NUMB

Day Thirty-Four - Elyse (pt. 2)

When I sneak into the east corridor, Jet is already there. He is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, facing the door to one of the rooms back here. He has a black box in his hand with an antenna that sticks out a good five inches from the top. A walkie.

The Wardens have them on their belts, but theirs are smaller and rounder than the one Jet is holding. I am not able to sneak up on him. My shoes squeak once and he turns his head towards me.

He starts to get up, but stops when I slide down against the wall until I'm sitting next to him. He shifts, puts his legs out straight in front of him and lets his chin rest on his shoulder as his eyes roam over me. I sit with my arms wrapped around my knees, press my cheek to my forearm and meet his gaze.

"Hi," he says, a grin cracking his lips.

"Hi," I say.

It's been four days since I have spoken to Jet. Four days and I can't stop the fluttering in my chest as he stares at me. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and releases it. I do not know what to say to him. I do not want to tell him about how I could feel, but now it is gone. I do not want to tell him that I am experiencing emotions. I do not want to tell him, but I do not know why. I bury my face in my elbow and inhale slowly.

"Have you talked to Seth or Tasha?" I ask.

His shoulders droop and he exhales louder than I think is necessary. But then he's pulling his legs closer to himself and rubbing his free hand on his thigh. He taps the walkie against his knee a couple of times before eyeing me. "Yeah, I talked to Tasha. She's still being stubborn. But Seth is M.I.A. I've got absolutely no idea where he is or what he's doing." He holds the walkie up and then sets it on his leg. "He's still not responding."

"I'm sure he'll contact you soon." I say as I sit up straight, folding one leg and pressing the sole of my shoe against the inside of the opposite thigh. I play with a loose string on the seam of my shoe and try not to notice how Jet has shifted closer to me.

"Yeah, but the waiting is killing me. And Beck is killing me." He pretends to bang his head against the wall behind him repeatedly. "He keeps hovering around me, like I don't know how to do my damn job. And he talks constantly, about everything and nothing. I think he just likes the sound of his own voice. God, today he was telling me about this one time when him and his buddies went to—" Jet stops, turns his whole body so he's facing me. "What? What's that face for? Are you...are you smiling right now?"

I touch my mouth for a moment and then school my face into blankness. "I do not know what you are talking about."

Jet laughs, loudly. It echoes off the walls and makes me worry someone will hear us. I lean towards him and cover his mouth with my hand, immediately regretting the action because I can feel his lips pressed against my skin. Fire erupts beneath the skin on my face.

"Shush," I say, despite the fact that my hands are trembling. "Someone will hear you."

Jet says something, but it's muffled by my hand. I quickly pull away from him and cradle my hand against my chest. Jet's eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed.

Footsteps approaching from behind put a stop to whatever was about to come out of his mouth. I look over my shoulder and see the rest of the group heading towards us. Jet and I both stand up and put some distance between ourselves—Jet clipping the walkie onto his belt as he takes two steps to the side.

Krysta has her arm thrown over Quinn's shoulders and she's saying something in his ear that has his face flushing crimson. I wonder how it is that those two have become friends after what happened between them.