Love, Romance And A Boy (bxb)

Part Eleven

Part Eleven

•••

Night turns into morning, and I slowly open my eyes. Birds sing above, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the rough night. I crane my neck to the right and see Scott still fast asleep against the tree. His hair is a wild mess, but it somehow looks endearing.

I massage my sore shoulder and feel my stomach growl with hunger. We haven't had a proper meal in two days. Sitting against the oak tree, I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tightly. The thought lingers—are we going to make it out alive?

Scott stirs, groaning as he wakes. His hair is a mess, and he looks like he's just rolled out of bed. He stretches, rubbing his shoulders and spinning his neck before dropping to the ground to do push-ups.

Seriously? This guy is out of his mind.

I try to hide my amusement. "Do you think we're going to get out of here?"

Scott pauses his push-ups and looks at me, his brown eyes softening. "Of course, my squirrel," he says with a playful grin. He moves closer, gently placing his hands on either side of my face. "We'll be okay. As long as we stick together, we're going to make it out. I promise."

I nod, closing my eyes for a moment. His sudden peck on the lips surprises me, and I open my eyes to glare at him.

"Maybe it's—"

"We should get going," Scott interrupts, glancing into the distance. "My gut is telling me we should head that way."

I push myself up from the ground, dusting off my backside. "Do you always trust your gut?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "Because I don't."

"That's the thing," he says, glancing at me briefly. "You need to learn to trust me. Come on, let's move."

I follow him, trying to ignore the persistent hunger pangs in my stomach. The ground is moist and uneven, and my legs feel like they're on fire. I miss home—the comfort of my bed, my sister's annoying voice, my optimistic best friend, and my loving mother. It feels like we'll never find help, and I'm beginning to convince myself we're doomed.

It's been over three days with no sign of rescue, just a bizarre encounter with a local who tried to shoot us. The thought of dying here, alone and forgotten, hits hard. The sting of tears starts to build, but I quickly wipe them away. I don't want to show any weakness. I need to be strong for both of us, just as Scott insists we should be.

Scott suddenly tosses me his hoodie. I fumble to catch it, and it lands comically over my face. He laughs, and I slide it on, trying to get warm. The sleeves hang past my hands, and I show him with a mock pout. "You really need to stop growing. This hoodie is practically eating me alive."

Scott wraps it around his waist, his grin wide. "You still rock it, though. It's like you're starting a new trend."

I smile despite myself. "First of all, I rock everything I wear because I have a sense of fashion," I tease. "Or at least one of us does."

"Hey, I heard that," Scott says, walking closer.

I brace myself for the kiss I know is coming and take a step back, not wanting to be part of this right now. Scott reaches out, his hands calm and reassuring. "Zayn," he says slowly, "I know what you're thinking. But that's not it. Trust me."