Page 48 of Dating After the End of the World
“Did you just tell me to ‘turn right’ when we came to the corner of the fence? Like, as in, when the fence on my left met up with the fence in front of me to form a corner. You thought I needed to be told to turn right, the only way I can go, otherwise I’d run right into a barbed wire fence?”
Blake opens his mouth and then closes it quickly, looking behind me as he points at the fence. “I was just making sure. You can’t be too careful, and there’s nothing wrong with double-checking—”
“That I know not to run into things?”
“It’s just important to walk the actual property line and keep an eye out for weak spots. Some people think glancing up and down the fence line is good enough. It’s not. When it comes to keeping people safe, we don’t cut corners.”
I can guess who he is referring to—Greg—but I can also guess that after yesterday’s attack, no one is going to be slacking on security anymore.
“Also, you’re gonna want to walk the perimeter every ninety minutes, but you don’t have to walk the fence line beyond the woods. Just keep to the outside of them and pause to listen for any sound or movement. You can keep watch up in the sniper tower as well, but there’s no substitute for boots on the ground. I personally like to patrol every hour, but it’s up to you.” He walks out in front of me, shining his flashlight beyond the fence, making a show to be extra vigilant in his search for any dangers.
“Looks clear out here, so let me show you the sniper tower.”
“I don’t need you toshowme the sniper tower. My dad and I added that to the original house a long time ago.” I take off without waiting for him to respond. He might be the expert when it comes to recon and combat, but he doesn’t need to be a tour guide to my own childhood.
His footsteps are quick behind me. The beam of his flashlight swings wildly across the grass, spanning back and forth with each step. “You don’t have to be so difficult,” he says when he catches up to me. “I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help, and stop trying to act like you know this place better than anyone else, like we’re all little helpless lambs without Blake watching over his flock.”
“Fine, Pearson, lead the way.”
“That’s it? No arguing, no fighting? Justfine?” I shine the flashlight in his face to see whether he’s messing with me.
“Jesus,” he says, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”
“I wanted to see if you had that shit-eating grin on your face.”
“Nope, no grin at all. I’m giving you what you want and following your lead.”
“I don’t like this.”
He blurts out a laugh that echoes across the open field. “I can’t win. If I fight with you, I’m an asshole. If I agree with you, you don’t like it.”
“A Blake Morrison that isn’t putting up a fight or making things difficult is a sneaky Blake Morrison, waiting to do something far more sinister later.”
“Wow, that’s really what you think of me?”
I put my hand on his shoulder, looking at him like a parent would a child. “It’s not what I think. It’s just who you are.”
He frowns but quickly looks away, bucking my hand off him and continuing toward the sniper tower. We walk in silence for a bit.
“I liked what you said to your dad tonight,” Blake says, peering over at me.
My face hardens as I shoot him an accusatory look. “What!? You were eavesdropping on us?”
“No—not on purpose. I was already walking up, and I could hear voices, but I didn’t think anything of it. Then as I got closer, I could hear what you two were saying, and it didn’t seem appropriate to interrupt, given how personal it was.”
“But it was appropriate to just listen to the whole thing?” I trudge forward, trying to create more distance between us, but he keeps up and just keeps talking.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was one of those things where I was waiting for a minute or two to see if you guys were almost done, but then you kept talking, and I just froze ...”
I eye him suspiciously, thinking back to the conversation, racking my brain for every little nugget that I wouldn’t have said to Blake—not by choice, anyway. “You’re a Hearing Tom. Like a Peeping Tom, but much worse.”
“That’s not worse.”
“It is to me,” I say, raising my chin.
“I only brought it up because ... I ... I didn’t know about your mom—”
