Trapped (Here Trilogy) (5 page)

“Twenty-one hours, twenty-six minutes, twenty-eight seconds,” she said a moment later. Followed by a surrendering, “Whatever.”

A primal panic raged in my chest. Was she serious? Twenty-one hours, twenty something minutes! I glanced at the clock: 11:19 PM. So that meant….tomorrow around 8 PM. What would happen then!?

I looked at Nick, who looked apologetic but said nothing to reassure me.

“Let's find a camp spot near the springs,” he said.

He parked in a grove of Douglas Firs hugging the water where the steam was especially thick, and Vera was out her door in a breath, a giant duffel on her back. A second later the roof vibrated like a Vera-sized torpedo had hit it. I shuddered at the memory of the DoD helicopters, and Nick squeezed my hand as he lifted his gaze to the roof.

“She’s just showing off.”

Before I could reply, the roof shook again, and Vera was opening the truck’s toolbox, layered hair falling in her face as she jerked out a dark, round thing that might have been a sleeping bag and stuffed it underneath one of her slender arms. She slammed the door and strode into the fog, tendrils of it curling after her.

I looked down at Nick's hand, curled loosely around mine. I traced his fingers with mine, and I felt like I should say something, but my brain no longer seemed to work. I felt kind of numb inside; detached. Like I was flying on autopilot.

Nick tugged my hand over the console and pressed it gently in both of his. Then that warm gaze was peering right through me. His mouth shifted in a thoughtful twist, and he pressed my hand a little harder. “I assume you find all of this overwhelming.”

I met his eyes and nodded, because at that second, I felt close to tears.

His eyes looked sad as he leaned to kiss my hand. “We'll talk in a few minutes,” he said. “I won't leave you in the dark.”

Before I could ask, “Why not now,” Nick was out the door.

“I’ll pitch your tent,” he promised as he shut it.

I folded my arms as he pulled a tent from the roof and walked into the fog. It seemed too thin as he walked through it, and I was able to follow him all the way to his chosen spot, thirty or forty feet behind Vera’s tent, in a clearing between two scrubby-looking firs.

He crouched to unwrap the tent, the moonlight gleamed against his coppery hair, and I felt warmth spread low inside my belly.

Why did he have to be an alien? I imagined that in some other universe Nick was just a normal guy, and I was still a normal girl with two parents. And when we stood together underneath the stars, I didn't have to wonder if from one of them was coming earth’s annihilation, or if to one of them he would return.

NICK MOVED SLOWLY around the tent, giving it one final, thorough-looking inspection. It must have been a family tent, because it was at least three times the size of Vera’s. Did this mean Nick and I would share it?

My whole body was practically glowing as he strode back toward the truck. He slid into the passenger's seat, dark gaze gliding over mine as he reached into the back seat and pulled a bottle of water from the cooler. He took a long tug, shifting to look at me.

“When you found me in your yard, did you have any idea how much fun you were going to have?” His smile and voice were sardonic.

“You should have come with a warning label,” I said. I tried to smile, but I think I just ended up looking sick, because Nick smiled for me, a small, tense, lips-closed kind of smile. “Let me walk you to your tent. We can talk there.”

Again, I imagined he was just a regular guy. The butterflies in my stomach, the warm tinglies, would be all I felt if he had just asked to walk me to my car after a party.

“Psh.” I batted his hard shoulder. “I can walk there on my own.”

He smiled, a quick smile, but a real one this time. “I want to.”

“Fine,” I said, “but you have to help me look through the truck first. For supplies.”

We grabbed two giant black duffels, a plaid sleeping bag, and a white fleece blanket. We left behind a kerosene lantern, not wanting to risk attracting anyone’s attention.

It was dark outside, but it wasn't pitch black. A three-quarters moon lit the fog and steam that swirled around us, lending the night a certain fragrance-commercial quality.

I followed a half-step behind Nick, moving slowly, because the ground was icy and my feet were seriously sore.

