Page 73 of Dating After the End of the World
“Yeah.” My voice cracks as I reach my arms up toward the ceiling yet again, spreading my fingers as wide as they’ll go.
“Why?” Blake’s tone is a mixture of confusion and anticipation, as if he’s hoping for a certain response but expecting another.
I take a second to respond, not sure of the answer myself. “I just figured ... you wouldn’t wanna be alone.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says out loud, but I can hear through his words the true sentiment, which is that he’s glad I did.
“I know.”
“You could’ve had our room all to yourself. Hell, you could’ve even pushed our beds together and made one big mega bed. Slept like a queen.” Blake is staring off as though he is daydreaming about the idea of getting a good night’s rest in a massive bed himself.
“Came up with that idea pretty quickly. Is that what you used to do before I showed up?” I cross my arms, waiting for his response.
He shakes his head, laughing a bit before answering. “No, I got used to a tiny single bed in the military. Anything bigger is just wasted on me.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been the same without you in it, and by that, I mean miserable and ...” I force a laugh as my voice trails off and silence replaces my tired banter. We both know we’re putting off talking about the elephant in the room, the inevitable deadline fast approaching.
“How’re you feeling?” The doctor side of me kicks in, wanting to assess his health changes from yesterday to gauge the direction he’s heading in. I’m not sure if there are any actual indicators as to whether a person is going to change into a biter, but it’s worth trying to find out. I mean, we really don’t know anything, minus my theory on Nomes auto changing into biters when bitten. Even that, I want to keep to us because I don’t know for sure, and there’s no sense in scaring everyone else. It could be something we deal with a long way down the road, but right now, I’m only focused on today and Blake.
“Fine. I mean, I feel off. I’m sweating bullets, as if I were sitting in a sauna rather than in a cold basement.” He tugs on his T-shirt to air it out. “And I’ve got a splitting headache, but other than that, I feel great. Plus, I’m not a biter, so I can’t really complain now, can I?”
I pull my lips into a tight smile and nod, trying to remain positive and encouraging of the current situation. But I can see how red his face is, the sweat beads forming on his forehead and throughout his buzzed hair, like drops of dew on the morning grass. The veins near his temples are even more prominent than before. They’re pulsating, his body tryingto feed blood to his brain, quelling the headache that won’t subside. He gets to his feet and stretches his arms over his head before bringing them back down to his sides.
“It’s not long now, is it?” he asks, looking to me with a solemn face.
Blake surrendered his watch to me last night, unable to deal with the torture of constantly checking the time ticking away, creeping in on his binary fate.
I glance down at his watch hanging loosely around my wrist, a couple of sizes too big. The numbers tell me there’re less than ten minutes before the story of Blake’s life either adds a new, harrowing chapter or comes to an abrupt halt.
“No ... not long,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
He nods in response, biting down on his lip as he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh.
“By the way ...” I add.
He snaps his eyes open in response.
“If you pretend to turn into a biter, I’m just gonna shoot you in the face. No hesitation whatsoever.” I lift my shirt, showing off the pistol tucked in the waistband of my pants. “So no jokes this time.”
“Oh, really?” Blake walks to his cell door, slipping his arms through the metal bars and letting them rest there. He never takes his eyes off me. “You think you could do that? You think you have the stones to just shoot me.” He snaps his fingers, loud and quick. “Just like that.”
“How do you think I got so good with my throwing stars?”
Blake cocks his head to the side, waiting for my answer.
“I pictured your face on the target. That’s why I never miss.”
He can’t help but smile. “Wow. All those years of practice, and you were thinking of me the whole time.” He cups his hands together, tucking them under his chin, batting his eyelashes.
“Thinking of killing you, yes.” My voice is stern, not letting his charm get the upper hand.
“Still counts.” He shrugs slightly. “I was in your thoughts.”
I walk to the cell, ready to swat at one of his arms or give it a slight tug, just to mess with him, but the closer I get, the more I can see how badly he’s holding up.
“Blake, are you sure you’re all right?” Sweat drips down his skin, collecting on the tip of his nose and his chin before falling to the floor in large droplets.
“Yeah.” He coughs out his answer and uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his brow. It’s only dry for a second before sweat seeps from his pores again, making his forehead look like a clear night sky speckled with countless glistening lights dazzling their brilliance against one another. He focuses on me, ignoring the effects of whatever’s going on inside him. It’s clear from the look he’s giving me that my face is revealing words I’ve left unspoken.
