Infectious

Chapter 2 | Laceration

I woke the next morning feeling well rested. It was something I'd forgotten in the last few weeks, how wonderful a comfortable bed could make you feel. Logan's arm was draped around my waist, heavy and uncomfortable. I slipped out from under it carefully, but he stirred for a moment. I stood completely still, and then he stopped. I was just about to open the drawer and find pants when there was a knock at the door.

I crept over to it quickly, hoping they wouldn't knock again. I wanted Logan to rest; he had that raid to go on later.

I opened the door as quietly as possible. Blake stood before me. He was dressed already, in black jeans, combat boots, and a green military style buttoned shirt. His expression was blank, until he saw me.

Though Logan's shirt was a dress on me, his boxers peeked out from underneath. Blake's jaw clenched and he motioned for me to join him out in the hall, stepping out of the way. I pulled the shirt down a little further. His eyes still lingered on my attire, and I noticed, with hot cheeks, that my nipples were erect and visible. I wanted to cross my arms, but I didn't want to be too obvious either.

"Breakfast is served. Evans is expected to be ready to leave in a half hour." I pondered, for a moment, why he always called him by his last name.

I nodded. "I'll wake him up."

His lips were, again, in a thin line. He knew we slept together. Maybe something else was bothering him, but somehow, I thought it might be that I was in Logan's t-shirt and boxers after spending the night in his bed.

"He's not necessary to our incursion if he needs more sleep," Blake surprised me. He cared about Logan that much?

"I'll ask him," I said, turning on my heel to do just that. Blake's hand caught my shoulder, stopping me.

"He had a late night. It's fine."

"O-okay," I whispered, not sure of what to do.

"Let's get you some pants." His voice was soft, and so were his eyes when I turned to look into them. He held my gaze for a few seconds before walking towards what I presumed was his room. I half expected to see Candy in his bed, but it was made and empty.

He opened a drawer, which was full of pajama pants and sweatpants. I waited for him to give me a pair, but he waved his hand for me to choose my own. I noticed his rifle sitting on top of the dresser. "Do you go anywhere without it?"

He had that same amused look on his face as before. I picked a pair of dark grey sweatpants, and I was surprised to feel how soft and clean they were. They did laundry?

"It's for good measure," he said, repeating what he had last night.

"Zombies get in here?"

"The undead are less of a threat than the living, I find."

I gaped at him for a moment, though the image of the man I'd set on fire was fresh in my mind. I was a murderer too.

"You don't think you can trust everyone here?"

"I trust the people I keep with me in this house and the people who guard it when I'm asleep."

"I trust whoever Logan trusts," I said, stepping into his pants. He watched me, his eyes on my bare thighs. I hadn't shaved in a few weeks, and the hairs were standing. There was no heating in the house, and a shiver went down my spine.

He opened another drawer and handed me a plain black sweater. It was as huge as the pants, and I looked like one of those people in a weight loss ad wearing their old clothes.

"It's not my place to say, but I find Evans a little too credulous."

I snorted. Not the Logan I knew. "What makes you say that?"