I’d forgotten how quiet it was here. The only noise was the gentle lapping of the springs, and behind that, a faint rumble. Helicopters? SUVs?

A waterfall, I decided after a moment.

Clutching the green sleeping bag to my chest, I
thought of Bree's Miley Cyrus bag, of that last time the crew all spent the night: me, Halah, Bree, and S.K. at my house, the night before I met Nick. We'd eaten popcorn, stayed up talking late like when we were younger. Like it had always been.

I noticed, as we neared the tent, that the thick ice covering the ground was gone, revealing soft brown dirt. Nick had melted the ice for me.

As if he heard my thoughts, he turned and smiled. Another few steps and we were to the tent. He
held the flap open for me and I saw that it was large inside, as far as tents went. I stepped in first, depositing my things beside the entrance. I saw that he’d already spread a thick-looking quilt on the floor, so I sank down on it.

There I was with Nick, having just walked into a steamy, CW drama-type situation, and I was driven to distraction by the memory of my childhood friends.

I wanted to tell myself it was just something about girls getting older: you turned into your own person and you needed your girlfriends less, but somewhere in the pit of my stomach I knew that wasn't true. S.K. had chosen Ami over me. Halah and I had always been marching to the beat of different drums; hers was a lot louder than mine. And Bree? We were just too different to be good friends without the quad intact. Which was kind of sad, because Bree and I had both been ditched.

I felt stripped bare without my girlfriends, and only now, sitting beside two lumpy duffel bags inside a stolen tent in Yellowstone, could I really admit to myself that I had begun mourning the loss of our quad long before I shot Nick with the dart.

Nick was watching me, silent, respectful; he clearly knew I needed the quiet, even if he didn’t know why. He was willing to give it to me. To just be there with me.

Was that why I felt like I needed Nick so much? Because I needed to feel like someone was with me?

No. Lonely or not, Nick was someone I would have wanted whenever, however. And it
was
epic. I wasn’t being silly when I thought that. He had crossed time and space for me. He had broken rules older than humanity just to know me. And I felt, even after knowing him for just a short amount of time, like I would do the same.

Which was bad—so very bad, for so many reasons. But I couldn’t think about those reasons without losing myself in panic, and he was sitting right in front of me, after all, waiting so patiently.

“So…” I said, not sure how to begin a conversation that terrified me.

“Do you want to see what you got?” he suggested, nodding to the duffel bags.

What I wanted was to scream, because the pressure of not knowing my fate felt like it was going to pop my head right off my neck. But since I didn’t have the guts to ask, I muttered, “Sure.”

We moved the bags to the back of the tent, where I dropped to my knees and started sorting through...a prostitute’s shoe collection?

Maybe a shoe fetishist, or an actress in a film about feet. The first bag yielded tan Ugg boots, black Ugg boots, purple Gucci boots, ankle-high white suede boots, thigh-high crocodile-skin boots, and a newish pair of Nike running shoes.

Why would someone take this camping?

I turned the bag upside down, feeling desperate as half a dozen pairs of fluffy socks, three hair brushes, a Chi hairdryer, two makeup bags, one wig, three bras for mega boobs, several pairs of large panties, a tablet I was too afraid to turn on (lest we be tracked), two ragged Cosmo magazines, a pack of birth control, a small silver flask, an electronic cigarette, and two bottles of what looked like expensive shampoo for dyed or damaged hair fell to the floor. The only thing wearable was the socks, so I rolled a purple pair gently over my sore feet and tore into the next bag. When I found it stuffed with little boy clothes, toys, and a
Finding Nemo
pillow, I clutched the pillow to my chest and blinked back tears.

“I think this bag has some…okay, maybe not.” Nick pulled out a white cotton dress that smelled of sunscreen, a pair of lilac leggings that sparkled like the little girls' clothes in the mall, and a royal blue zip-up hoodie that had to've belonged to an elementary school boy.

I giggled, and he laughed gamely. “Maybe I can check the car…or—” his brows arched— “Vera’s tent.”

