Dancing With Daylight (Patreon)

Notes: Part of the $100 reward is that you can request anything from me that you'd like, and my ultimate patron Chie had an amazing idea for a story set in the CDAD universe. They've been generous enough to want to share it with the rest of you :). This is the beginning of Harper and Brooklyn's journey (with some NSFW). Hope you like it!

Dancing With Daylight: Part 1

Run. Move. It was all I could tell myself to keep my feet moving as fast as possible beneath me. All I could focus on to escape the snarls and the hammering footsteps on my tail. There were five of those things chasing after me – at least, five were all I’d seen when they’d popped up from behind the market’s checkout counter. I’d thought the building was clear, and had never expected a group of them to be sleeping behind the counter. Stupid. So goddamn stupid.

I should’ve checked the whole shop, but there was that can of pumpkin pie filling sitting on a shelf and suddenly it was Christmas again. I got too excited. Had grown too complacent and comfortable with how well I’d been doing sneaking around. Stupid. I might never get to open that stupid fucking can and all because I couldn’t wait one more minute to make sure the coast was clear.

Flying down the middle of a small town street in the dark, I constantly scanned left and right, looking for an open door. The ferals were too close for me to take a chance. If I stopped to try a door and it was locked, I was dead. I didn’t have a reliable weapon. The wooden baseball bat I was carrying was on its last leg, ready to break in half the moment I hit something hard enough. It wasn’t even a full-sized baseball bat. It was a foot-long souvenir from an old Dodgers game that was hardly thicker than a bratwurst. God, I was so fucking dead.

But there. There, a few shops past that old movie theater with the paint scaffolding sitting outside, I could see by the light of the full moon that there was a rundown shop with boarded up windows and a door ajar. I was about to push my legs beyond their limits and run to safety, but before I could even pick up speed, my entire progress halted. One of the ferals lunged and caught my backpack, and it was pure instinct that I reacted fast enough to round my shoulders so the backpack fell instead of pulling me off my feet. The bag and the feral hit the ground with a heavy thud, and I stumbled forward to regain my balance.

Run. I should run and I shouldn’t stop because I couldn’t fight, but my bag. That bag was my food and water and leverage and without it I really was dead. I skidded to a halt right as the first feral reached me, and swung my armed hand while I turned. The bat cracked across its skull, and I shot forward directly into the next feral coming at me, crashing into its stomach and taking us both to the ground. I raised both arms, managing to smash my bat once against its head before the next one came flying at me. I lifted my hands as it collided with me, knocking me backward off the raging feral I’d just hit.

I was holding the length of my bat against its neck while it snapped, pressing down on me to get close enough to bite. With all the strength I could get, I pushed my left hand up and over, smashing the end of the bat against its head so it fell off me sideways. I rolled to get on top, hitting it square in the softest part of the temple; my first real kill. But the bat splintered in half, leaving me holding a broken and jagged piece of wood. It was too short to hit anything with it, so when the next feral reached me only a moment later, I jabbed, stabbing it through the eye.

There wasn’t a wasted moment before I lunged for my backpack, dodging the feral that threw itself at me. I grabbed hold of the bag and flipped onto my back as I swung it, smashing it into the side of a feral’s shoulder, sending it toppling to the ground. The next one was already jumping for me, so I brought my knees into my chest to block it, kicking it away from me. Another one was already there, and I barely managed to lift my bag between us before it landed on top of me. My arms locked, using all the strength I had to keep it from bearing down on me, but the other two were coming around again.

I was dead. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and prayed it would be over fast, and that they’d kill me instead of turning me into one of them. But then there was the crack and whiz of an echoing gunshot, so powerful it blasted one of the ferals off its feet. Just as it hit the ground, the bayoneted end of a long rifle pierced through the skull of the second. The person turned toward me, kicking the last feral off me with their boot and then shoving the knife through its heart when it landed on its back.

It was a miracle. I stared upward in shock, unable to say anything as I studied my savior and tried to regain my breath. She was tall and slender, that much I could see in the dark. The ends of her tight jeans were tucked into her military boots and her hooded jacket was a little big for her. If she had hair, it was swaddled up inside her ball cap, and she stared down at me while she slung her sniper rifle back over her shoulder.

“Hi,” I breathed, shutting my eyes tight to calm my racing heart.

“The shot was loud,” she said, her voice sharp and full of irritation, but she sounded young. “You should find somewhere safe before the rest figure out where it came from.” And then her footsteps were walking away.

My eyes shot open, head lifting off the ground to watch her start retreating in the direction I’d been running. She’d saved my life. She had the rifle, and maybe other weapons, and she looked tough from the little more than silhouette I’d seen, and she was exactly what I’d been looking for. She was better than what I’d been looking for. “Hey, wait!” I called, scrambling to my feet and rushing after her. She passed a stern look over at me when I reached her side. “I’m Brooklyn.”

She didn’t look at me again. “Goodbye, Brooklyn.”

“Come on,” I pleaded, grabbing her shoulder to stop her walking. She stopped, but there was an annoyed crease between her eyebrows that let me know she didn’t like being touched like that. I held my hands up, palms facing her in apology. “At least let me say thank you,” I said, dropping my hands and holding one out. “Thank you…?”

She considered it for a long moment before she sighed, “Harper,” and shook my hand.

I grinned. “Thank you for saving my life, Harper.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, turning to start walking again. “Goodbye.”

“Hey, wait,” I protested, “come on, wait!”

“SHH!”

I caught up to her. “Can I come with you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“You don’t know me.”

I jumped in front of her, halting her progress a second time and earning a glare. “I could get to if you talked to me.”

She brushed past me. “Go away.”

“Harper, please,” I whined, trailing after her again, hoping if I used her name it would help. “I don’t have any weapons and no way to protect myself. At least for a little while?” She ignored me. “Haven’t you ever heard that if you save someone’s life, you become responsible for it?”

“No,” she answered dryly.

“Please?”

“NO.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Brooklyn,” she growled, wheeling around on me, and my name felt like a lash rolling off her tongue like that, “you were just brawling bar-fight style with ferals. You’ll get us both killed.”

"I promise I'll be more careful,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows and folding my hands together in plea.

“No. Go away.”

She turned around again and picked up her pace, and I officially started panicking. I could convince her. I’d been hording supplies in my bag and I had things to bargain with. There was no limit to what I’d bargain with if it meant keeping someone around that could protect me. I could convince her if I had more time, if she’d talk to me, but she didn’t want to. It seemed clear that she was at least nice enough to rescue me, but I didn’t know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t do something if I kept irritating her. I didn’t think she’d kill me, not after just saving me, but maybe she’d do something like knock me out so I’d stop following her, and then I’d never get the chance to convince her. I needed more time.

And right as that thought occurred to me, we were passing by the paint scaffolding outside the movie theater. There were a few buckets of paint up on the platform, and the bars that created the frame looked flimsy, and if I made it look like an accident and bumped into it hard enough…

I began to muse, “It’s really dark ou-” and walked straight into the corner bar of the scaffolding before I could even finish, throwing a little extra weight into it. Simply hitting that bar caused a loud ringing to echo through the night, but after so long outside and being subjected to the weather, it was a lot flimsier than I thought. The welded seams of the frame were completely rusted, and the corner I hit broke apart from the rest. The platform that the paint cans were on tilted heavily toward that corner, and the cans slid off with loud clanks and rolled right into the adjacent corner’s bar. That broke too, and the entire tower came crashing down, metal singing and wood thudding in such an unbelievable ruckus that my heart completely sank.

Harper had frozen in her tracks with her back to me, but at the noise her head fell backward so she could snarl a frustrated groan toward the stars. There was a series of distant and almost inhuman roars in response, and it hadn’t been my intention to wake up every feral in this small town, but I just might have.

It was good that I knew exactly where we needed to go. “Run,” I said, taking off and grabbing Harper’s hand as I passed her.

I dragged her at a sprint toward that rundown shop’s open door, but there were already three ferals rounding the corner of a nearby alley. Harper yanked her hand from my grip and pulled her rifle around, raising the scope and firing her first shot fast. It hit the first feral dead center in the forehead, and she mumbled, “Six,” to herself before recharging the bolt and adjusting for the second. They were getting closer, and she fired the next shot and whispered, “Five,” as she flipped the gun around. The last feral reached us, and she smashed the butt of her gun against its face so that it dropped onto its back. She flipped the weapon again, delivering a killing blow with the bayonet.

 I’d already rushed past to the entrance of the shop, hoping no ferals would be on their way out while I reached it. “Harper!” I hissed, waving her over.

She rushed to me, catching a glimpse of another feral already tearing down the street, and sighed, “Four,” before taking aim and firing.

We slipped in, and I slammed the door shut behind us as Harper went for the nearest large item. This was a comic shop, and the closest thing heavy enough to keep the door shut was a life-sized metal sculpture of some ten-foot comic book character. Harper grunted against its weight to tip it over, and it crashed down in front of the entrance to block it. We both stopped, staring at the door and hardly daring to breathe while we waited one long, tense minute to see if any other ferals had pinpointed our location.

The moment she’d determined we were safe, Harper turned on me, and it didn’t matter that it was too dark in here for me to see much of her face. The quick, jerking movements of her body as she started toward me portrayed her fury perfectly. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. She advanced on me, huffing angrily while I retreated backward. “Harper, I’m sorry.” My ass hit the checkout counter, but she didn’t stop. She got right up on me, so close it forced me to start leaning back over the surface, and I could feel the irate heat burning in her head as it got inches from mine. I tried to turn away, flinching with every scorching breath that hit my face because she was taller and bigger and stronger and I wasn’t entirely convinced anymore that she wouldn’t kill me. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, please don’t hurt me.”

I could feel her staring me down, and then her hands came up to her chest and her fingers curled toward each other and she shook her hands in the air as she growled like she wished my neck was in them. The next moment, she turned and paced to the middle of the store, dropped her rifle on the ground and took her backpack off, and then fell flat onto her back. She groaned once more as one arm fell outward, and then she just lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling while her other hand rubbed just under her collar bones.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Do not fucking talk to me right now,” she snarled, “I swear to god.”

