Ryan smirks sideways at me. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. He got it on with his sister to have them.”
“Sick!”
“Yeah. But we didn’t exactly pick the name. The building we’re in used to be a theater. It was called the Hyperion.”
“Original.”
“Judgmental,” he says, pointing at me.
“It’s rude to point.”
“Pot and the kettle and all that,” he mutters, dabbing ointment on his fingertips and applying it to his face.
I shrug. “I can’t help it. I was raised by wolves.”
“Wolves have better manners.”
“You hate wolves!” I protest.
“I hate a wolf,” he corrects, “and he probably still has better manners than you.”
I kick him in the shin. Not hard, but it’s enough to jostle him and his responding laugh is short lived as it turns into a grunt of pain. I’ve made him slip, digging his finger into a cut on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I say hastily, springing up to stand beside him. “Let me see.”
He lets me stand in front of him, dropping his hands down to his sides as I rise up on my toes to look.
“Do you want me to finish it?” I ask, my breath rebounding off his face back at me. I hadn’t realized I was standing so close. I meet his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. He’s staring at me, watching me. He’s patient, but he’s tense. “Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to kiss me?” I whisper.
He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Every time I go to touch you,” he says softly, “you pull away. I don’t want to crowd you. I don’t want you to run.”
I reach down with my right hand, taking hold of his. I move it until it sits heavy and warm on my hip. He follows my lead, pressing his other hand on the opposite side of my waist.
“There, see? You’re touching me and I’m still here.”
“This time,” he points out.
“I know. I’m a pain.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He kisses me softly, his hands pulling me closer to him. He’s careful of my arm this time. He pulls my hips flush with his but leans over me with his upper body. He’s holding me and hovering over me and I feel weightless and strange. And warm. His kiss, his breath, courses through me the way the vodka did, burning and churning into my stomach. His fingers find the edge of my thin t-shirt. They slip under, scorching across my skin. I start to feel anxious and so much more. So many things that I don’t understand.
I pull away.
Ryan takes his hands away, smiling that crooked smile of his and just like that, the heat fades. I can breathe again.
“We should go to bed,” I breathe, trying to bring myself down. To remind myself I’m alright.
Ryan stares are me, surprised.
I swat at him. Hard. I’m not good at being playful.
“Not like that and you know it.”
“I know,” he admits, grinning. “I know what you mean. We should get to sleep.”
When we step out of the bathroom, Ryan immediately heads for the door. He lays down slowly beside it, still being careful with his right leg.
“Goodnight,” he calls softly, settling in.
I hesitate, unsure. I don’t know what I want. Or what he wants. Or what I can handle.
“Ryan, you can—“
“No,” he says gently, turning his head to look at me. “I’m good here.”
I sigh, feeling relieved. “Do you want a blanket?”
“Do you have one to spare?”
“No, but I’ll give it to you anyway.”
He chuckles. “That’s alright, Joss. I’ve slept without one before. It won’t kill me.”
I pad across the room, carrying the blanket with me. Ryan looks up at me, watching me as I drape it over him.
I grin faintly. “And it won’t kill me to share.”
“You sure about that?”
I shrug. “Only one way to find out.”
Chapter Six
I do not die. I don’t exactly sleep, either. Ryan snores. I didn’t know this until now because the last time we had a slumber party I kicked him out before anyone fell asleep. He had to go. He was being a dick, asking questions and wanting answers. Who does that?
We expected to see Trent in the morning, but as it drags on into the afternoon, we get worried. Well, I get worried. Ryan says it’s no big deal. I suck at this, the worrying and not worrying. Knowing when it’s needed, when it’s expected and when it’s useless but you do it anyway. Exhausting. When it was just me, I didn’t have to deal with this crap. I have Ryan to thank for that and I remind myself to kick him in the shins again the next chance I get.
What we do for now is go hunting. I’m out of meat so I know Crenshaw must be too because I’m his sole supplier.
“What do you want to go for?” Ryan asks as we make our way toward the park.
“Shouldn’t we hunt somewhere else? Somewhere farther away from your home?”
He shakes his head, rolling his neck and shoulders. His back must be killing him from sleeping on the hard floor all night.
“Nah, there have been roundups around the other hunting grounds.”
My stomach flips at the thought of the Colonists. “Are they still swarming the watering holes too?”
“Not as much.”
“Have you seen them?”
He scans the roads, his face blank. “Yeah, I’ve seen them.”
I try to smile at him, to reassure him, I think? But I don’t really get why I’m doing it, so I stop.
“You okay?”
“I got out,” I say, trying to sound solid. Like with the smile, I fail. “I’m great.”
What I am is feeling guilty. It’s been too long since I made it out of the Colony. I’m sure at this point Vin and Nats think I either betrayed them or The Hive killed me on sight. Is it too jacked up to hope they think I’m dead?
“We’ll go back for them, Joss.”
I nod my head but I don’t say a word because that’s all it is. Words. None of it gets us anywhere. None of it brings us closer to where we need to be in order to free them. It’s all I can think about every day, even when I’m trying hard not to. When I’m laughing with Ryan and telling myself it’ll be okay, I can feel it gnawing at me that it’s not. That I’m failing. But I won’t sacrifice him for it either. I won’t ask him to fight for me.
“There has to be another way,” I mutter to myself.
“And we’ll find it. I promise.”
We’ve entered the woods and I stop, staring into the darkness beyond the trees. Part of me knew already but I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to break the rules any more than I already have, but I have to because he’s my last hope. My last chance at being better than I or Vin ever really were made to be.
“Gandalf.”
Ryan frowns at me, following my stare. “What?”
“Crenshaw,” I say, looking up at him. “We have to ask Crenshaw.”
“Ask him what? To help us?” he asks dubiously. “Unless he’s a real wizard and knows how to summon us a dragon, I don’t think he can do much for us.”
“But he knows things. He knows people. Maybe he knows someone who can help.”
“Someone other than The Hive,” Ryan agrees, looking into the woods again. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Let’s get a kill first, make sure we have meat to bring him. I worry about his diet.”
“People didn’t eat meat before the sickness came and they were just fine,” Ryan reminds me, falling in step beside me as we venture deeper into the woods.
“I know. I just… I worry about him. I don’t want him to get frail, I guess.”
Ryan nods in understanding. “He’s alone, like you. You want to make sure he’s strong enough to fend for himself.”