He said “Vera’s tent” in a mock horrified way, but my startled reaction was genuine. What was it I didn’t like about that idea? Him going into her tent, or just the reminder that she was here with us? The reminder that she was…who she was.

I rocked my sore self into a sitting position and took the clothes from him, inhaling the summery smell of the dress. Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a zip-up travel wallet, opening it to show a photo of the family we'd robbed. The presumed mom, who looked a tiny bit familiar from when I'd seen Nick put her out of her truck, was sporting the mega boobs that fit into my huge new bras.

“Nice.” I pushed up to my feet, wondering what I'd do if I couldn't get a decent bra from Vera. “Um, I'm going to go outside and change.”

Nick rose, too, catching my wrist gently and tugging me closer. “It's mid-October, Milo. Thirty-three degrees. I can turn around.”

“Is that what you’ll do with Vera?” It just popped out, and I felt so so so so so so so dumb.

He grinned a little, like he thought my jealousy was funny. It was such a typical guy expression, and I was so surprised to see it on his face I didn’t even get mad.

“She’s like…” His brows notched as he turned to face the tent flap. “She’s like a twin. More than a twin. I could never feel anything romantic for her. Or any member of The Rest.”

I was standing there in my rainbow underwear, having just decided that I'd rather wear leggings with no panties than continue wearing these dirty ones, and I didn't have the nerve to ask him why. Did “The Rest” just not do that sort of thing? Vera had acted like the idea was revolting.

I was reminded that I knew next to nothing about Nick or where he came from.

Thinking is not your friend, Milo Mitchell.

I wiggled into the leggings and pulled the strapless dress over my bare chest. Instead of wondering about topics better left to apocalyptic movies, I focused on the way Nick's back strained against the fabric of his stolen linen button-up. I admired the shape of his arms, the biceps familiar even after such a short time.

This was my Nick, and he was just like me.

Lonely
. I smoothed my hair down, tugged the tight hoodie on and pulled the sparkly leggings over my fuzzy socks. I let my gaze rest on Nick, memorizing the way his shoulders moved as he breathed.

“I'm finished.”

He turned to face me, and l felt like I was seeing him again for the first time. He was even more breath-stealing than when I first met him, because now he was him. Powerful. Confident. Wise. And of course, breathtakingly beautiful—the advantage of being able to make your already hot body almost perfect.

He sank down onto the foot of the sleeping bag, crossing his leg over his knee and resting his hand atop his ankle. Now I had different thoughts I couldn’t shake. My cheeks burned as I sank down near the pillow, feeling self-conscious and nursing a belly full of butterflies.

Nick reached behind him, and as he brought his arm back around, I pictured him handing me flowers. Instead, he draped a red and black flannel jacket over my shoulders.

“For you.”

I closed my hand around one of the soft sleeves. “Thank you.”

It was huge—almost as wide as I was tall. I worked my arms into the sleeves and smoothed the soft, thick fabric over my legs. “I can wear it like a trench coat.” I smiled, still overly conscious of our proximity.

Back in my room when Nick had been this close, it had seemed easier. I hadn't known who he was, after all, just that he could do weird stuff.

“Are there…anymore sleeping bags?” I asked, trying hard to sound normal. “One for everyone?” I tacked on.

Nick shook his head, and my imagination leapt into action. I must have looked awkward, because Nick grinned. “There are, actually, but I don’t need one. I can control my body temperature.”

“Oh,” I said, but really long and embarrassing, because clearly I was flustered. It was more like, “Ooooooooooooooooooooooh.”

“It's all a matter of overriding cellular…I’m going to freak you out again if I keep going.”

Actually, no. I had already reached max freak capacity. “I’m interested.”

“You are?”

I nodded. “I want to know all your talents.”

I’d hoped he would smile again; I wanted as many memories of him smiling as I could get. But he still seemed unhappy. And nervous. As soon as I realized that, I was nervous, too, because what could make him nervous?