I didn't say a single word. I didn't even move from that spot fixed against the counter because my entire plan hinged on her not hating me, and so far I was off to a terrible start. I stood there for what felt like an hour, completely frozen except for the rise and fall of my chest with every breath, waiting for Harper to move or speak or something. She didn’t. She was quiet for so long that I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you sleeping?” I whispered.

It even took so long to get a reply that I thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but then her voice said on a clipped breath, “No.”

“…Are you still mad?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, because she sat up and said, “One bullet.” And I could see her hold up one finger in the dark. “I was willing to use one bullet to save your life because I’m a goddamn idiot, and you got me to use not one. Not even two. Four fucking bullets in one night.” She held up four fingers. “FOUR. Fifty percent of my ammo, gone in less than five minutes.” She put her hands to her head and fell back again, sighing.

“I’ll make it up to you,” I said, “I promise.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, taking her hat off and letting it fall to the floor with her arms, “you’re going to make it up to me by getting far, far away from me once we get out of here.”

That stung. I didn’t even know this girl, but that hurt. Surviving was hard, and every day was a struggle and I’d been trying so desperately to find someone who’d take me with them. I wasn’t cut out for this world. I could barely fight the ferals on my own, and it wasn’t just ferals that posed a threat out there and my only weapon was gone. I’d die. Maybe not right away, but I wouldn’t last and I knew it, and that terrified me.

But my introduction with Harper wasn’t going at all like I’d imagined it would. I thought I’d find someone who wasn’t a raider, and they’d be happy about meeting someone too, and even if they weren’t entirely gung-ho about letting me tag along, they’d let me because I had things to contribute. Only, Harper didn’t want anything to do with me. She wanted to never see me again and I couldn’t let that happen. No matter what, I couldn’t let that happen.

I had to take this slow, though. I had to be smarter about this, and about the things I said to her. So I didn’t respond to what she said. Instead, I reached into one of the pockets of my large backpack and pulled out a few thick candles and a lighter. By the time I lit the first one, Harper had sat up again, but I didn’t so much as face her as I went around the small shop and set up some lights. The place was completely empty except for the remaining wall racks and some small decorations, and it had to have been closing before the outbreak, which is why there were boards on all the windows that would block the light from the candles.

Once I’d set up the last candle and there was sufficient lighting that I could have an actual conversation with Harper, I finally turned to face her. She’d been standing as I did, but the moment she was on her feet and met my gaze, we both froze. It was our first real look at each other with more color and detail, and my brain screeched to a halt and the only thought I could process for a handful of seconds was oh, fuck… she’s hot. Her eyes were brown and bright, her skin was gorgeously suntanned and her jawline was so damn sharp. And she had hair. God did she have hair. It was brown like her eyes and kind of long and hanging over one shoulder, still all looped up into one ringlet from having it in her hat.

Shit, she was hot. I couldn’t stop staring, and I probably would’ve been embarrassed about it if she hadn’t still been staring too. But she was, and when I finally realized it, it was like a beam of hope had just broke through the heavens. Because her eyes dropped, scanning me in the kind of way that you didn’t do to just anyone, and I could work with that. I was attractive and I knew it, and I could tell that Harper thought so too, and I needed to capitalize on that. Immediately, even if not as directly as I was willing to.

So I kept my hazel eyes trained on hers while I reached up to gather my light brown hair in my hands, purposefully stretching my neck in the sexiest way I knew how while I took a hair band from my wrist to tie it up. Okay, maybe I pushed my chest out a little, too… because even through my thin crewneck sweater, I knew it’d present a tempting view.

And it worked. It worked so well that Harper’s gaze fell again, but then she realized she was staring, and her eyes widened with brief panic before she glared. “I told you not to talk to me.”

“I… didn’t say anything…”

“You were about to,” she accused, turning around and squatting to dig through her bag. “Just leave me alone.”

I sighed, slightly crestfallen about my subtle seduction not being quite as successful as I’d hoped. I wandered back to the counter to my own backpack, opening it up to survey its contents. The point of everything in here was to bargain with it, and even though Harper hadn’t seemed too interested in my supplies, I was still slightly anxious about the idea of being robbed. If Harper decided to steal everything I had, which would probably be easy for her given that I was completely unarmed, then I would literally have nothing. No supplies to live off of until I found someone who’d help me, and no rations or equipment to trade even if I did.

Regardless of the risks of revealing some of what I had on me, I reached into the pack for one of my many boxes of ammo. I read the label, and put it back in to grab another, looking for the exact kind that would fit in Harper’s sniper rifle. The next box I pulled out was the one, and I opened it to retrieve four bullets, hesitating one last time as I held them in my hand, wondering why in the hell I felt more vulnerable now than I had spending months alone.

As I turned, Harper’s head whipped away from me, and it was such a shock that I hesitated again. She’d been looking at me. I’d just caught her staring and that actually restored my hope. I strode forward, kneeling next to her as she searched through her bag, clearly just using it as a distraction.

“Harper?”

She muttered under her breath, “What?”

I held out my hand, opening my palm to reveal the bullets. “Here.”

She glanced over once with disinterest, but then did a double take, staring at the ammo for a few seconds before looking me in the eyes. Her mouth was hanging open, brow furrowed with disbelief. “Are those three-oh-eights?” she asked in shock.

I nodded. “Four of them,” and I gestured with my hand, “I told you I’d make it up to you.”

“What- You- How-” She stammered, holding out her hand so I could drop the bullets into it. “What the hell?” She turned them over in her palm, reached for her rifle and ejected the cartridge as if she somehow thought I’d stolen the four she had left, and then turned her shocked gaze back on me. “Did you just pull these out of thin air?”

“I scavenge,” I said with a shrug. “I’m good at finding things.”

She peered over my shoulder at my backpack while she put the bullets in her pocket, and then stood. “Let me see.”

“Hey!” I shot up as my heart leapt to my throat, throwing myself between her and the bag and shoving her shoulders back. “Don’t even think about it!”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed.

But that pack was my entire life, and no matter how badly I wanted her to help me, I didn’t trust her. “You’re not touching that bag. I’ll fight you if I have to.”

She seemed a bit taken aback by how firm I was being, but she held up her hands in compliance. “Show me?” I wasn’t so sure anymore that this had been a good idea. I had been planning on showing her eventually, but she’d been more eager about seeing than I predicted, and I stared her down with indecision. “I promise I won’t touch,” she said, dropping her hands. I met her eyes, still considering whether or not it was even safe to show her, and she let me think about it for a few moments before adding, “And I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” I said.

“I haven’t hurt you yet,” she pointed out.

“You wanted to.”

“But I didn’t,” she said. My focus fell to the floor, and she tilted her head to get me to look at her again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Brooklyn.”

“You swear?”

“Yeah,” she answered, her lips pulling into a small and reassuring smile. “I swear.” And wow she actually had really nice lips… nor was she as intimidating when she did that…

I gestured to where she was standing, ordering as sternly as possible, “Don’t move.”

“I won’t.”

I stepped backward till I reached the counter, and then turned sideways to start pulling boxes of ammunition out of my bag. There were lots of different kinds, and I stacked them up on the counter so she could see what types they were from where she was standing. Once I was done, I faced her again, only to find that she was staring in awe.

“Holy shit, Brooke…” she murmured. Her eyes scanned me over once more, and she looked so impressed and she’d called me Brooke instead of Brooklyn and I almost smiled too. “And you don’t have any guns?” I shook my head. “What do you want for it?”

“Take me with you.”

She stared at me for a moment, and then squinted to read the boxes. “What about the three-oh-eights and the nine millimeters? What do you want for those?”

“You have an extra gun?” I asked in surprise.

She didn’t answer. “What do you want for them?”

“Take me with you.”

Her shoulders slumped, hands gesturing toward me in frustration. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“So?” I asked. “I’m not going anywhere in particular.”

She drew in a breath like she wanted to debate it, but then she looked back at the abundance of ammo I’d collected. She hesitated, eyes going back and forth between me and the boxes for such an extended period of time that I thought she was about to agree. She was clearly tempted. But then she said, “Forget it,” and turned away.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I blurted.

“No,” she stated simply, dropping down to sit next to her bag.

“Why won’t you let me come? I’ll share everything I have with you.”

“I already told you,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how much ammo you have, at the rate I have to use bullets for you, we’d both be dead in no time.”

“Tonight never happens,” I protested. “If it did, I’d be dead already.”

She didn’t say anything, just pulled her rifle into her lap to fit the four bullets I’d given her into the cartridge. I wanted to keep arguing with her. Hell, I was getting so frustrated and discouraged that I actually felt a bit like crying and begging, but I wouldn’t let her see that. And I wouldn’t lose my composure because that wouldn’t help convince her that I was a safe person to travel with. So I took a deep breath as I began to put the ammo back into my bag, letting it out in a heavy sigh that would help me calm down.

Once I’d put everything back, I sat down on the floor and leaned back against the counter. Harper was cleaning blood off the bayonet of her rifle with a dirty rag she’d pulled from her own pack, and for a while, I just watched her. I took in her military boots and the extremely large gun that probably required a lot of training to be able to handle. She was wearing a dark tan shirt under her black hooded jacket, and now that I was really looking, I could see the links of a chain around her neck, hiding underneath the shirt.

“Were you a soldier?” I asked.

She finished the last swipe with the rag, taking her time to fold it up and stuff it back in her bag before answering. “Pretending to be interested in me isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

“God, you’re uptight,” I mumbled. I actually was interested… but that probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “We’re stuck together until night comes again. Do you really want to sit here in silence?” She didn’t respond to that right away either, so I added pleadingly, “Come on, Harper, when was the last time you had a decent conversation with another person? Don’t you get lonely?”

She looked over at me, thinking to herself and then carefully setting her weapon aside. She was so hard to read, I couldn’t tell if she just didn’t give a shit, or if she wasn’t even listening to the things I said. Just when I gave up because I was convinced she’d never warm up to me, she said, “I was a marine.”

“At Camp Pendleton?” I asked, and she nodded. “How long were you in for?”

“I joined when I was twenty, so…” She paused to do the math. “Eight years.”

I did some math of my own. That would’ve made her twenty-eight when the outbreak hit, and it’d been ten months since then so it seemed pretty safe to guess that she was twenty-nine – only a year older than me. “Did you like it?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she answered, but that was it. Geez she was difficult. I rolled my hand through the air, trying to get her to say more about it and actually talk to me, and she chuckled. It was almost a fucking laugh, and she smiled again and it was brilliant. “Yeah, I liked it,” she said. “It paid the bills, kept me in shape, the benefits were good, I got to travel.”

