Page 20 of Glitter Rose
“You’re always so neutral. I wish I could ask Telly, but then he would think I’m batshit crazy. I’ll need to restock anyway. One quick run in a few days. In and out. I know where the good stuff is.” I run my thumb over the pasta package again. “And maybe if he likes the pasta enough, he’ll stay another day or two?”
“You need help?” He sets aside the comic book.
I flinch, straightening. “No. All good.”
“Okay.” He stretches back.
He didn’t hear me, right? I mean, I whispered.
I stir the pasta, testing its resistance against the wooden spoon. “Three more minutes.”
I twist the jar of sun-dried tomatoes open, releasing the scent of garlic and herbs suspended in oil. Yum. I drain the pasta in my colander, steam fogging my face, then toss it with the oil, tomatoes, and fresh basil into the pot, letting it fry.
“You sure I can’t help?” Knox stands, testing his weight on his injured ankle.
“Just sit.”
He settles into a chair at the table as I carry the pasta over, then grab plates and forks. I pour two glasses of red wine and place them next to our plates. Almost like cooking for a boyfriend…
I raise my glass. “To surviving another day.”
“To unexpected hospitality.” He clinks his glass with mine.
The pasta tastes even better than it smells, the sharp tang of tomatoes balanced by the fresh sweetness of basil.
“So.” I twirl pasta around my fork. “Where were you headed when my fire escape interrupted your journey?”
He chews slowly, his face revealing nothing. “Reconnaissance.”
“Of what?”
“The area. I map safe zones, resources, zombie clusters.”
“For yourself, or…?”
“It’s good to know the territory.”
Non-answer. I need another angle. “How long have you been out there?”
“Since the beginning.” His eyes meet mine, then slide away.
“Where do you sleep? When you’re not falling off buildings, I mean.”
“Wherever’s safe.” He takes another bite. “This is good.”
He’s not going to tell me. And he’s definitely not going to ask me to come with him. Would I even want that? “You’re very skilled at not answering questions.”
“You’re not very skilled at asking them.”
“Fine.” I refill our wine glasses. “Safer topics. Favorite movie?”
“Die Hard.”
“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, because it’s realistic?”
“Because it’s entertaining.” Something in his expression softens. “Yours?”
“Pride and Prejudice. The Keira Knightley version. Did you know there’s also one with zombies?”
