𝒍𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 ➶ [ s. walsh ]

xxii. | ❝ i've missed this. ❞

LOLITA.
xxii. | ❝ i've missed this. ❞

✧

CASSANDRA SKIDDED to a halt at the end of the alcohol aisle - where Shane stood, examining various bottles of brandy - with arm-fulls of chocolate, crisps, and assorted sweets clutched to her chest and an expression of pure joy radiating from her pert features. The auburn-haired temptress approached the trolley with a child-like gait riddled with excitement, before dropping her provisions into the metal cage carelessly.

"No wonder America is full of fat people," Cassandra quipped, lost in the normality of their little shopping trip and forgetting - just for a moment - that the population was now made up of emaciated walking corpses.

"You callin' me fat?"

"Never." The redhead breezed past him, precocious as ever as she gazed up at him from beneath long, coal-black lashes. "Although... I've never seen you without a shirt on. You could be hiding a big old beer gut under there."

"Smart-mouthed little bitch," the dark-eyed deputy chuckled, reaching towards her and flicking her pert nose playfully.

By the time the pair had left the store and packed their mountain of groceries into the boot of the car, it had began to rain heavily. It cut through the sweltering Georgia heat the way a child's teeth might slide through ice cream, and Cassandra, high on life, couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh as she felt the water dripping down the back of her shirt and turning her hair to rats' tails.

"I've missed this." It reminded her of summer back in England; nights spent lying awake with her windows open while she relished the earthy musk that enveloped her.

She forgot, sometimes, that there would be no return to normality. No matter how much she prayed, with eyes squeezed shut and clammy hands clasped together, there was no way of knowing if the virus had travelled as far as Europe. Any way contacting her family and making sure they were safe had vanished when her phone signal did.

The wave of homesickness that threatened to wash over her tiny body melted away as soon as it came. Shane's large arm was wrapped around her, pulling her into his soaked shirt. "C'mon, princess. Let's go home."

Flirtatious banter and playful bickering had been the rule of thumb ever since they had met in the woods, but their journey home was one of silence. Every glance Shane threw her way while he drove wasn't enough to lessen the ache that Cassandra's beauty caused. Her strawberry blonde curls had started to dry into a tangle of damp tendrils, and her clothes clung to her petite frame. Her temple was resting against the cool window pane and her long lashes cast a shadow upon her cheekbones below, but she wasn't asleep. That much Shane knew.

So strong was the bond that Cassandra and her curly-haired saviour shared, both could tell exactly when the other was retreating into the darkest corners of their minds. And they fought like cat and dog, or like adult and surly teenager, but they always coaxed one another back with a gentle touch and a murmur. That was their minds intertwining before their bodies did.

His connection with the flame-haired nymphet was the only one that had ever existed to him, now. He had never felt such intimacy, such an urge to protect and provide. The girlfriends he had in high-school - even while he was in the police - had all been purely physical. His fling with Lori Grimes had been no different.

Cassandra made him feel things. But he wasn't afraid. He told himself that as he reached for her hand, suddenly unable to go a moment without being close to her. And despite it all, Cassandra couldn't help the surge of warmth that unfurled within her beating chest when she felt Shane's roughened fingers graze hers.

⠀༚⠀⠀༷⠀⠀ྃ