“What was your favorite place you went to?”

“Um,” she squinted in thought. “Stuttgart, in Germany. I was stationed there for a few years.”

“No way,” I drawled in wonder, “you got to go to Germany?” She hummed a confirmation. “Do you speak any German?”

“Ein bisschen,” she said with an accent, and when I lifted one eyebrow, she laughed and said, “a little. I picked up some, but everyone around base spoke English.”

“That’s so cool,” I mused. She didn’t say anything, so I gestured toward her gun. “Were you a sniper?”

“No,” she said. “Well, not really. My unit qualified, but it wasn’t my job.”

I nodded like I knew exactly what that meant, and asked, “Are you wearing your tags?” She reached up to touch the tags at her chest through her shirt, nodding. “Can I see?”

She fingered the outline of the chain, taking a while to think about it before reaching for the part that was around her neck. I stood, using the opportunity to move closer and sit down directly across from her, and I was hoping it was an indication of her acceptance of me that she didn’t protest. Instead, she pulled the necklace over her head and held it out. I took it, reading everything on the tags, and even though I’d truly wanted to see because I’d never met a soldier before and was curious, it also told me more about her. Her last name was Slater, and it had her social security number and even told me that her blood type was O positive. There was something on the bottom that said ‘no preference,’ but I didn’t know what that was for.

What I didn’t realize was that she’d been watching me again while I looked at it, and when I glanced up, her eyes darted away. “My last name’s Myers,” I told her as I handed the chain back. She didn’t reply, and she didn’t ask about me or even seem like she was about to. Maybe she didn’t care to know. Maybe she was afraid to know, but I needed her to. I needed her to see me not as a burden, but as a real person. “I used to do admin stuff at a graphic design company. You know, for marketing.” She gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Pretty useless since the outbreak, though… Not like being a soldier.” There was a flash of warning in her eyes, like she thought I was finally bringing the conversation back around to taking me with her. So I diverted to the first other question that popped into my mind. “Did you ever get deployed?” She hummed an affirmative. “Did you ever kill anyone?”

“You know you’re not supposed to ask that, right?”

“Oh,” I murmured, glancing away and feeling my cheeks tint. “Sorry.”

I don’t know what her reaction was, whether she was truly offended or just messing with me, but after a few more seconds, she said, “Not personally. Not before the outbreak...”

I met her gaze, and I could see in it the implication of what she’d said. She’d killed someone, or multiple someones, since the outbreak. I’d killed someone too… It was an accident. Or just dumb luck. Just defending myself and somehow managing to survive it, but I’d thrown up after. Thinking about it still made me sick to my stomach, and telling Harper about that was the last thing I wanted to do because I didn’t want her thinking I was weaker than she already did.

“Do you regret it?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “but I don’t want to talk about it.”

She turned toward her bag like she was determined not to talk about anything at all anymore, and searched through it until she’d pulled out a protein bar and a bottle of water. So I stood and strode to my bag to retrieve that can of pumpkin pie filling, opened it up, and carried it back to her with my spoon in hand. I dropped down on the floor in the same spot across from her, which earned a look bordering on annoyance and exasperation. But I didn’t let it deter me from eating with her, and I took my first bite of that filling and it was so damn good that an ungodly moan left my throat.

Harper’s chewing slowed as her wide eyes trained on me, and then narrowed with contempt. I purposefully took another bite and made that noise again. “Could you not?”

“It’s really good, though,” I said, doing my best to hold back a smirk. I scooped another spoonful and held it out to her. “Here, try it. I’ll give you half.”

“For what?” she asked, leaning away when I tried to hold the spoon to her lips.

“No strings attached.” I wavered the utensil in front of her face. “This is what got me in trouble with those ferals. Seeing as you saved me, I think you deserve half.”

She studied me like she wasn’t entirely convinced, but after a little more prodding, she finally opened her mouth to let me stick the spoon in. She worked the filling around her tongue and then swallowed and asked, “You almost died for that?”

“I got excited,” I mumbled, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m usually really good at sneaking around. It’s the only way I can survive ferals or raiders, I just messed up tonight.”

“Messing up gets you killed,” she stated, taking a large bite of her protein bar and adding through a full mouth, “you can’t afford to mess up. Especially you.”

I braced myself for her reaction as I said, “I could afford to more if I wasn’t alone…”

“Brooklyn,” she warned.

“Harper, please,” I begged. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“It’s not my problem,” she snapped. “It’s hard enough taking care of myself out there, I can’t take care of anyone else.”

“We could take care of each other.”

“I said no. Stop asking me.”

“Are my supplies not worth it?” I asked desperately. “I have food, medical supplies, all that ammo. Why is that not enough?”

“Because it’s not worth my life. Getting attached gets you killed, just like making mistakes gets you killed. Caring about anyone else out there makes you vulnerable. The only safe way to travel is to travel alone.”

I buried my face in my hands and growled my frustration into my palms. “Can I have your pistol, then?” I asked. “I’ll trade you all my three-oh-eight ammunition for it.”

Her eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“No,” she said, “I need it.”

“You don’t even have bullets for it!”

She shrugged. “I’ll find some eventually.”

I let out a disheartened noise that was half groan and half whimper as I dropped my can of pumpkin pie filling and fell onto my back. I lay there for a few seconds while Harper unscrewed the lid of her water bottle and starting gulping down fluids, debating whether or not I should say it. But I had to. I had to try.

“I’ll have sex with you if you let me come.”

Harper choked, nearly dropping her water bottle straight to the floor while she coughed on what she’d inhaled. She stared at me as I sat up, patting her chest and trying to breathe again. “Wh-” She coughed once more, clearing her throat and asking, “What did you just say?”

“I’ll have sex with you,” I repeated, looking her dead in the eyes. “Now. Later. More in the future. Whenever, as long as you let me go with you. I’ll be like your road wife.”

She stammered, unable to tear her gaze from mine while she struggled to form a response. She eventually managed, “Are you fucking with me?”

“No.” I shrugged. “I was prepared to offer as a last resort no matter what. The fact that you’re not an old guy is actually a relief…”

She inhaled to say something, let that breath out, and then took in another before finally asking, “What makes you think I even like women?” But she didn’t let me reply. “Actually, don’t answer that. Do you even like women?”

“Does it matter?” I asked, but she didn’t respond. “Come on, Harp, please. I’ll be the perfect wife, like the nineteen-fifties. I’ll greet you at the door with martini ready.”

She didn’t say anything right away as she studied me. She actually seemed like she might be considering it, because her gaze was slow and she swallowed hard. “You know what? No, it doesn’t matter.” She took another swig of water before saying, “Because we’re not having sex and you’re still not coming with me.”

I couldn’t sit there. I didn’t know exactly what kind of reaction I was about to have, whether I wanted more to yell and get pissed or to break down and cry, but no matter what it was, it wouldn’t help. I stood and folded my hands together behind my head, moving away from her so I could walk it off and compose myself. Swallow down the overwhelming despair forming at the pit of my stomach. I didn’t even want the pumpkin pie filling anymore, and I strode around the edges of the shop for upwards of an hour, completely avoiding letting Harper catch a glimpse of my face and teary eyes even though I could feel it when she was watching me.

After a long while, Harper checked the watch on her wrist, got up, and strode to the window to check outside through a crack. The sun had risen, and she propped one of the boards open just enough to let some light in, and then went around the shop to blow out the candles. She collected them as she did, and even though I was still completely avoiding her, she set them down on the counter beside my bag. Then she wandered back to her own backpack, laid down, and folded an arm behind her head.

She was going to sleep, and I didn’t know what else to do and, honestly, I was tired of dwelling on the fact that I was completely doomed to die. I pulled a small blanket out of my pack and took off my sweater, bunching it up for a pillow and pulling the blanket over me once I’d lain down. I hadn’t felt exhausted, not physically at least, but even though I fell asleep quickly, it was restless. I never had problems sleeping, but the anxiety about what I’d do to protect myself and survive carried into my dreams, and I had nightmare after nightmare.

What must’ve been hours later my eyes shot open, and whatever fear I’d felt in my sleep skyrocketed the moment I woke up. Because Harper was over me with a hand shoved down on my mouth, and in the time it took me to process that, I was already panicking. On instinct, I threw my arm as hard as I could, smashing my fist against her jaw and in such a frenzy that I hardly felt the pain in my wrist. It knocked her off enough that her hand left my mouth, but not enough for me to get away from her.

“No, Harper, please!” I swung my arms while she struggled to get over me again, trying to hit or slap or whatever I could do to defend myself because she was going to kill me, and my eyes were blurring with terrified tears.

“Brooklyn, stop,” she grunted, dodging my hits. Her lip was busted where I’d hit her, but whatever pain she might’ve been feeling, it didn’t keep her from sitting over my hips to stop my bucking.

“No!”

She managed to catch my wrist. I’d injured it hitting her and the pain was excruciating when she slammed it to the floor, but the yelp I let out never made it past the hand she clapped back over my mouth. “Please, stop,” she begged. “There’s ferals. You need to be quiet.”

I didn’t understand, and my eyes were hot with tears and my heart was thudding so fast it felt like it would explode out of my chest. But the moment I stopped struggling even a little, she stopped fighting me so hard.

“Please,” she whispered, gaze locked on mine.

I froze, unmoving except for my sniffling and the tears leaking from the sides of my eyes. And I heard it, the shuffling outside one of the boarded-up windows, the rumbling growls that accompanied it. When Harper saw that I finally realized what the real danger was, her grip on my wrist loosened, she slowly removed her hand from my mouth, and then shifted off my hips so she wasn’t on top of me anymore.

I was still in pain. And shock. Even though I wasn’t in immediate danger of being murdered, my heart was still pounding, adrenaline pumping as the residual panic twisted knots around my stomach. It took a few minutes before I managed to sit up, and I’d stopped paying attention to the ferals, but they must’ve moved on. Because Harper looked away from the door and at me, and her face fell when she saw that I was still crying.

