Page 53 of The Storm

There’sa dull headache sitting at the back of my skull.

We end up lying on the floor, legs in opposite directions, heads together. The air is marginally fresher on the floor. Or maybe I’m imagining it. It’s difficult to say.

“What if nobody comes?” I say quietly.

Nick is silent for a bit.

He clears his throat.

“They will.” He sounds so forceful, like he can get us out of here with sheer will and determination. He turns his head just a bit so when he speaks next, his lips touch my cheekbone the slightest bit. “We don’t know what the hell’s happening out there, but if that tornado tore through town, things are fucked up, and rescue will just take more time. They will come, and all of this? It’ll just be an interesting story you tell people.”

I close my eyes. “About that time a building collapsed on me, and I peed in an empty water bottle?”

“It’ll be hardnotto get laid with that in your dating profile.”

“Fingers crossed,” I say.

I stare into the darkness above us and try not to imagine the whole building, the debris, the rubble, all stacked on top of us.

“I keep thinking about trees,” I say absently.

“What about them?” Nick asks. He doesn’t sound surprised or taken aback by the out-of-nowhere topic change.

“I’ve never seen a giant sequoia. They’re supposed to be majestic.”

“They are.”

I turn my head. Now our noses are touching.

“You’ve seen one?”

“We used to take road trips,” he says. “Lots of national parks on the agenda. They’re affordable when you’re on a budget. Mom was always so apologetic about us not going to amusement parks instead, but...” He lets the sentence trail off unfinished, and his shoulder moves in a shrug. “I don’t like heights anyway.”

I raise my brows. “That’s the first time you’ve admitted feeling fear. I have to rethink everything I know about you now.”

“I’m notafraidof heights. I just don’t like them.”

I lift my hand and aim it awkwardly over my head to pat his cheek. “You’re so tough. Who’s my big, tough guy?”

He slaps my hand away, but then he’s laughing.

“I don’t like you,” he says, but nobody who doesn’t like somebody says it like he does. Like he’s trying really hard to convince himself of it and not succeeding.

Sometime in the hours in this darkness, he’s lost the ability to intimidate me. It might be temporary, who knows, but for now I’m reckless.

“I’m glad I kissed you.”

He goes so very still.

I snort out a laugh. Another one. And once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I’m just so fucking proud of myself for taking him off guard like that.

He moves away from me, and I’m still laughing. Suddenly he’s hovering above me. His face is right above mine. I can feel his breaths on my lips.

I swallow hard. Suddenly, I don’t feel like laughing anymore. My voice comes out on a whisper. “I’m glad I got to know what it felt like. This kind of need. It would have sucked missing out on it.”

“Stop wasting oxygen,” he says.

He’s so close. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. Arms on either side of my head. Nose somewhere above my chin. Lips above my lips.