Zombie Guy

Chapter 28: The Final Day

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the small room in a soft golden glow. Jaime was already up, rummaging through her bag as she hummed a tune that sounded suspiciously off-key. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped tightly as I tried to steady the nervous energy twisting in my stomach.

"Alright," I said, clearing my throat. "What do you think about going on a date today?"

Jaime froze, slowly turning to face me with a raised eyebrow. "A date?" she repeated, her tone equal parts surprise and amusement. "You mean, like, flowers and candles and awkward small talk kind of date?"

"Not that kind of date," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Just... you know, something nice. A real day out. No zombies, no labs, no chaos. Just us."

Her lips twitched, and then she burst out laughing. "Kevin Winslow, are you asking me out right now? Because, buddy, this is *adorable*."

I groaned, already regretting my choice of words. "Forget I said anything."

"Oh, no," she said, grinning as she walked over and grabbed my hand. "You don't get to take it back. I'd love to go on a date with you."

I rolled my eyes, but her laughter melted the tension in my chest. "Great. Just... don't make fun of me too much, okay?"

"No promises," she said, winking. "Now go get ready. I'm not being seen with you looking like that."

---

We both dressed up—Jaime in a casual sundress that made her look effortlessly radiant, and me in the only button-down shirt I owned that wasn't ripped or stained. When I walked out of the room, her eyes widened slightly before she quickly masked her expression with mock indifference.

"Well, well," she said, circling me like a predator eyeing its prey. "You clean up surprisingly well. Almost like a real person."

"Thanks, I think," I said, chuckling. "And you look amazing."

She smirked, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks as she grabbed her bag. "Come on, let's see if this date of yours is worth the hype."

---

We spent the day wandering through the town, starting with a small arcade that had clearly seen better days. Jaime immediately gravitated toward a claw machine, declaring she was "born to win." After several failed attempts and a growing pile of quarters on the floor, I took over and, with one lucky grab, snagged a small stuffed rabbit.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, taking the prize from me. "You steal my victory and expect me to be impressed?"

"You *are* impressed," I said, grinning.

She didn't deny it.

Lunch was at a quaint café with mismatched chairs and walls covered in vintage posters. Jaime ordered the most ridiculous dessert on the menu—a tower of waffles drizzled with chocolate and topped with whipped cream—and then proceeded to smear half of it on her face.

"You've got..." I said, gesturing vaguely at her chin.

"Oh, really?" she said, smirking as she smeared whipped cream on my nose. "Better?"

"You're impossible," I said, laughing as I wiped it off.

"That's why you love me," she said, grinning.

The afternoon was filled with more laughter and light-hearted moments. We played a game of mini-golf, during which Jaime pretended to be a professional golfer while I managed to lose my ball in the water hazard twice. She joked that she'd "carry the team" if we were ever stuck on a desert island with a golf course.

As the sun began to set, we walked through a small park, the golden light casting everything in a warm glow. Jaime started talking about all the things we could do once we got back home—road trips, movie marathons, even building a treehouse for no reason other than that she thought it would be fun.

I nodded along, adding my own ideas, but every word felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Not when she looked so happy.

---

That night, as we made our way back to the bed-and-breakfast, we walked hand in hand. Her fingers were warm and steady in mine, grounding me in a way I hadn't felt in years. We didn't say much, content to let the quiet fill the space between us.

When we reached the room, Jaime yawned and stretched before collapsing onto the bed. "That was perfect," she said, her voice drowsy. "You're not bad at this dating thing, you know."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said softly.

She smiled at me, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep quickly claimed her. I stayed where I was, watching her for a long time. Her breathing was slow and even, her face relaxed and peaceful. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and the thought of leaving her made my heart feel like it was being torn in two.

I stood and grabbed the piece of paper I'd tucked into my bag earlier. Sitting at the small desk, I wrote a note—everything I couldn't say out loud. When I finished, I folded it neatly and placed it on the bedside table.

Leaning over her, I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She didn't stir, her lips slightly parted as she slept. I hesitated for a moment, then bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was brief, but it held everything I felt—love, regret, and the overwhelming weight of goodbye.

As I pulled back, tears blurred my vision. I whispered, "I love you, Jaime," knowing she couldn't hear me.

With one last look, I turned and walked out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind me echoing in my ears. My chest felt like it was caving in, each step heavier than the last.

*This is for her,* I told myself. *This is the only way.*

But the thought brought no comfort. Only the crushing realization that I might never see her again.