“Shit, no, please don’t cry,” she murmured, scooting forward to get closer. “I’m sorry.” She reached out slowly, and when I didn’t flinch away, her hands set on either side of my face. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Brooke, I’m sorry.” She thumbed away the tears streaming down my cheeks. “You were dreaming or something and whimpering and it was loud. I didn’t know what else to do and I panicked.”

Only, now that my mind was slowing enough to think, I couldn’t help crying for another reason. I was being loud, and I never had dreams like that and that never happened to me but it did because I was stressed, and afraid, and out of options. And now I’d almost gotten us killed again and Harper’s lip was bleeding and any chance of her ever letting me go with her had to be completely gone. She wouldn’t even think I was reliable when I was sleeping, and the panic had drained whatever emotional control I had left, and I broke down.

I sobbed, and Harper’s eyebrows furrowed as one of her thumbs made another careful stroke over my cheek. “Please don’t… I’m sorry…”

“That never happens to me,” I whimpered through my tears. “None of this ever happens. I never sleep like that, but I was having nightmares because once you leave, I’m dead.” I choked on a sob. “I’m not going to last out there much longer but now you’re going to think that I’m loud when I sleep too and you’re never going to let me come.” I took in a blubbering breath, pulling away from her hands so I could wipe at my eyes on my own. “I’m going to die because I’m helpless, and I’m scared, Harper.”

Her gaze fell away from mine, and she stared at the floor for a few moments, searching for something to say. “For being so helpless,” she said, gesturing at her lip, “you sure pack one hell of a punch.” But it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and when that didn’t cheer me up, she reached for the hand I’d hit her with. “It’s these bony hands you got.” When she grabbed it, however, the pain in my wrist spiked, and I couldn’t help the whimper I let out as I pulled it away. There was a flood of worry on her face that I never expected to see. “Did I hurt you?”

I sniffled, inhaling deep to stop my crying as I cradled my hand to my chest. “No, I hurt myself hurting you.”

She wiped the back of her hand beneath the cut in her lip. “I’m okay, it’s just a little blood.” She motioned toward my arm. “Can I see?” I held it out to her, and she alternated between looking at it and watching my face attentively for signs of pain as she gently took it through a range of motion. “I think it’s just sprained. You said you had a medical kit?” I nodded, and she stood to reach my backpack on the counter and search through it. She came back down with the entire small box, opening it in front of me so I could watch her pull out only a cold compress. She broke open the inner package and then shook the whole bag before laying it carefully over my wrist. “Ice it for a while, it’ll help.”

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

She sat back, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “You really thought I was going to kill you. I’ve never caused fear like that before… I feel bad.” She paused and then said again, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

“Is it?” she asked, brown eyes taking me in with lingering concern. “Are you okay? Because you look kind of… pale.” She glanced around before I could answer, saying, “You need water.” She stood again to search through my backpack, bringing down my water bottle, opening it, and handing it to me.

I took it, mumbling as I lifted it to my lips, “What I really need is a super warm hug.”

I didn’t think she’d take me seriously, and she didn’t, but it did seem to draw her attention back to my body. “Here,” she said, reaching for my sweater while her eyes scanned my tank top, “you look cold.”

“Thanks.” I set my water aside, and she was being so nice that I figured the least I could do was cover up a bit more and put her out of her misery. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” she answered. She rose from the floor, saying while she wandered over to the boarded windows, “I was thinking too much to sleep.” She peeled back one of the boards enough to peer outside, shifting her position to get different angles. After a minute or two, her shoulders slumped and she whispered to herself, “I’m such a goddamn idiot,” and then turned around to face me with a sigh. “I have rules, if you’re going to come with me.”

I drew in a gasp, and that filled me with so much warmth and hope that my spirits were immediately lifted. I couldn’t help throwing myself off the floor and leaving my ice pack behind, rushing over so I could wrap my arms around her middle and really hug her. She didn’t hug me back, but I felt her give one huff of laughter.

“Rules, Brooklyn,” she reminded, voice as stern as she could make it. I let her go and backed up a step, nodding that I was listening. “Trust,” she said, holding up one finger, “there needs to be unwavering trust or we’re both fucked. I won’t ever steal from you, hurt you, or betray you, and I need to believe the same of you, beyond a doubt.”

“I won’t,” I said eagerly, “I promise.”

“That being said,” she continued, holding up a second finger, “you do what I say, when I say it, no questions asked.” I hummed my agreement, waiting for the next one as her hand flashed three. “Human or feral, it doesn’t matter, we engage only when we have to. Combat is a last resort.” She held up a fourth finger. “I need you to show me that you’re not loud. I want to believe it; I have no idea how you’d even be alive right now if it weren’t true. Prove it to me. Finally, don’t take risks.” I gave another earnest nod. “What are the rules?”

“Trust,” I listed, “do what you say, don’t engage, be quiet, don’t take risks. I can do it, Harp.”

She was quiet for a moment while she studied me, and then nodded toward my bag. “Ice your wrist. Your health is important for both of us.” I went straight back to the floor where my blanket and ice pack were, returning the compress to my wrist to take care of it. Harper wandered to her own bag, grabbed something off the ground, and carried it to me. “I’m going to sleep,” she said, setting my can of pumpkin pie filling and spoon next to me. “Wake me up when the sun’s going down.”

I picked up the filling, my lips pulling into a smile while Harper laid down on the floor by her backpack. She’d duct taped the open end of the can so it would stay fresh while I was sleeping, and after peeling the tape off, I found that she’d eaten some too. It wasn’t quite the half that I’d offered – only a few bites – but she’d actually taken me up on it and that made my smile widen. I glanced over, and Harper was watching me with something of a smile on her face too, but she rolled over when I caught her so that she wasn’t facing me anymore.

“Sleep tight,” I said, grinning while I lifted a spoonful to my mouth. And for some reason, it tasted worlds better than it did when I’d taken my first bite.

~~~~

Two weeks later, Harper and I were laying down behind the peak of a hill, peering over the other side to a line of houses in the California desert. We stared for another minute before she asked, “Which one?”

“That one.” I pointed to a house on the far right. “That one’s going to have food. Yummy food.”

She glanced over at me, eyebrows furrowed skeptically. “But how do you know?”

That wasn’t a question I could answer. Maybe it was the super old, wood-paneled station wagon parked out front that screamed ‘grandma,’ and grandmas always had good food in their houses. Maybe it was the bird feeders and ceramic decorations and potted plants outside that hinted ‘nurturer.’ “A hunch,” I said, unable to explain the feeling. I just knew.

Harper pulled her sniper rifle around, laying it on the ground and pushing the hat higher up her head so she could put her eye to the scope. She studied the house through the lens, and then used it to scan up the street. “I don’t see any ferals through the windows, but there’s a lot outside…”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“What are the rules?”

“Yeah, don’t engage or take risks, I know.” I took my backpack off and flipped over to dig through it, pulling out a roll of fuse string and a long line of firecrackers. “But we don’t have to.”

She squinted in shock, trying to look into my bag. “Does that bag even have a bottom?”

I smirked, pulling out the pocket knife we’d found and cutting off a handful of the fireworks. “I’ll go to the far end of the street and light these off for a distraction. You go in and clear the house if there’s any ferals inside.”

“It’s still a risk,” she murmured. “And that’s not quiet either.” She stared over the hill at the house and down the street for a long minute, thinking about my plan. “No way,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not lighting the fuse, it’s too dangerous. I’ll do it.”

“I’ve done it before,” I argued. “And you’ll be better at clearing the house than me.”

She hesitated for a while longer before asking, “You’re sure it’ll work? There’s too many ferals out there for me to save you if it goes wrong.”

“Then I’ll take the risk,” I told her.

“I don’t like risk,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

“And I don’t like breaking my rules. Three of my rules.”

“Technically,” I drawled, “you’re not.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Harp. I’m like seventy-five percent sure it’ll be worth it.”

She deadpanned at me. “You’re willing to risk your life on seventy-five percent?” I nodded. “Jesus. You’re really goddamn stubborn, you know that?” I simply grinned at her, and she scowled at me for another half a minute before groaning, “Fine.”

“Take my bag?” I asked, retrieving the lighter and standing with everything in hand. “I can run faster without it.”

“Be careful,” she hissed after me as I began to retreat.

I stayed crouched and followed the length of the hill up the street, keeping out of sight of the ferals on the road. When I got to the end, I scoped the best place to set up the firecrackers and the fuse, and then made sure I’d mapped out my path of escape. There was a visible ravine behind the houses, which would offer more cover for me to get to our target house from behind instead of crossing the street in view of ferals. So I tied the end of my fuse line to the one on the firecrackers and then crept out of cover. I snuck over to the small playground at the end of the road, set the firecrackers down on the jungle gym, and fed the fuse line behind me as I ducked behind structures until I’d reached the ravine.

I knelt out of view and put my lighter to the fuse. The flame fed up the line and disappeared from sight, and I held my breath with anticipation until finally there was the blaring pop of the firecrackers in the distance. It was followed by multiple roars, and I could just imagine the ferals tearing off up the street in pursuit of the sound. I waited a minute to make sure the coast was clear, and then made my way slowly along the ravine, poking my head up every so often make sure there were no ferals at the rear of the houses. Eventually I reached our target, and darted up the ravine and skirted along the side of the home to the front. I peered around the corner to double check, seeing that Harper had already broken the door open with her crowbar and was inside.

I hurried to the door, closing it behind me and turning around to see Harper stop the path she was wearing into the carpet. “Were you pacing?” I asked amusedly.

“What took you so long?”

“It didn’t take me long,” I said, unable to contain a smile even though I refrained from teasing her for being worried about me. “Were there any in here?”

“No.” She shoved a heavy cabinet in front of the door to keep it closed, and then waved for me to follow. “Kitchen’s in here.”

We passed through the doorway from the living room to the kitchen, where she’d set our bags on the dining table. “Moment of truth,” I said, watching as she pulled open the pantry doors. “Ha!” I beamed. The thing was stocked full of goods. “Told you!”

“Holy shit,” she whispered. She began to pull bags and boxes and cans of food out and tossed them onto the island behind her. “You’re three for three,” she said when she was done, looking me up and down with an impressed glimmer in her eyes. “You really are good at this.” I was more apt to call it luck, but I gave her a toothy grin anyway.

“There’s more here than we can carry,” I pointed out as I looked over all the things she’d put on the counter. “Even with my bottomless bag.”

She cracked a smile. “We’ll stay for a few days, eat some of this and then figure a way out if the street’s blocked again.”

“Dibs on the chips,” I said, snatching a bag of corn chips off the counter and carrying it with me to the dining table. Harper grabbed a box of cereal, plopping down in the chair across the table from mine. To fill some of the time, she flipped the box sideways so she could read the nutrition facts, and it wasn’t the first time she’d done something like that. She was always looking at labels, usually picking the healthiest thing she could when she had options. “Seriously?” I laughed. “The world’s over and you’re still worried about eating right.”

“If it keeps me alive, yeah.” She pulled the hat off her head, letting her hair fall out of it and then adjusting it over one shoulder, and I kind of wished she knew it made me want to swoon when she did that… She at least caught me staring harder than normal, because she added, “And pretty soon I won’t have a choice anymore, so I’ll eat healthier when I can.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” I asked, tossing a chip into my mouth.

“Chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Oh my god… that’s hardly a dessert.”

“No?” she asked, and I shook my head. “Okay, um, cheesecake.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, Brooke,” she said, “any kind.”

“I’ll accept strawberry cheesecake,” I suggested, and she nodded her consent. “Mine’s donuts.”

“What kind?” she asked.

“All of them.”

“But what flavor?” she asked. “What about the frosting? What about the filling? What about the shape?”

And I realized that she was teasing me for asking so many questions, so I hurled a corn chip across the table at her and chuckled, “Shut up.”

“You missed,” she said. I threw another, and she dodged it and her smile widened. So I chucked another, this time hitting her square in the eyebrow, and she laughed, “Okay, good shot.” She didn’t do that much, the laughing and the playing. At least not in the two weeks I’d been traveling with her. I cherished the moment while it’d last, because whenever she was in this kind of mood, it was the least amount of lonely I’d felt in ten months.

“Okay, favorite healthy food?” I held up a chip in threat. “And you better make it specific.”

“Kale salad,” she answered, and when I wound up my arm, she added, “with walnuts, cranberries, corn, and chicken.”

“You put corn in a salad?” I asked, and when she nodded, I made a face.

“What’s your favorite, then?”

“Juice Factory smoothies,” I answered.

She snorted, dodging the chip I threw at her for laughing at me. “That place is not healthy! They put ice cream and tons of sugar.”

“But it’s also got fruit, and sometimes protein and vitamins, and some veggies…”

“I cannot deal with you sometimes,” she said, but she was smiling that rare kind of happy smile that made her face light up.

All I could do was shrug, and the chips I was eating were stale, so I motioned toward my bag. “I have some hot sauce packets in the side pocket.”

“What don’t you have in here?” she muttered, opening up a side pocket and pulling out some packets. “Uh…” She held up a strip of condoms instead. “These are not hot sauce.”

“Oh,” I breathed. I’d forgotten all about those, and the fact that she’d found them was super awkward and she was just staring at me, waiting for an explanation. “I told you… remember? I was prepared to offer myself if it would mean protection. I didn’t know who it’d be so I was just… you know… thinking ahead.”

She didn’t stop staring at me. It was very clear that she didn’t know what to say, but I couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking either. She was attracted to me, I’d seen it in her eyes and I’d caught her checking me out and I had no doubt about it. But she also hadn’t taken me up on the offer I’d made. This was the first time either of us had even brought it up again, and I wasn’t sure she ever would take me up on it.

I was trying to protect myself in any way that I could, that’s why I’d put the condoms in my bag, but there were multiple reasons I didn’t need them anymore. Maybe Harper would never even want me to make good on that part of the deal, but based solely on how hot she was, I couldn’t say I’d be disappointed if she did. And sometimes she smiled and laughed and actually seemed happy about me being around, and then I started thinking I might not have minded for other reasons either…

Instead of saying anything about the offer, however, Harper dropped the strip on the table and searched in another side pocket for the hot sauce. She found it, tossed a couple packets across to me, and grabbed her cereal box. “I’m going to search the rest of the house.” She was gone before I could find something to say, and didn’t come looking for me until we could both pretend we’d forgotten about it.

