Page 54 of Doomsdate

“I know, Gramps. I’ll be there soon.”

“What’s wrong, Maisie-girl? You sound sad.” His voice hardens. “That boy didn’t do anything to upset you, did he?”

I love Gramps, but I’d sooner tell him about a sex dream than relay what went down last night. How I spun from nerves to a heated, mesmerizing lust I’d never imagined, all cut off by a bone-deep mortification and the need to flee. Everett’s earnest words kept me up half the night, replaying in my head.

I couldn’t take my eyes off you, and

I want you, Maisie, and

God, Maisie. You’re so damn pretty.

I keep alternating between swooning and reeling from embarrassment, my heart slipping from one emotion back to the other, over and over. I’m exhausted from trying to understand what I’m feeling. More than anything, I’m incredibly disappointed.

“I’m fine,” I answer, hearing the detachment in my own voice and knowing Gramps will, too. “I’m dropping him off in a few hours, and—then I’ll be on my own.” The words track dread and regret all over my chest. “I’ll miss his cat. That’s all.”

“His cat? The boy has a cat?” Gramps scoffs. “We’ll find us a dog once you get here, Maisie-girl, and you’ll forget all about that mangy little hiss-box.”

I roll my eyes, though a dog does sound pretty nice. No offense to Walter, but I’m ready for a pet that actually loves me back.

“Now, you hurry up and come on home, Maisie. You still have two days of driving ahead of you at the rate you’re going, and the frequencies are dropping one by one. The country’s turned, from what I can tell, and there isn’t anything good out there waiting for you. You go into D.C., and then you get right back out. Take no risks, you hear me?”

“I hear you, Gramps. I better go. Gotta get the rig packed up and get on the road.”

“Ten-four, sweetheart. Can’t wait to hear from you again.”

“Ten-four, Gramps.”

“And Maisie-girl?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be fine without that boy. You don’t need him or his cat. Survival is the most important thing now.”

Is it, though?

We sign off again, and I slowly put my room to rights. The sun’s just peeking above the horizon, the full day ahead. I can’t say that I’m excited to greet it. A profound feeling of regret squeezes my chest. My one chance to have sex with Everett came and went, and I couldn’t see it through. Finding out he didn’t choose to meet me hit like a gut punch, knocking all the confidence out of me. But I was starting to freak out even before that, if I’m being honest. Just—the number of pure feelings zinging through me. Is all sex like that? If I’d taken Tyler up on his many offers to “hit that ass, weirdo,” would my body have responded the same way?

I gag on reflex. Impossible.

I stuff my things into my knapsack and stare at the day’s clothes, laid out and waiting on my bed. But if sex isn’t always like that, does that mean there’s something special between me and Everett?

I want you, Maisie. And I think you know just how bad.

His voice churned with heat as he said those words to me last night. And the scariest part, what made me run from that room, was that I believe him. I know I shouldn’t after all the lies and omissions, after all the ups and downs he’s already put me through, but everything in my heart is screaming that he meant it. That he wants me as much as I want him.

But how can I trust my own judgment now, when my heart’s saying one thing, and my brain, my history, and all the voices in my head that won’t leave me alone are ordering me to retreat, to pull up the drawbridge, to shoot all trespassers on sight?

What is right? What is real? And how the hell am I supposed to know?

I have no clue. And now here I am, still a virgin, more confused than ever, and two days away from holing up in a bunker for the rest of this apocalypse, and, maybe, my life.

With Gramps.

I groan into my palms.

After I dress, I hoist my knapsack onto my shoulder, then feel around in my fleece’s pockets for the keys.

They’re not there.