Lost World (32 page)

He’s still shaking his head when he turns and starts walking. “Follow me.”

Richard stops outside a door marked
Resident Director
and knocks. After a minute or so, a pretty black woman opens the door. She smiles down at me, and she’s so tall I have to look up—I’m pretty sure she even has an inch on Jon. She’s thin and her hair is cut right to her chin. Her brown eyes sweep over us quickly before settling on Richard, and the smile she gives him is just as warm and welcoming as the one she gave us.

“New additions?” she asks in a smooth British accent. I’m not sure why, but I wasn’t expecting that.

“Yup,” Richard says, then turns to us. “This here is Corinne. She’s kind of the unofficial leader.”

“Not leader. We have a committee that makes decisions. I was just one of the first people here.” Corinne shakes her head as she steps back, pulling the door open wider. “Come on in so we can have a little chat. We’ll get you some rooms, and I can fill you in on any details Richard may have left out.”

Gretchen goes first and I start to follow, but stop when Jon doesn’t move. He turns to Richard and says, “You’re not coming?”

“Nope. Have some stuff to get done. I’m sure I’ll see you folks at dinner, though.” The older man flashes us a quick grin before turning away, waving over his shoulder. “No need to be worried!”

I pull on Jon’s arm, and he follows me into the room. It’s a little apartment, really. A living room that’s cozy but slightly outdated. There’s a small kitchen to the left and a door next to it that I’m assuming leads to a bedroom. Everything is neat and organized and clean. In the air is the faint scent of lemon, reminding me of when I was little and my mom used to mop the floors. It tugs at my heart, and tears spring to my eyes, but I brush them away.

Corinne motions toward an ugly floral couch and loveseat as she heads toward a small desk. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure you’re tired, but we like to get some information from new arrivals. It will only take a moment.”

Even though her voice is casual and friendly, the words make me tense. So far, this place has seemed unthreatening, but I’m not about to let my guard down. Who knows if they have ulterior motives? People are unpredictable.

Gretchen plops onto the loveseat, clearly unconcerned about the situation, but Jon and I lower ourselves onto the soft couch more gingerly. Hesitantly, even. I stick to the edge, my ass barely hanging on like I’m ready to jump up and run out at any second.

Across the room, Corinne picks a spiral notebook up off the table. Still smiling. “No more computers takes some getting used to. I’m trying to be organized, but it isn’t easy.” She shakes her head as she flips through the notebook, then clears her throat. “We have plenty of space. The rooms here aren’t huge, but we’re hoping it’s temporary.”

“Richard told us about the plan to clear out the city,” Jon says, his voice slightly tense as he watches Corinne like a hawk.

“We’re going to try.”

Corinne’s eyes are on her notebook as she heads our way. She doesn’t look up until she’s lowered herself into the matching chair at our side, then she studies us like she’s trying to size us up. See where we fit in and how we’re going to work out here. I squirm and Jon’s shoulders stiffen, but Gretchen doesn’t move.

Corinne’s notebook rests in her lap, and she holds a pen in her left hand, tapping it lightly on the paper. Her smile hasn’t faded. “When new people come in, I like to ask them about their past. I know it’s a difficult subject, and I promise not to get too personal. It’s more about finding people who have useful skills. If someone has medical training or is a mechanic. If you used to sew or cook or have some other skill that might help us out down the road. We’re starting over from scratch really, so any information that might be useful.” Corinne’s eyes move over us. Then she nods. “Okay?”

Jon clears his throat and sits forward until he’s on the edge of the couch, just like me. “Sure. That makes sense. I was a pilot, actually. Not sure if there’s an airport nearby, but if there is I’m happy to help.”

Corinne’s smile gets wider, making her eyes sparkle. I relax a little. “Smashing! We haven’t had a pilot come through yet, so that will come in handy for sure. You said your name was Jon?”

“That’s right.” Jon squeezes my hand and shoots me a glance before focusing on Corinne again. “Once upon a time, I gave helicopter tours over the Grand Canyon.”

Corinne nods as she writes, and when she looks up, her eyes are on me. “And you?”

My face gets hot, and I squirm, tensing all over again. I hadn’t thought about creating a backstory for myself, and she’s taken me totally off guard.

“No useful skills I’m afraid,” I say, forcing out a laugh.

“Nothing?” The corner of Corinne’s mouth turns down.

“Not really. I was a waitress at Outback,” I reply, blurting out the first thing that pops into my head. “I kept thinking I had plenty of time to get my shit together and make something of myself. I guess that plan blew up in my face.”

I press my lips together when I stop talking. Corinne’s gaze is so intense that I’m almost positive she can tell I’m lying. Like she’s a walking polygraph.

After a second, she gives one quick nod then goes back to her notebook. “And your name?”

“Ginny.”

She writes my name on the space under Jon’s, but nothing else, then turns to Gretchen. “A student, I’m guessing?”

“Yes, but I can sew. A little.”

Corinne’s face lights up again. “Gretchen, was it?”

Gretchen nods enthusiastically.

I guess I’m the only who didn’t stand out enough for Corinne to remember my name. Good. That’s how I want it.

Corinne finishes writing and looks up, still smiling, and her eyes move to my hand. Resting in Jon’s. “Two rooms, then?”

“Yes,” I say, then glance toward Gretchen. “You’ll be okay on your own?”

Gretchen snorts and rolls her eyes dramatically. Just like a typical teenager. “I don’t want to share with you two, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Corinne laughs as she gets to her feet. “I can put you across the hall.”