~~~~

It was hot, even though both of us had taken our jackets off by now. The sun was beating down on us as we trekked over sand and rock that seemed to reflect all the heat right back on us. We were hiking straight out into the desert, away from the ghost town behind us and in a direction that we’d hoped there was nothing. There wasn’t. It was all sand and dry plants and cactus and sunshine. Brutal sunshine. It was the first time I’d traveled during the day in a long time, and I’d forgotten exactly how hot it could get.

“I think this is far enough,” Harper said, stopping to peer back in the direction we’d come. We’d hiked for miles, so deep into the empty desert that nothing would hear the gunshots. Because, after more than a month, she was finally going to teach me to shoot. “You can set up the cans while I check the gun.”

I dropped my backpack and retrieved the empty tin cans we’d saved from meals, carrying them a little farther and calling, “Here?”

“That’s good,” Harper called back. I set the cans on top of various things – on a cactus, on a rock, on a bush, on the ground – and then trudged back to Harper. She held the gun up so I could see it. “Rule number one-”

“You and rules…”

“This is serious, Brooklyn,” she said. “Rule number one, never point the gun at something you don’t intend to shoot. Right now, that means don’t point it toward me.”

“Okay.”

She handed it over, and I held the barrel end in the general direction of the targets, away from her. “Rule number two,” she made a deliberate glance at my hand, “finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” I took my finger off the trigger. “And rule number three: if you shoot, you shoot to kill, and you better be prepared for the consequences.”

“Got it.”

She gestured under my hand to get me to raise the weapon, and then pointed. “Safety here, push it down to turn it off.” I passed her a curious look, and she nodded that I could do it. I clicked it off, and she went over the top of the gun to point at the front end. “Line up these sights over your target, and fire when you’re ready.”

She backed up a few steps, and I did as she said and took aim. But I’d never fired a gun before, and honestly I didn’t like guns much and the idea of it having recoil scared me. So I flinched before I’d even fired, and it knocked off my aim so I didn’t hit anything.

“Stand steady,” Harper instructed. “It won’t hurt you.” I took aim again, but I was tense, and even though I tried not to move that time, I couldn’t help it. “You’re anticipating the kick. Don’t do that, just hold the gun straight.” The kick was powerful enough that, every time I shot, I could feel it rock me on my feet. I didn’t like that, and there was an uncontrollable fear that if I tried to fight it instead of giving into it, it’d only kick harder. So I missed the next shot I fired too. “You’re flinching,” Harper said impatiently.

“I’m trying not to,” I muttered. I shot again, but I just couldn’t keep my body stiff.

“Stop,” Harper groaned, “stop, you’re wasting ammo. Why are you flinching?”

“I’m scared it’s going to knock me back if I force it,” I admitted.

“It’s only a nine millimeter,” she said in exasperation. All I did was shrug. “It’s not going to knock you back, I promise. Hold it firm, feet shoulder width apart, okay?” I nodded, adjusting my feet and doing my best to grip it tight and not flinch… “Brooklyn!” Harper exclaimed after my next shot.

“I’m sorry!” I dropped my aim. “Maybe if you helped show me instead of just getting mad!”

She sighed, dropping her head back in defeat as she trudged over. “Raise your arms again,” she instructed as she took her hat off to flip it around backward. But it made her hair fall out of it before she’d put it back on, so it was hanging over her shoulder again and the hat was backward and I was staring maybe a little… “Brooklyn,” she said, gesturing impatiently, “lift your arms.” I did as she said and took aim. “I’m going to get behind you, okay?”

“Okay…”

She didn’t just get behind me. She got right up behind me, pressing herself firm against my back. “I’m going to stand here,” she said, and she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into her even more, “I’m solid, see? I won’t let you get knocked back.”

And maybe I also kind of wanted her a little closer, because I glanced back over my shoulder and asked, “My arms flinch a lot too…”

She studied me for a nerve-racking amount of seconds, and while a part of me wondered if she knew exactly what I was doing, another part of me didn’t care. Because eventually she set one hand on my shoulder, and leaned far enough around me to set her other hand on mine. Her fingers curled around my own as I gripped the gun, and she was so close that I could feel her breath on my ear when she said, “Just one good shot, so I know you can.” I nodded, shuffling my feet outward to ready my stance and prepare myself, but the moment I started moving, Harper’s hands shot down to grab my hips. “Don’t do that.”

It took me a few seconds to realize exactly the kind of reaction I’d just gotten, and why. It must’ve wiggled my hips when I was shuffling my feet, and she’d just had a very physical response, if the strength of her grip was any indication. But even though it was a million degrees outside, I didn’t mind the heat of her body at my back, or the clutch of her hands, and I could still feel her breath tickling my ear and this was just too good not to take advantage of. “Don’t keep my feet shoulder width apart?” I asked innocently, “or…” and I shuffled my feet out just enough to use it as an excuse to move my hips again.

“Brooklyn,” she growled, and her grip tightened as if to keep me from moving and that was… that was definitely her finger against my bare skin. It didn’t seem like she’d done it on purpose, just that in her panic she’d knocked my tank top up enough for the pad of her ring finger to set on my hip, but the touch was blazing.

I don’t know if it’s what she was focusing on, or trying not to focus on, because I couldn’t see her face, but I ignored the warning in her tone and made another short swing of my hips, purposefully pushing back into her as I copied her tone teasingly, “Harper.”

Then her hands were gone. She held them up and said, “I’m done,” as she retreated a few paces away from me. “Figure it out on your own.”

That wasn’t what I wanted. That was the complete opposite of what I wanted, and I was lying to myself if I said I wasn’t disappointed she wouldn’t even flirt with me. “Come on, I’m sorry. I was just messing around.”

“Exactly,” she said, and she was irritated. “I’m trying to help you and you’re playing games.”

“I’m not playing games,” I told her. That made it sound like I was scheming when I did things like that, when really I just thought she was hot and it got lonely out here and why not at least flirt some? “I was just trying to have a little fun.”

“Well it’s not fun,” she snapped. “Stop doing it.”

Okay, now she was starting to get on my nerves. “What is your problem?”

“My problem is that you’re not taking me seriously.”

“Maybe you’re not taking me seriously,” I spat.

