Infectious

Chapter 4 | Peril

Before opening my eyes, I stretched my arms. One of my fists hit something, and I winced. I could feel my pulse in my ankle, and my back was aching. Of course, I wasn't doing much to speed up the healing process, but I was tired of hobbling around.

"Good morning," a soft, deep voice said. Incredulous, I opened my eyes. It didn't seem to be a dream. Blake was sitting at the end of my bed, legs crossed, hunched forward, looking at me, with his rifle in his lap. How long had he been there?

I sat up instantly, only succeeding in making my head spin. I was dizzy for a few moments before my eyes focused again—on him. I held my head, and felt the shift in weight on the bed as he moved closer to me. I felt his hand on my good leg, and then he was still. My vision no longer blurred, I looked into his eyes. He was close enough for me to smell.

"I'm okay," I mumbled. I pushed the duvet away, sitting cross legged but not moving the leg his hand was on. I didn't want him to remove it, I was enjoying the tingles that spread from the point he touched to all over my leg. I noticed the pajama pants were gone, my legs were bare other than Logan's boxers. I looked down to see the shirt I had on was different too. I wanted to cry. If he'd changed my shirt, he'd seen me without one. He noticed me pulling on the shirt I wore, still incredulous. My cheeks were uncomfortably warm and I wanted to scold myself for falling asleep.

"You had bled through the bandages on your back onto the shirt." He saw me without a shirt. I could not believe I had fallen asleep and let him see me shirtless. I knew I was being stupid, he had probably seen dozens of women naked before, and I was nothing to look at, but I couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment. My face felt hot, and I kept it hung so that he couldn't see. I decided to just try to distract myself.

"What time is it?"

I couldn't really see him with my head hung, but I saw his arm moving for him to glance at his watch. It was the same arm that had been resting on my leg. I missed his touch instantly. "It's almost ten." I looked over to the window. It was light out, meaning I hadn't just slept through the whole day.

"I missed breakfast." I was genuinely sad. My stomach was growling at me. I had spent the past few weeks hardly eating at all, but it'd only taken a day for my body to start demanding more food. I wanted to run home, open my fridge and eat everything in sight. But I knew that I couldn't. There was nothing edible left, and the place was swarming with flesh-eating monsters anyway.

"I saved you some." He reached over to the dresser, his long, muscular arm covered only by a black t-shirt. I watched his muscles flex, but as soon as the plate in his hand was in sight, my eyes were on the food.

My mouth fell open when I saw what he was handing me. Someone had actually made me pancakes. I grabbed the plate and ate them both with my hands, forgetting my manners. They were cold, and not the best pancakes to begin with, but they were delicious anyway. When I was finished, I realized I had just made myself look like a total pig. I looked up at him sheepishly, and he had that amused smile on his face.

"Thanks for the food."

He was still smiling at me. I had expected him to look repulsed and run away swiftly. His lips moved slightly like he was going to speak, but he didn't. He had gelled back his hair like when we'd met, and his beard was gone, but he had left his upper lip a little hairy. I wanted to feel the tickle of his facial hair. I wanted to kiss him. Just then he licked his bottom lip, slowly, and it was as if he knew what I was thinking.

"When are we moving?" I asked.

He put my plate back on the dresser, then glanced at his watch. "Martin and Evans should be finished packing the truck within the hour."