Chapter 17: Will you hold me?

May’s face flared crimson, the heat of it like a sudden sunset.

She wanted to pull her leg back, but her body refused to obey—locked in place as if by a spell. In the dark, the two "human pillows" on either side of her stirred awake.

Jack went rigid, every muscle drawn tight as a bowstring. He could feel the soft press of the girl’s cheek against his arm, the warm, faintly milky breath spilling across his skin. He barely dared to breathe, terrified that even the slight rise of his chest would brush against her head.

Worse still... he could feel a certain part of himself growing unmistakably hard.

Jack wanted to die.

On the other side, Mitch was no better off. Something soft and smooth had suddenly settled across his leg. The startling sensation yanked him fully awake. He stiffened and looked down.

In the darkness, he could just make out a stretch of pale calf and the faintly curled, delicate toes at the end of it. The owner of that leg had carelessly draped her weight across the most dangerous place on his body.

Mitch sucked in a sharp breath, feeling half his lower half go numb. Mentally, he cursed Alex a thousand times, yet when his gaze fell on the girl’s unguarded sleeping face, the words died in his throat. He clicked his tongue in irritation, then resigned himself. Carefully, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her.

Nice work. Real smooth. Damn it.]

At the far end of the truck bed, the other men sat in perfect silence. Their eyes cut through the dark and locked onto the intimate scene of the girl sandwiched between the two of them. Three faces darkened, one after another. The air itself seemed to curdle with the sharp tang of jealousy.

When May next opened her eyes, her palm was resting against something hard and scorching. The surface was ridged and sculpted, every groove and rise distinct—like a finely carved washboard still radiating heat.

Half-asleep, she traced one of the grooves with her fingertip.

Mm. Eight-pack. Nice feel.

She was just about to explore a little farther when a tightly controlled voice exploded above her head.

"Had enough yet?"

May jolted fully awake. She jerked her head up and met a pair of bloodshot eyes that looked ready to devour her whole.

Mitch.

She looked down. Her hand was still pressed firmly against those eight defined abs. Her mind went blank with a deafening roar.

"Want to keep going lower?"

The words forced their way out between Mitch’s clenched teeth. A suspicious flush had already climbed all the way to the tips of his ears.

"I—I didn’t mean—"

May scrambled backward in pure panic, instinctively retreating toward Ray’s side, wishing she could simply vanish on the spot. The sudden movement woke the man beside her.

"Looking lively this early," Ray said, sitting up.

Mitch swore under his breath, hastily yanking his shirt down to cover the offending abs, muttering curses the whole time. Then he turned and jumped out of the truck.

One by one, the other men in the cargo bed woke up. They took in the awkward scene, their expressions growing complicated. The sour scent of jealousy thickened in the air.

May buried her face in her arms, wishing the ground would swallow her.

[Ding. Intimate contact with Strategy Target No. 5 "Mitch" detected. Target affection increased. Intense emotional fluctuation. Reward points +100.]

[Current total points: 300.]

Right then the truck gave an ominous sputter, lurched forward, and died completely.

"Out of gas," Theo called from the cab.

Everyone looked outside. Not far ahead stood an abandoned gas station, lonely beside the highway.

"Lucky break," Ray said, rolling his injured shoulder. The fever had broken and the wound was already knitting shut. He stood and began assigning tasks. "Jack, Mitch—perimeter watch. Clear any wandering zombies."

"Theo, Ace—come with me. We’ll find the tanks and pump fuel."

His gaze swept over the only non-combatant present—May—and the grinning Alex beside her.

"Alex, take her to the convenience store. Gather anything useful—food and water first. Don’t wander."

"Got it, Boss." Alex’s smile was pure sunshine. He sidled up to May and gave her sleeve a friendly tug. "May, let’s go."

Mitch watched them, then kicked a tire in irritation. Why the hell did that kid get paired with her?

The groups split and moved out at once. Alex led the way, May close behind, heading straight for the dust-caked convenience store.

The door was only half-closed. Alex pushed it open and a thick mix of dust and rotting food rolled out to meet them.

"Stick close, May," he said over his shoulder, those wide, innocent eyes full of concern.

The moment they stepped inside—

Click.

Alex locked the glass door behind them.

May’s heart skipped. Why lock it?

Before she could ask, Alex turned. The boyish innocence vanished from his face.

"May... looks like it’s just the two of us now."

"Eh??"

From behind a shelf, a zombie in a gas-station uniform lurched upright and staggered toward them.

"Ah!" May jumped and ducked behind Alex without thinking.

Alex didn’t even glance at the threat. He kept smiling at her until the zombie was almost on them, then slowly raised the gun in his hand.

Bang.

No shot came.

His expression flipped to theatrical panic.

"Oh no—looks like it’s jammed."

He grabbed her hand and began backing away, voice urgent. "Run, May! I’ll cover you!"

May watched the over-the-top performance and mentally rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left her skull.

What an actor!

The zombie’s claws were about to close on them. Alex yanked open a nearby employee locker and shoved them both inside.

Thud.

The door slammed shut.

The space was impossibly tight. May was pulled hard against a warm, solid chest; the distinctly youthful scent of him filled her nose. They were pressed together so closely there was barely room to breathe. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of Alex’s chest against her back, the frantic rhythm of his "panicked" breathing.

Outside, the zombie clawed wildly at the metal door. Inside, two heartbeats thundered in the confined dark.

In that smothering closeness, Alex’s lips brushed the shell of her ear. Warm breath, electric, raced down her spine.

Then his soft, slightly trembling voice—full of pouty grievance—whispered right against her ear.

"May... I’m so scared. Will you hold me?"