Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
I start to walk away from where she’s sitting.
My footsteps tap the tile floor, echoing in the space as I explore the aisles, running my fingers along the dusty shelves.
This place is surprisingly well-stocked. Something tells me it’s only been closed for a few months. . . maybe a year. That also means some of this food might still be good.
I rummage through the items and grin when I find what I’m looking for.
“Bingo,” I mutter under my breath.
Food.
The shelves are pretty bare, but there are a few cans of lord knows what. I keep going, bending down to see what type of candy bars I can find. The plastic is dusty, but some of these might do the trick.
I see chips, too, and grab them as well.
“I found Twinkies.” I wave a pack in the air.
These things could survive a nuclear war.
Molly jumps up from where she’s sitting, ready to take some of the food out of my hands. “Pass. I’m not that desperate.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I shoot back.
“Funny,” she mutters just loud enough for me to hear her.
If it were lighter out, I would bet my last snack she also rolled her eyes at me.
The only thing I can see is that she’s watching me.
I head back to her, pulling my phone from my pocket and switching on its flashlight. The beam cuts through the gloom as I stand beside her.
“What else did you bring?” she asks.
“Not much. It was slim pickings.”
Her brow furrows. “How do you know it’s good?”
I grin. “Because everyone knows these babies will last through an apocalypse.”
I place the Twinkie in her hand, watching as her fingers trace the wrapper.
Molly stares at it, then raises an eyebrow at me. “So you actually did get Twinkies? I thought you were messing with me.”
I nod. “Of course, I did. I never mess around when it comes to Twinkies or Girl Scout cookies, but unfortunately, we are all out of those.”
“You’re fired.”
“I got chips, though. But we should check the dates on those.”
“And not on the Twinkies?” she asks, her lips quirking up slightly.
“Everyone knows Twinkies don’t go bad.”
“That’s BS,” she says, shaking her head.
“Guess we’ll find out.” I tear open the wrapper and hold it out to her. “Ladies first.”
She crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall. “No. I insist you go first since you found it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Basically, you want to see if I die first?”
“Yeah.”
“Real nice, Hex,” I mutter before taking a bite.
It’s just as good as I remember it to be. I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid.
I grin, chewing dramatically. “Yum . . .”
She rolls her eyes and starts to eat, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Side by side, we eat in silence. Things feel normal—or as normal as they can be when you’re sitting on the floor of an abandoned gas station eating Twinkies during a tornado.
But then the building shakes, and Molly flinches, her body tense.
There’s a very good chance the windows will shatter. Hopefully, the glass is tempered, but from here, I can’t tell, and I certainly won’t be getting up to check.
That would require leaving Molly alone.
Speaking of Molly, she stiffens beside me, glancing up at the ceiling.
There’s an ominous feeling in the air as the night sky illuminates with a fresh crack of lightning, and the entire building shudders again.
“Oh my God.”
“Relax. Everything will be fine—”
As if Mother Nature has a sick sense of humor, a deafening crack cuts me off as if to challenge me. Molly jerks so hard, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself if she doesn’t calm down.
I set aside the Twinkies and move closer. “Molly.”
“I don’t want to die here,” she blurts out.
“You’re not going to,” I respond firmly.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t mean just the tornado. I mean . . . like this. Trapped in this shitty gas station with you.”
“Ouch.” I press a hand to my chest in mock pain, but I need her feisty attitude right now. That’s how she’ll push away the fear. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yet here we are.” I lean in. “What are you gonna do about it?”
All of a sudden, she grabs my shirt, yanks me down to her level, and kisses me.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s hard. And passionate.
It’s hate and want. Fear and survival.
Raw and unpolished.
Driven by adrenaline and something else.
Defiance.
I can’t help but smirk against her lips. “I thought this was a mistake.”
“Fuck the mistake. Just make me forget.”
I let my thumb trace the delicate line of her neck before leaning down and capturing her lips again.
With my other hand, I cup the back of her neck, pulling us closer until no space exists between us.
She clings to me, her fingers fisted in my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll let her go.