That got her to pause. She caught on to exactly what I was implying, and she tried so hard not to let it get to her. Not to let it make her eyes wander, but they did, and that made her glare. “Shoot the damn gun, Brooklyn. Properly.”

I was annoyed enough now that I didn’t care about the kick. So I turned, aimed with my body stiff with tension, and fired. The tin can on top of the cactus went flying off, and I turned back around to scowl at Harper. “There.” I paced over and dropped the gun on top of her backpack. “Thanks for the help.”

I picked up my own pack and fitted it over my shoulders, stomping off back in the direction we’d come. Harper caught up to me soon after, but it was a quiet trek back into the ghost town.

~~~~

The first time we finally saw more people, Harper practically tackled me to the ground. She saw them before I did, and grabbed me by the backpack and whipped me behind the cover of a car. I hit it with a heavy thunk, unsure of whether it was my skull or my bag that took a harder beating.

“Ow, geez.”

“Sh!” She peered over the trunk, but when she looked at me again I was rubbing the back of my head, and she added, “Sorry.”

“What do you see?” I asked, turning over onto my knees so I could look with her. There were eight of them judging by what I could see from their firelight, camped out on the two-lane highway and blocking the direction we were trying to go. “Did they see us?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” She sighed and flipped around, leaning back against the car. “I saw a sign for another highway back a ways. We’ll have to take it.”

“But what if they’re friendly?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She pushed up and motioned for me to follow. “Come on, stay down.”

I followed close behind her, but said, “What are we going to do? Travel forever? Don’t you want to settle down somewhere safe eventually?”

“You want to settle down with a random group of people,” she asked, “in the middle of a highway? With no protection?”

“I guess not…” I said. We got far enough away that we didn’t have to worry about being seen, so we adjusted to walk side by side. “But I’m planting my roots the second we find a place.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “What about me?”

“Aren’t you going to stay too?”

“No,” she answered. “Settling down is dangerous. Staying in one place too long is dangerous.”

“But maybe you’re wrong,” I suggested. “You were wrong about me…”

“Maybe,” she agreed, and the fact that she didn’t argue about my second statement caused my lips to curl. “But I wouldn’t risk it.”

“Oh.” I watched my feet for a minute while I thought about it. Sometimes she said things like that, like ‘what about me,’ and it was almost like she wanted me around. I didn’t point it out though, because anytime anything got even slightly intimate, she avoided it like the plague, but that made me question what I wanted. Would I want to settle down somewhere knowing Harper was still out there? Struggling to survive. Could I live with that?

We walked the rest of the way to the side road in silence, and trekked along it for a while before being brought to a halt. The highway went through a short tunnel that was supposed to go under a small mountain to the other side, but the tunnel had been blown up, rocks and boulders and chunks of cement blocking it off. Harper sighed when we reached it, pulling out her flashlight to point it up toward the mountain and look for another way. The mountain was too steep for us to climb it, but I doubted she wanted to go back and risk slipping past those people.

She pointed her flashlight at the blockage in the tunnel, searching every bit of it before walking toward one spot in particular. She leaned, peered through what looked like a manmade hole to the other side, hesitated for a long moment, growled quietly, and then muttered, “I think we can climb through.”

“Let’s do it,” I agreed. She nodded, but shined her flashlight through it again, humming with reluctance and then forcing a breath through pursed lips. “What’s wrong?”

“I um…” She paced a few steps away, tapping her hand against her thigh as she strode back. “I get claustrophobic. Really claustrophobic.” She took in a deep breath and muttered, “Fuck,” under her breath, and then admitted quietly, “it’s a PTSD thing.”

“From being deployed?” I asked.

She shook her head, pacing away again and then returning, taking in deep breaths while she did. “There was an earthquake, when we were kids.” I nodded in remembrance. “I was playing in the shed and everything collapsed on me.” She shook both hands out. “I was stuck there till they realized I was missing.”

“We don’t have to go this way,” I told her, “we’ll find something else.”

“Bakersfield is that way,” she said. It’s where we’d agreed on going. “I can do it, I have before, I just… this tunnel is longer, and it doesn’t help that it’s dark…”

I watched her pace for half a minute while one of her hands went up to rub at her chest, figuring she knew better than I did how she liked to cope, but even though she was trying to take deep and steady breaths, it wasn’t working. So I asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” she answered, but she paused from her methodic breathing to stare at me for a few seconds like she was thinking about it. “No.”

I’d never seen her like this. She was always so in control of everything, but she was genuinely afraid. I never thought I’d see a day where she was truly afraid of anything, but she was and that worried me. She paced and panted for another few seconds, still rubbing under her collarbones with one hand, and I realized I’d seen her do that before. When we first met – she’d been upset about getting trapped with me and had lain on the floor doing that for almost an hour. And we’d been stuck in a relatively small room. A part of me wondered if it would help if I did it instead, if it’d feel any better, like massages always felt better when someone else did it. So I strode over as she paced away, reaching her just as she turned. She almost bumped into me, but froze as her eyes locked on mine with obvious curiosity.

I lifted my hand, setting it beside hers on her chest, and hers fell away as the curiosity on her face deepened. But then I made that first pressing stroke between her shoulders, and she let out a sigh. A couple more slow strokes and her shoulders slumped a bit with relaxation, and she actually dropped her backpack and rifle and turned around to press her back against me, letting me reach around her to do it.

“This helps?” I asked, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice while I rubbed her chest.

She hummed, and I felt another heavy sigh leave her body. “Sometimes you know things…” she murmured. “How do you always know?”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see it, and I couldn’t resist leaning my head forward against her upper back. This was the first time she’d let me stay so near to her, and admittedly it probably helped that I wasn’t flirting, but she felt so good. So strong and safe, even when she was afraid.

I could’ve stayed like that far longer than we did, but after a minute, she seemed calm enough that I asked, “Will it be better for you if you go first, or if I do?”

She glanced toward the tunnel, hesitating and then saying, “I’ll go first. Then I can make sure the other side is clear too.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t stop touching her until she took in a deep breath and pulled away from me. She grabbed her stuff off the ground, put it back on, and marched to the tunnel with resolve. She climbed into it with her flashlight in hand, disappearing into the darkness so I could see nothing but the white blur of her light. It didn’t take her long at all to crawl through, and the beam disappeared for a good thirty seconds before she shined it back at me from the other side.

“It’s clear,” she called.

I got into the start of the tunnel, squinting against the beam of her light but allowing it to guide me through. It was just big enough that I could fit inside with my massive backpack, but I couldn’t bear crawl like Harper had. I had to inch through in a shimmy. Like a worm.

It was slow-going, and Harper’s voice echoed, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, knowing by the nearness of her that I was getting close to the end. “This big backpack isn’t always a good thing.”

She chuckled, and it was nice to hear her free of tension again. “You’re almost there.”

But the tunnel was narrowing a little as it got toward the end, so that my bag caught on the edges of rocks and I had to use my strength to break free. I was near enough that I could reach out and grab Harper’s hand when my bag caught again. It was the tightest hold yet, and I grunted with the strain of trying to break myself free.

“You and that backpack,” Harper laughed, reaching in to grab my hands and help pull me. The moment she did, there was a low growl from somewhere behind me. We both froze. “Please tell me that was you.”

I didn’t even get the chance to shake my head before something closed around my ankle. I screamed, kicking back and catching something with the sole of my shoe. “It’s here, pull me!” Harper tugged, but I could feel hands grasping at my legs and I could just picture rotting teeth trying to snap down on my flesh. I kicked wildly, twisting as much as I could to try and move unpredictably, but I had so little space and I was still stuck. “Harder!” I pleaded. Something more firm pressed against my calf, something I recognized as teeth through my jeans, and I bucked, hearing the shifting of rocks from above me as I broke away from the bite. Fuck. I was either going to get bitten or crushed if I didn’t get out of here now. “Harper, fucking pull!”

Her hands moved up to grip my forearms tighter, and she threw all her weight backward in one good wrench. I broke free, and she fell backward as I flew out of the tunnel and landed right on top of her. It separated the rock I’d been stuck against from the rest, shifting the balance so that the entire tunnel collapsed onto the feral that had been scrambling through.

“Brooke?” Harper asked frantically, but my heart was pounding and I dropped my forehead against her shoulder to catch my breath. “Are you okay? Did it bite you?” I shook my head, but that must not have been good enough, because she grabbed my face and forced me off her shoulder so she could look at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I breathed.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me back down to hug me. “Jesus,” she said, “you’re a goddamn feral magnet.”

“Don’t say life with me isn’t exciting,” I mumbled against her, and to my relief, she huffed with amusement, hugging me for a solid minute before she decided it was time to move.

~~~~~

The good thing about traveling in the desert was that we could travel during the day. Every once in a while, we’d see a group of ferals in the distance, but the California desert was unpopulated enough that we didn’t have to worry about it. And the best part of traveling during the day so far was that I’d seen a lake close by. The moment I caught sight of it, I’d gasped. Harper seemed to know what I was thinking, but she didn’t even bother arguing with me when I dragged her in its direction.

Then we reached it, and it was infinitely better than I could’ve hoped. It looked like a vacation spot, complete with picnic tables and charcoal grills and a couple of cabins and the soft lapping of the water at the shoreline. It was a cloudlessly beautiful day and there wasn’t a feral in sight up and down the bank, so I threw my backpack onto the nearest picnic table and reached for the hem of my tank top.

“What are you doing?” Harper asked, diverting her eyes when I took my shirt off.

“Going for a swim,” I said happily.

“You can’t swim,” she protested, looking over and then away again when she realized I was taking my pants off too. “You’ll be vulnerable.”

“We will be fine,” I said, tossing my jeans onto the table. “Come on,” I reached for the bottom of her shirt, “swim with me.”

But the moment my fingers skimmed the flesh of her stomach, she sucked in a breath and grabbed my hands. “Don’t do that.” Only, she had to look at me to stop me, and once her eyes were on my half-bare body, she didn’t seem to be able to tear them away.

I let her shirt go anyway, not wanting her resistance to being attracted to me to ruin the day. “Please,” I begged, “have some fun for once.”

She shook her head, hopping up onto the table to sit on the surface with her feet on the bench. “I’ll keep an eye out while you swim.”

