Page 40 of Doomsdate

“What if you teach me how to”—she pauses, her eyes fluttering closed as if she’s summoning her courage. When they reopen a second later, her pale blue irises stand out like steel against her vivid pink cheeks. “How to fuck?”

Maisie

Everett’s eyes are the size of full moons behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

My mouth goes dry while I watch him try, and fail, to form words with his own.

My eyes squeeze shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I do that? Why did I say that?!

It was just so strangely endearing watching this sweet, handsome, nerdy professor come to life over the subject he loves, I…lost my head. While his eyes lit up as he described various fictional zombie viruses and their origins, his hair flopping into his eyes only for him to shove it out of the way again, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d like to learn other things from him, too. The things he started to show me, to teach me, when I had him pressed up against my front door. The little groans he made as his hands traveled down my ribs, thumbs trailing across my nipples. I’ve been replaying those sensations all day. Not on purpose or anything, just when his large hand grazes mine, or zips up his coat, or really, anytime I feel the heat of his body on my skin. And as much as I enjoyed tonight’s zombie lesson, we have two more days of driving and one night left together. Spending it talking about zombies isn’t what I want to do.

My birthday is in five days. There’s still time.

But he’s just sitting there, staring at me, his hand frozen against my thigh. I don’t think he realizes how hard he’s gripping it.

“Listen,” I manage. “The reason I was so desperate to get you back to my place last night was because I was determined not to go through another lockdown a virgin. And yet, here I am, in even worse circumstances, with even fewer options.”

He blinks at me, stunned, and I rack my brain for how to put it better.

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, the options are limited, but I…got lucky, I guess, to be on this doomsdate with you.” I try to smile. “I think, if you’re willing, you’d make a great, um. Professor. For that, as well.”

Crimson floods Everett’s neck, crawling up his jaw, ending on his strong cheekbones. An instant of hunger flashes in his eyes, which drop from mine to my lips, then back. Heat flares within me, low in my belly. I half expect him to take me in his hands and lift me to his mouth right now.

Just as fast, concern clouds over the raw want I thought I saw in his eyes.

“Maisie, I’m—I’m incredibly flattered, but we’re traveling together for the next few days, maybe more. What if sex makes things complicated between us?”

“It won’t,” I rush out. “I promise. I’m not looking for love or anything, I just want to have sex. One time, and we can be done.”

He doesn’t look convinced, and suddenly, I realize what he’s actually saying. I place my hand on his jittering leg, and he freezes. “Even if this trip goes badly, if you piss me off or hurt my feelings or never manage to hold your own in a zombie fight, I will still get you to your sister. Then, when it’s time for me to leave you in D.C., I will.” I give him a small smile. “No Misery scenarios, I promise. And in case it’s not clear, you can say no to me right now, and it won’t change a thing. I will help you no matter what.”

But please don’t say no! I silently beg. I know my thirtieth-birthday sex deadline is a ridiculous thing to worry about when the country has gone to hell, but it’s one problem that, maybe, I can fix. One thing I can control. One bright light in this sea of darkness we’re swimming in.

Also, I just really want to kiss him again.

“So you want sex lessons…” Everett trails off, his eyes finally registering his hand still on my thigh. He releases it suddenly, and I do the same to his.

“Yes.”

“From me.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Yes.”

He raises his eyes to mine slowly, timorously. “Can I—think about it?”

I blink, trying to hide how the hesitation stings. I’m attractive. My pubic hair is already shorn. Am I really that weird that he’d rather spend the zombie apocalypse not getting off?

I knew I shouldn’t have told him about Mom.

“Yeah, sure.” My voice is distant, but I plaster on a smile. Cannot let this get weird right after I promised it wouldn’t.

“Maisie, I…” he begins, and he has that tone, that I’m about to disappoint you tone. It makes my stomach clench. “It’s just—the locks on your door. Your past. Your apartment was full of weapons. You clearly have trust issues.”

“So?” I fold my arms over my chest tight enough to hurt. “I’m working through them.”

“But you trust me enough now to…” He stops, swallows. “Do that together? Really?”

“You know what? I’m tired. Forget I asked. Can you take first watch?” I stand quickly, then thumb toward the tent. “I know it’s empty out here, but if we’re sleeping outside, I think it’s best we take turns staying awake.”