“I’m not that great,” I promised him, feeling the need to throw myself to the wolves out of fear of the unknown. “I’m kind of high maintenance.”
“At this point, Reagan, I know what I’m getting myself into,” he countered.
“But we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” I argued. “You don’t really know anything about me.”
Hendrix stood up and faced me. He casually leaned back against the counter and let his eyes travel my length, taking in each part of me. Slowly he reached for a towel- also from the bathroom- and began to dry off. But it was too late, steady streams of water had already begun to move down his chest, over the contours of lean muscle and into the dips and ridges that marked the way.
I was kind of mesmerized by the whole thing.
“That’s not true,” he finally broke the weighted silence between us. “I know that you’ve never been afraid of death, not even when I found you in that department store and you only had three bullets left and you were not afraid last night either. I know you’ve kept your best friend alive for the last two years, that you love her like family and would do anything and everything for her. I know you’ve risked your life for my family, more than once. And I know you’ve risked it for me. I know you don’t like bugs, but you do like animals and it bothers you that you haven’t seen one in a while. I know you miss your parents and your old life but you courageously keep a façade up for everyone else’s sake. I know you hate killing, that it makes you sad, but that you’re brave enough to do it anyway because you want to survive and you want those you care about to survive. You’re good, funny, beautiful and strong. And maybe there is a lot I don’t know about you yet. But what I do know, I like and admire. And the greatest adventure I can imagine living would be to get to know every piece of you that’s left to discover.”
My heart stuttered in my chest, and my throat closed with an unnamed emotion. Hendrix baffled me most of the time, infuriated me a lot of the time and called to some hidden part of me all of the time. But it was moments like this when I was convinced I was a book and he was the only one who knew how to read me- that I was music, but he was the only one that could hear me.
I didn’t believe in fate, or destiny or any other bullshit like that. How could I after I had witnessed Zombies take over the planet and kill almost everyone alive? Any higher power with good intentions had clearly moved on from this world.
But in this moment- this isolated moment in my life when time felt like it stopped and the world ceased to exist outside of these thin walls- I could almost believe Hendrix was created specifically for me.
Even if that was crazy.
“I’m not ready for any of this,” I whispered, gesturing between the two of us with my pointer finger.
“You don’t have to be,” Hendrix promised. “I’m not asking for anything, Reagan. Just maybe that you get to know me too. At least make an informed decision before you put up all those steel walls you have around you.”
I small smile tilted my lips. Maybe he did know me better than I thought.
“I’ll think about it,” I compromised without giving him his way and hiding behind those walls he was talking about.
“You’ll think about it?” He asked dryly. “That’s very magnanimous of you.”
“Well, I do what I can,” I sighed.
“Better get dressed,” he ordered, his eyes floating over my exposed skin like a caress.
“We should probably get going,” I agreed, unable to move from my spot. I couldn’t, not when he was looking at me like that- like I was a treasure, like I was worth more than bottled water and medicine.
“That and I just sounded like the best kind of guy. Really pulled out my A game. If you keep standing there half naked I’m going to ruin all that by attacking you,” he confessed with a small smile.
“Ok, I get your point,” I called out from over my shoulder as I sprinted from the kitchen. I locked myself in the master bedroom and pulled on new undies- from my backpack- yoga pants and a maroon long sleeved Razorbacks t-shirt from the woman who used to live here.
I fingered my wet hair into a low, over the shoulder braid and traded my filthy, bloody shoes for a pair of worn tennis shoes that were a size too big, but better than nothing. I finished with Chapstick- not exactly a necessity but after Hendrix’s speech I felt like I needed something to break up the no-makeup, freshly-survived look. And I was too tired to deal with actual makeup.
Although I still had plenty of eyeliner.
When I emerged from the bedroom Hendrix was already dressed and ready to go. He must have packed up all the water and food because it was nowhere in sight. His loose t-shirt and baggy jeans were all a little too big for him, but he’d grabbed a belt from the man that lived here and the shoes were a perfect fit for him. He managed to make it all look hot as hell, and even with his wet hair hanging over his eyebrows he was male perfection and a thousand percent testosterone.