“You’re such a square,” I complained, reaching behind me for the clasp of my bra. 

“Please don’t,” she blurted, and her cheeks gained a visible tint as she glanced around and said, “at least have something on in case there’s trouble…”

Sure, trouble. Trouble was exactly what she was thinking about when she looked at me again, and when her eyes did an involuntary scan of my figure. However, my ultimate goal was to get her in the water with me, and being completely naked would only make that harder. So I left my bra and underwear on and hurried down the sand to the lake. The water was warmer than I thought – a lot warmer than the Colorado River when I used to go there before the outbreak – so I dove fully under, resurfacing where it reached my neck.

“The water feels great!” I called to Harper encouragingly.

She purposefully pulled her backpack and rifle off, leaning back on her hands to get more comfortable. “You have fun.”

Fine, I was going to have to resort to something drastic to get her in. I swam around for a couple minutes so it wouldn’t be completely obvious what I was doing. Once it seemed like she’d forgotten about it, I shrieked, falling under the surface of the water. I thrashed around like I was being attacked, half-expecting that there was no way in hell Harper would fall for this. But her obsession with safety made her reluctant to take chances, and she reached me far quicker than I expected her to. She scooped me into her arms and hoisted me out of the water, still fully dressed and her face completely frantic until she realized I was laughing. She deadpanned.

“I hate you so much.” She dropped me with a splash back into the water.

She turned to start heading out, but I sprang onto her back from behind. “Don’t go!” I laughed. “How else was I supposed to get you out of your clothes.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes.” She peeled my arms from around her neck so that I fell back into the water. “Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? I didn’t even take my damn boots off.”

“Are you coming back?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t made her too upset as she trudged onto the sand. She really had jumped in fully clothed to rescue me. Except for her hat; she’d managed to take that off first.

She sighed so loud even I could hear it. “Is there any point doing anything else now?” She reached down to unlace her boots and then took them and her socks off to set them on the table in the sun. “My clothes need to dry.” She stripped off her shirt and her pants until she was in nothing but her sports bra and boy short underwear.

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as she wandered back over, but I’d never seen her without clothes on before and holy shit. I mean, I knew she was muscular. It kind of came with the territory and I’d caught myself staring at her biceps multiple times when she wasn’t wearing her jacket. But her stomach and thighs. God, her stomach and thighs. She had the hottest four pack I’d ever seen, the kind I wanted to run my hands over… and maybe my tongue… and her thighs were full of lean muscle and I was so not prepared for this.

I’d wanted so badly for her to swim with me and be comfortable enough to take some of her clothes off, but now I couldn’t handle it. I was flustered, and blushing. There wasn’t even the fragment of a flirtatious comment anywhere in my brain because my entire brain was dead. For the millionth time in my life, I’d gotten myself in over my head, and I couldn’t stand being this attracted to her when she wouldn’t so much as entertain the idea of flirting back.

So when she reached where I was in the water, I floated on my back, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun and so she wouldn’t catch me staring. But I could feel her staring, and all she’d ever do was look. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat, and even though I didn’t open my eyes, I could hear her swimming around. I opened them once and caught her looking over at me on her next lap around me, and her eyes darted away like it wasn’t the first time, only the first time I’d caught her.

It took a while for me to regain my composure, and work up the nerve to talk to her without being completely obvious about exactly how turned on the mere sight of her could get me. “The sun feels really good,” I mused, finally straightening up to stand.

Harper hummed her agreement, stopping her laps to stand a couple of feet away. “I was thinking we could stay here the rest of the day, and sleep in one of those cabins tonight.”

My lips split into a hopeful grin as I asked, “Can we stay more than one day?”

She watched me for a few moments, and then peered at the beach in consideration. “We’ll see how safe we feel tonight,” she answered eventually, “maybe.”

We swam for a while more, and spent the rest of the afternoon basking in the sun. It was almost like old times, like hanging out before the outbreak, if I didn’t think about what was happening in the rest of the world. This spot of the lake was secluded and all the cabins were empty, leaving us with our choice of which to sleep in. By the time we turned in for the night, sleeping in actual beds for a change, a day spent lounging in the sun actually left me more tired than I expected. I’d have fallen asleep quickly, but just when I could feel myself drifting off, Harper began to shift.

She was in the twin bed beside mine in the hotel style cabin, and she rolled over again. And again. It went on for a while, and just when I thought she was done or had found a comfortable enough position, she shifted again. I knew she wasn’t asleep because she usually slept soundly, and her breathing was always a little heavier, but I couldn’t figure out what the problem was. She was restless about something, but we were safe here and we’d had such a good day.

I was so tired that eventually I couldn’t take it anymore, and was about to say something when she whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Like I could sleep with you moving so much…”

“Sorry,” she said quietly. She held perfectly still, but even in the dark, I could sense the tension of her forcing herself to try and relax, and it didn’t work. After a couple of minutes, she rose, shuffled across to my bed, and sat down next to me.

That got me to sit up. “What’s wrong?”

She took in a deep breath, held it for a long span of seconds, and then let it out all at once. “Were you serious about what you said?”

“What I said about what?”

“Um,” she mumbled, “you know,” and she breathed deep again and sighed, then cleared her throat, saying so softly I almost didn’t hear, “about the sex.”

No matter how quiet it was, my entire body flushed with such a powerful heat at that mere word coming out of her mouth that I clenched. She wasn’t about to ask… was she? Fuck, was she really going to ask? Finally? Was it because of today? Because we’d spent so much time together without all our clothes on and she’d reached a breaking point? “Is that why you can’t sleep?” I asked, and despite the immediate arousal at the very idea of what might be about to happen, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “Because you’re horny?”

She immediately began to rise. “This is a mistake.”

“No, wait,” I blurted, reaching for her arm, “I was serious.” She settled back down, but it was with a very clear hesitation. “About what I said, and that was actually kind of a serious question…”

She was silent for a few seconds before mumbling, “Yes… I’d never ask but I can’t take it anymore, and it’s not like I can take care of it myself with you around.”

“Why not?” I asked. “I do.”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me that.”

“Are you serious?” I chuckled. “You’re asking me about sex but can’t hear that I masturbate when I know you’re asleep?”

“I can’t do this,” she muttered, beginning to rise again, “I’ll just go sleep in another cabin.”

“Harper, wait.” I grabbed her arm again, frantic that I’d miss this opportunity because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. “I was serious, and I will, if you want. Whatever you want.”

There was another long silence, during which she swallowed hard and took in a nervous breath. “So, um,” she said, clearing her throat again, “if I wanted to, how would I, uh, you know…” she forced a terse breath through her lips, “go about it?”

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I guess you could kiss me if you wanted, and we could go from there. Or, I don’t know, if you don’t want to kiss me, I could just… you know… take care of you.”

“I’ll kiss you,” she said, but then she stammered, and I’d never experienced her being this awkward. “Only if you want, though, because I know you offered but I don’t want to take advantage of the deal. Or you.”

Right… the deal… Fuck, that’s why she was doing this. I’d almost forgotten through my focus on the idea that she’d actually kiss me. It helped ease the sting a little that I knew she was genuinely attracted to me, but there was a part of me that wished she was doing it just because she wanted to. Still, there was another part of me that didn’t care, that wasn’t worried about why she’d do this just so long as she did.

“You can kiss me,” I told her.

She breathed a barely audible, “Okay.”

It took another few moments before she twisted toward me in the dark, and then another before she reached up. I wasn’t sure what to expect from her, whether she’d go right for it or back out and whether it’d be desperate or soft or rough. But then her hand cupped my face, and it took several long seconds before her nose touched mine. I don’t know if she was trying to make sure I was comfortable and not intimidated, or if she was nervous, but it felt like it took another eternity for her to finally kiss me.

Her closed lips met mine, and she was so warm and gentle and she set her forehead against mine after, and she hesitated to kiss me again like she was making sure I was okay with it. So I parted my lips, brushing her mouth while everything in me begged her to kiss me more solidly, and she did. Her open mouth met mine for another long, slow kiss, and it wasn’t desperate or soft or rough. It was sensual. Fuck it was the most erotic fucking kiss I’d ever had. Her lips closed around my bottom one, and when they opened, her tongue was there. It skimmed my bottom lip and dipped into my mouth, grazing the tip of mine and then retreating, touching my lip once more before her lips closed against mine. Her hand was still on my face when she opened again. My tongue was waiting eagerly for hers, and she gave it to me as her thumb stroked my cheek, and I flooded with another rush of heat that completely melted everything in me.

My muscles went weak, and I’d been holding back for so long and I didn’t want to hold back anymore. I wanted her, and it wasn’t her who got desperate. I reached up to grasp the back of her neck, leaning forward to kiss her deeper and pull her into me, and she listened. It was like the snapping of whatever restraint she had left. Her hand left my face for my lower back, the strength of her arm pulling me further down the bed while she maneuvered over me, laying me back in one swift movement. It was so confident compared to how nervous she’d been a minute before, and she was so sure of herself as she set her hips between my legs and it was so fucking sexy.

She grabbed my hip with one hand and clutched me closer as she ground down against me, but even that confidence didn’t stop her from breathing against my lips, “Stop me whenever you want.”

“I don’t want to,” I panted, already breathless with my need, and I gripped her head to instruct her to keep kissing me as deeply as she could, and only when I was certain she wouldn’t stop did my hands wander down. 

I wanted to touch her. To feel all the muscles I’d been drooling over all day, and I went straight for them. I slipped my hands beneath her shirt, completely unsure of if she’d even let me until the moment my fingers touched down. She didn’t stop me. She let out a stuttering breath against my mouth, every muscle of her abdomen clenching against my palms as she lifted enough to make it easier, and the receptiveness of her reaction caused a decided clench between my own legs. My hands rounded her waist to grab her back, to feel the muscles there while I pulled her back down to me, rolling my hips against her.

Her hand clutched tight against my hip, and as my palms slid lustfully up her spine, she left my lips for my jaw. She kissed to my ear, kissed my earlobe and the sensitive spot below it before slipping her hand to the bottom of my shirt and asking, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” I said, practically pleading for it as I angled my chin so she could kiss me anywhere she wanted.