“Perfect.”

“Unfortunately, there are only twin beds.” Corinne shoots Jon and me an apologetic look. “This was a college dorm.”

“It’s fine, really,” I say, waving her off.

She must be kidding. I’m just happy to have a roof over my head. If I had to sleep on the floor in the lobby I would—and it would be a step up from a lot of the places we’ve slept over the past few weeks.

Corinne crosses the room to the desk and sets the notebook down before picking up a box, opening it to reveal stacks of keys. “The dorms are suites, two rooms joined by a bathroom, so you’ll have a little extra space.”

“Sounds good,” I say, and I mean it.

Jon and I aren’t used to living together, and it’s impossible to tell how it will turn out. Things are better between us—meaning I don’t have the urge to hit him almost every time he looks my way—but having the extra room will be good. Plus, if they don’t have the town cleaned out by spring, we’ll need it for the baby.

My stomach drops, then jumps back up so fast foul-tasting bile fills my mouth, and I have to swallow it down. Shit. The baby. I’d almost forgotten about my
condition
in all the excitement.

Corinne smiles, and I do my best to return it when she holds a key out to me.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaking slightly as I take it.

“Third floor, room three fifteen,” Corinne says, then hands Gretchen another key. “Three fourteen.”

Gretchen hugs the key to her chest like it’s a prize possession, and I can’t blame her. The metal in my palm feels like a treasure map, sure to lead me to a pile of gold and a life of leisure. Of course, after the hell we’ve been through, almost anything would seem like a life of leisure. At this point, I’d take a crappy apartment and a job at McDonald’s.

Jon and I thank Corinne, and Gretchen gives her a hug so big she almost knocks the poor woman down. Then the three of us head up to the third floor. Gretchen is practically skipping, and when she gets to her room, she barely glances at us before disappearing inside. When Jon unlocks the door to our room, it feels a little bit like he’s about to carry me over the threshold.

I pause in the doorway and give it a quick once-over. It’s definitely a teen’s bedroom. Pink and black zebra print, stacks of magazines on the desk, and posters covering the walls. Whoever lived in this room really loved Channing Tatum.

Jon stops in front of the
Magic Mike
poster and wiggles his eyebrows my way. “Get you in the mood?”

I snort and barely glance at Channing’s spectacular abs. “You forget who you’re talking to. I’ve met Channing Tatum, and there wasn’t anything that special about him. In fact, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Most of the people Americans worshipped were total assholes.”

Jon laughs as he drops his backpack on the floor next to the bed. “I don’t doubt it. That one actress in particular seemed like a total bitch. What was her name? Red hair. Skinny.”

I scrunch up my nose and purse my lips, pretending I have no idea who he’s talking about. “Julia Roberts?”

Jon fakes outrage by putting his hand over his heart. “America’s sweetheart? Never. I’m talking about a younger one. Skinnier. And she was prettier than Ms. Roberts.”

I tap my finger over my lips while shaking my head. “Emma Stone? She had red hair sometimes.”

“Probably a bitch, too. But I’m talking about Hadley Lucas. Remember her?”

Shaking my head, I do my best imitation of someone who is very confused. And it’s good too. I was nominated for a Golden Globe. Twice. “Vaguely…”

“I’m sure she’s dead now, but when she was alive she was probably a giant bitch.” Jon comes over to stand in front of me. He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me against him, looking down at me with intense green eyes that make my stomach feel like it’s full of fizzy bubbles. “Really stuck up. Probably would only be worried about her own ass if she were here now.”

“But it was a nice ass,” I say, allowing a grin to pull up my lips.

He smiles and leans down so his mouth is only inches from mine. “The nicest.”

“She’s dead though, so it doesn’t matter now.”

“True,” he replies.

His warm breath brushes against my lips when he talks, and it sends a shiver right through me. In all the times that Jon and I have had sex, I haven’t once done it because I felt any kind of desire toward him. That wasn’t what sex was about with Jon and me. It was about a need to feel something, or to forget what I was feeling.

But now, as he moves closer to me, I realize I do want him. I want him to kiss every inch of my body. To make love to me for real. In a safe place where we don’t have to hurry or look over our shoulders to make sure a zombie or another person doesn’t walk up.

Just as he leans down to touch his lips against mine, it hits me that I haven’t bathed in several days. I can’t even imagine how horrible I smell.

When I pull back, disappointment flashes in his eyes. I don’t want him to think it has anything to do with
him
, so I smile and run my hand across his cheek, loving the feel of his facial hair prickling against my palm.

“I want to do this right. To start our lives together the right way,” I say, keeping my voice low and smooth so I can ease his ego and let him know I mean it. “So, I’m going to take a shower. Hopefully there’s a razor and I can shave my legs, because I look like Chewbacca right now. I’m going to brush my teeth in a real sink for the first time in weeks, then you can have a turn. Once we’ve done all those things we can take care of
other
needs.”

Jon nods, but he doesn’t let me walk away. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him and inhales like he’s trying to breathe me in. Reminding me that he’ll happily take me any way he can get me. Dirty or clean, damaged or whole. Jon loves me. The real me.

It only makes me want him more.

I come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I can’t help wondering if the college students who used to live here left their stuff behind or if Corinne and her people made sure all the rooms were stocked with the essentials. Either way, I don’t care. Because there’s shampoo and conditioner and soap and razors. For the first time since we were run out of the shelter, I feel clean and my legs aren’t hairy. I don’t even care that my hair is a quarter of an inch long. I feel like a million bucks.