day you’re held at gunpoint by drug dealers during a zombie apocalypse.”
His hand, warm and strong, finds mine. “We’ve all been through a lot today. I shouldn’t have stormed off and left you. I’m sorry.”
And just like that, all my resentment slides away. I lace my fingers through his. “It’s okay.”
When he leans down to press a kiss to my lips, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down. He sinks onto the bed beside me, pulling me tight against him. I burrow my head against his chest, feeling better than I’ve felt all day.
“How did things go with your mom?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “She’s different,” he says at last. “She was so ... fragile after Dad died. She isn’t fragile anymore.”
The woman I saw outside today is definitely not fragile. Scary, yes. Tough, yes. Crazy, most definitely. But not fragile.
“I told her I was worried about her getting arrested when the dust settles,” Carter continues. “She shrugged it off and said she’d deal with it when the time came.”
Once again, I find myself at a crossroads with Carter. He thinks the world is going to fix itself. Even with evidence to the contrary all around us—not the least being our experience today—he keeps burying his head in the sand.
A knot of frustration forms in my chest. I do my best to ignore it, not wanting to fight. Instead, I concentrate on the comforting feel of his arms around me.
“Sounds like a reasonable plan to me,” I say. “There’s plenty of other things to worry about right now.” Like clearing all the other rooms in Creekside and organizing the food, but I don’t say this to Carter.
He sighs. “You’re right. We can worry about it if it happens.”
I don’t want to think about tomorrow or the future. I don’t want to think about today. All I want is Carter.
Instead of answering, I twist my head, find his mouth, and kiss him. His warm hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt and grips my waist. I don’t resist when he pulls off my shirt and unclips my bra.
There’s barely any light, but even so, I feel his eyes rove over me. I know all too well what he sees. Large breasts. A trim waist, flat stomach, and round hips. They’re the parts most boys see when they look at me. Combined with my long legs, I’ve been compared to a Victoria’s Secret model since I was fourteen years old.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs against my skin.
When he touches me, I feel cherished. Carter’s the only boy who doesn’t treat me like an object or a trophy. Even so, the compliment makes me stiffen. A lifetime of programming can’t be wiped away, not even in six blissful months of dating the sweetest guy on the planet.
He absorbs my silence like he always does. I sense the conflict it stirs within him and wish I could get my ass in line and act like a normal girl. I should say thanks. I should tell him how much I love his blue eyes and his smile. Returning a compliment is normal couple stuff.
Words refuse to form on my tongue, lodging instead in my throat.
“I have something from our scavenging mission today.” I feel his grin against my face. He’s trying to lighten the mood for my sake.
I nip playfully at his ear, grateful for his understanding. “What do you have?”
He reaches into his pocket and tosses a few crinkly wrappers between us. I laugh as pale green squares materialize in front of me, their shape unmistakable.
“Really?” I ask. “You got glow-in-the-dark condoms?”
“It’s not like we have television anymore,” he replies. “We need something to entertain us.”
I fall laughing in his arms. “You, Carter Stephenson, were always more entertaining than television.”
Someday, I have to tell him how much I care about him. Someday.
But not tonight.