I wanted her hands all over me. It’d been so long since I’d been touched like this, and it was Harper, and she slid one hand up beneath my shirt. It caressed up my ribs, slid back down along the curve of my waist, and worked up the middle of my stomach so slowly that my back bowed away from the mattress. I pushed into her touch as encouragingly as I could, savoring the glorious moment she reached my chest. She grabbed, palming a breast and then realizing I was already worked up enough that she could thumb a stiff nipple even through the padding of my bra. That realization caused her to release a noise into my ear, somewhere between a growl and moan, and I met the sound with a whimper of my own.

Despite how restless she’d been while trying to sleep, she seemed content to build up to sex, but then her mouth met my neck, and I’d never needed anyone so badly so fast. One of us needed to come, and I wasn’t going to wait for her to make the move. My hands slid back around to her stomach, grabbing for the button of her pants.

But her hand left my chest, shooting down to grab mine. “You first,” she panted, leaving my neck to set her forehead against mine. “It’ll make me feel better about this.” She was so eager to kiss me again that her lips skimmed mine, but she held back to say, “But only if you want. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

“Harper,” I said, and kissed her hard. “My jeans won’t unbutton themselves.”

Her lips met mine, her hand immediately undid the button of my jeans and pushed down the zipper, and she didn’t wait another moment. She slipped into the opening she’d made, beneath my underwear and straight between my legs. Her finger slid through my folds, skimming my clit on its way to my entrance and causing me to draw in a heavy gasp. 

“Shit, Brooke,” she said, collecting moisture and bringing it back up to that sensitive bundle of nerves. “You’re wet.”

I’d been wet and ready since the very moment I dared to think this was possible, but she sounded so surprised. Like she genuinely worried I wouldn’t be into this. “Don’t pretend,” I panted, tangling one hand in her gorgeous hair, “like you don’t know I’m attracted to you. You’re so fucking hot, Harper.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” Her breath faltered against my lips, but her finger froze as she whispered, “This is dangerous.”

I ground against her hand, my voice more plea than demand. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And she didn’t stop. Fuck, she didn’t stop. Her finger set back into motion as she nipped the edge of my jaw and asked, “What do you like?”

As if I wasn’t already barreling toward climax. “Soft and fast.”

“One finger or two?”

“Two,” I answered, whimpering when she adjusted immediately, cradling my clit between two fingers.

“Circles or-”

“Strokes,” I blurted, because it was the last coherent word I’d be able to get out.

She set into motion, and it was so perfect that I was completely gone in the matter of an instant. Her lips set back on my neck and she sucked hard over my pulse, and the heat of her mouth sent jolts crashing through me, ending where her fingers worked. It didn’t matter that I touched myself when she was sleeping, because her fingers were so much better than mine, and it’d been so long since someone else touched me that I was already embarrassingly close to the end. I clung to her, digging my nails into the taut muscles of her back, gripping the back of her head every time she sucked harder at my neck, trying my best to keep climax at bay, but it wasn’t working.

“I’m-,” I breathed, barely able to think over the pleasure of her touch, “close-” My back curved, the final jolts of that peaking pressure shooting through me so that all I could do was whimper, “Harper.”

She left my neck, sealing her lips over mine and kissing me deeply as I hit the finish. The pressure low in my stomach burst, and I bowed into her touch and rocked against her fingers, unable to keep loud moans from falling onto her tongue. She swallowed every one, the weight of her body keeping me grounded as I writhed beneath her, clenching against her fingers with every wave of climax that rolled through me. She slowed her touch as I came down from it, and eased her kiss to gentle pecks until she couldn’t draw another pulse out of me.

I relaxed back into the mattress with a sigh as she pulled her hand out of my pants, not bothering to catch my breath because I still wanted so badly to touch her. To feel her coming undone, but part of me was afraid she’d lose her nerve. I reached for the button of her jeans, but she pulled her hips back as she set her forehead against mine.

“Harp,” I murmured, “you did want me to touch you, right? That was the point of all this?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I just… are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“You’re unbelievable,” I laughed. “The deal was I fuck you, not let you fuck me and then call it a night.” She didn’t say anything, but she swallowed so hard I could hear it. “Lay down.”

She shifted off of me to lie on her back at my side, and I rose onto my knees between her legs. I grabbed the button of her jeans, and this time she didn’t keep me from undoing it, nor from slipping them down her hips. Her pants were tighter than mine, and I needed more room to be able to touch her, so I pulled them just past her knees where they wouldn’t restrict her movement. And I hadn’t forgotten about her body. About how hot and sexy and gorgeous she was.

 I pushed her shirt halfway up her ribs, exposing those perfect abs and then dropping forward to press an open kiss to her stomach. She inhaled a jagged breath, and when I couldn’t resist swiping my tongue beside her naval, her hands fisted in the sheets, hips pushing impatiently against the bed. God, she was hot. I kissed down to the soft skin between her hips, tracing the sharp line of her hip bone with the tip of my tongue, wanting so badly to run it over every inch of her.

The exhale she released carried a barely audible moan, but she also used it to say, “Stop.”

“Stop what?” I asked, kissing across the space between her hips.

She reached down, pulling me up so my face was level with hers. “Stop kissing me below the chest.” I didn’t say anything, but she must’ve sensed my confusion even in the dark. “Fuck, your tongue feels so good,” she whispered, kissing me so openly that her tongue skimmed over mine. “You’ll make me want you to…”

She didn’t finish, but I knew what she meant. “Maybe I want you to want it,” I said, and traced her upper lip with the tip of my tongue. I wanted to taste her. There’s no way I’d refuse if she asked.

“Don’t,” she breathed, but her mouth hung open like she didn’t have the power to resist anything I did with my tongue. “It’s too intimate, just…” And she pushed her hips up pleadingly. “Please.”

“Are you begging?” I teased.

“Brooklyn,” she muttered, the usual growl of a warning completely sabotaged by the slight whimper that left her throat. I slid my hand between her legs to address her plea, but instead of giving her exactly what she wanted, I slid one finger inside her. She drew in a deep gasp, and I couldn’t keep the breath in my own lungs either because she was so damn wet. Restless was a colossal understatement. She needed this, and she let the gasp out after a long second in a laughed, “Fuck you.”

I smiled amusedly as I dropped down to nip her bottom lip, saying, “You already did,” while I eased into her again.

“I knew you’d tease,” she muttered, sighing a moan with my next push. “I so knew it. You can’t help yourself.”

“But you came to me anyway,” I pointed out.

I hooked my finger, searching for that rough spot inside her. She whimpered and clenched around me when I found it, one hand clutching at my hip while her other grasped my shoulder, sliding up to my neck to pull my lips to hers. “You’re dangerous,” she whispered, meeting the next push of my finger with a grind of her hips.

“Why?” I asked, tasting every panted breath she released with my tongue because she could barely kiss me anymore. She didn’t answer. “Why do you keep saying that?” She shook her head, catching my lips for a brief moment before the need for air pulled her away. “Please, Harper,” I begged, “for once just tell me what you’re really thinking about me.”

Her hand left my hip to run up my back beneath my shirt, and her other left my neck to do the same, meeting it between my shoulder blades. “You feel even better than I thought you would,” she admitted, tracing the curves of my waist back down with the tips of her fingers. “Dammit, Brooke, I didn’t want you to feel this good.”

I wished I could’ve seen her face. Wished I could’ve seen her eyes when she said that, but maybe she never would’ve said it if I could see how true it was. But I felt it. I felt it in every part of me, and I wanted her to feel it too. Wanted her to want me and this and not be afraid of it. To not think it was dangerous, or to not care.

I kissed her hard, pulling out of her to finally give her what she wanted. I rolled my finger over her clit, not bothering to ask her what she liked because I’d figure it out myself. It took a minute of exploring, but then I hit a spot and a rhythm that made her cry out. She was making more noise during sex than she ever did, and suddenly, it wasn’t about the sex anymore. I kept touching her. Kept kissing her and working her toward release. But all I could think about was exactly what she was giving me, even if she didn’t know it or didn’t mean to. She was vulnerable.

She wouldn’t say it out loud, but she cared about me. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the way I wanted her to, not yet, but she cared and that went against everything she wanted. Caring about anyone makes you vulnerable, that’s what she’d said, and she never took risks, but she was doing something she thought was dangerous. And at the same time my heart soared because she was doing it with me, I also felt hollow because I knew, I just knew that it wouldn’t change anything. She only came to me because I offered, and I was torn between how much of a relief it was to feel how genuinely she wanted me, and how much it hurt that she might go back to avoiding even flirting with me when it was over.

And that made me want to savor every moment of it. I kissed her like it was the last time I ever would, and maybe it would be. I focused on the gentle delicacy of her lips and the teasing skill of her tongue, and on the feel of her flesh beneath the pads of my fingers. I committed the tenor and rasp of every sound to memory, and basked in the way my heart skipped when she finally moaned my name in warning of the nearing end.

Only moments later, she hit the peak. Her back bowed and she came undone, hands clutching at my back, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure while she moaned. I stopped the motion of my finger just to press against her and feel every pulse of climax, circling again once she slowed to draw this out for as long as I possibly could. But all too soon, the noises ended, and she let out one heavy, contented sigh as she settled back into the mattress beneath me.

I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to do anything but make this closeness and affection last, so I lowered myself onto her, unspeaking just so I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine and listen to her breathing return to normal. I buried my face in her neck, counting the beat of her pulse against my nose while I breathed her in. It only took a minute before her body stopped feeling so relaxed beneath mine. She reached down, and I lifted off her enough so she could pull her pants back up to her hips, but she was still tense when I settled back down.

Even though I wasn’t looking, I felt her gesture sideways toward the other bed as she whispered, “I should…”

But I didn’t want her to go, and I murmured into where I was still nuzzled against her neck, “Or you can stay.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you could… if you wanted to…”

She hesitated, stiff beneath me for a span of long, tense seconds while she thought about what to do. I half-expected her to shove me off and mumble about danger, but she didn’t. A few seconds later, she completely relaxed, one hand resting against my shoulder while the other went around me to set on the small of my back. I couldn’t keep from smiling and nuzzling even deeper into the crook of her neck, shoving my hands between her and the bed to wrap my arms around her. Even if this didn’t last, there were no words for how good it felt just to be close to someone again. No, that was wrong. There were no words for how good it felt to be close to Harper.