score!
I found two zombie days documents in files on my supervisor's computer at work. Squee! Rated MA for the second short, which involves stuff. Enjoy!
Ta,
Kelle.
Headlights illuminated circles of light, like preformed ghosts, on the road yet covered. Dylan twisted her head to the right, away from the wide-open freeway, to the two sleeping figures curled around each other like newborn puppies, on the bench seat of the thunderbird. She smiled. Dylan had to peer close to see the difference of where one started and one began. Marshall had twined his long limbs around Brian’s own legs and torso. Brian’s head was buried in Marshall’s chest and shoulder, just the brown of his hair standing out against a red shirt. M
Dylan [grinned] at the thought of them untangling themselves from each other.
While the top of the convertible was in place, Dylan had rolled down the windows and the night air played
“Curiosity Killed the Neighbor’s Cat.”
Dylan knew there was a perfectly good reason for this. For the fluttering, happy butterflies in her stomach, for the irrational need to be around him all the time, as well as the anxiety that thrummed through her. She wanted to touch, taste, feel everything. Sure she had had crushes before, but nothing like this. And, there was the fact that she wasn’t just lusting over the guy; she generally wanted to know him-really know him better. And, she wasn’t even sure if he even liked her, not to mention, liked her in that way.
Nick had been out of the compound hospital wing three days and still Dylan had not spurred up the courage in herself to go see him.
Carmen said she was being silly, and she was sure Brian would have said the same if he was not so interesting in finding out what was so great inside Marshall Whelan’s pant. Last she had seen of Brian and Marshall, they had been building a makeshift fort, and she would not blame them if they just stayed inside its confines forever.
But here she was desperately wanting to get close to Nick, but worried that the depth of her feeling would not be returned.
She supposed what she really was afraid of was making a fool of herself, in front of someone she cared about. Because despite her attitude that she did not care, she did care about what Nick [Last Name] thought about her.
She supposed that she really should be worried about other things like whether or not Sasha could be moved out from the detention center, or if they were going to actually survive the zombie apocalypse. Things of that nature, but her she was all consumed with thoughts about a boy.
It really wasn’t like her at all. Really wasn’t like her to get wrapped up in what a guy thought about her and her she was letting her butterflied stomach wring itself into knots.
Dylan supposed it was all curiosity’s fault that made her legs move and her go look for Nick on the other side of the compound where he was supposedly staying according to Carmen. She had been watching a move - [Name of the Movie] - on her computer when she, partly due to boredom, paused it, and went to look for Nick. She was not entirely sure what she was going to say to the boy, but at least she had decided on a course of action.
She walked from the room she was staying in across the compound to Room 231. The door was right in front of her, staring her down. There it was. All she had to do was reach out and knock. Then wait for an answer. But she hesitated. There she stood, [hesitating], in front of the steel door with the numbers two three one plastered on it. Finally, as if in spite of herself, her hand reached out and she knocked three times on the door. At first, there was no answer. She always turned away from the door, and walked away. But, then, Dylan heard the clunk, clunk, thump sound that started getting closer to the door. Then, slowly the door was opened. On the other side of the door was Nick [Last Name]. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants that have been cut off at the knee into shorts, and his foot was in a cast. He looked tired, but that he was doing okay.
Dylan suddenly felt like a little kid who had been caught telling a lie and now had to tell the truth. She put her hands in her jeans pockets and ducked her head toward the ground. She avoided his eyes completely.
“Hey, Nick.”
“Dylan.” He tried to lock eyes with Dylan, but she looked away every time he got close. “Um, you wanna come in?”
Dylan nodded her head. Suddenly, her throat was dry and she could not seem to make her mouth move. She entered Nick’s suite of rooms at his insisting wave of his arms, sideways.
When she entered, she looked around at the room she was in. Nick closed the door behind her. In the main room were a bed and a desk. On the desk, Nick had set up a computer. There were books and notebooks piled near the desk. There were a few chairs; two metal folding chairs, a two black padded armchairs. On the left, there was a passage way into a bathroom with a toilet and a shower, and off to the right was a small kitchen with a refrigerator, microwave, and a hot plate. And, just like the room Dylan was staying in, just like the rooms Marshall and Brian were sharing, there were no windows-part of the appeal of the compound, Dylan suspected.
“So,” Dylan turned around and flapped her arms against her sides. Her arms hitting her sides made a loud snapping sound. She was facing the bed. Nick had hobbled over to it and now resting on the bed his foot with the cast laid out straight. The dark blue cast blending into the black comforter. “Carmen told me that you got your memory ack.”
Nick crooked a smile. “Yeah, I did. Thank you.” He then ran a hand through this jet, black hair. “Why don’t…” he finally had eye contact with Dylan, and then he broke it, looked away, looked down. He lifted his arms and made an inviting sweeping motion over the bed.
“Why don’t you just sit down.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Sure,” Dylan acquiesced to his request as she plopped down on the bed. She bounced just a little as she landed.
God, this was awful. Dylan could feel the awkward tension in the room. Now that she was here, next to him, courage seemed to have fled from her side.
Come on, come on, Dylan. Come on. Say what you came to say. Say what you came to say and get out of here.
Dylan opened her mouth. Finding that nothing quite would come out. She closed her mouth then she swallowed. She looked down; incidentally she looked down where Nick’s cast was right in her line of sight. Dylan sighed, god she was awful at this.
She swallowed, “So, how…how long do you have to wear the cast?”
“Doctor said another two weeks if I stay off it as much as possible, more if I don’t.”
Dylan looked down at her hands which were limp in her lap. “Well, that is good.”
There was a long silence then that stretched out between them. Dylan finally gave up trying to find the perfect way to say “I’m sorry” and jerked her head up. At the same moment, Nick had started to leaned forwards, towards her.
Time froze. The world stopped turning, and Dylan and Nick were face to face. Inches away from each other. Dylan could not move, she felt fixated in time and place-as she blew a breath out, Nick drew a breath in-the same in reverse, He breathed out, she breathed the same breath in.
Dylan licked her lips and when she did she gazed up to look into Nick’s eyes, but his deep brown eyes were fixed on her lips. Dylan felt a zing go through her body.
Suddenly, the world had started again and Dylan found herself and Nick being drawn together.
In no time, lips were on lips and when Dylan breathed in she was being kissed. It did not take long before she was kissing back like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Then it was like some giant crack of thunder or splintering bit of lightening that heralded a hurried frenzy of lips and hands and body.
Dylan and Nick were [furiously] kissing each other. Dylan was pressing back, her hands now attached to Nick’s hip and the other hand flat against his t-shirted chest. Her body hummed, and the slick slide of tongue against tongue was interesting, and [fun], and [fantastic]. Dylan was no practically horizontal leaning over Nick.
Dylan dug her fingers into the side of Nick’s hip when he pulled her down closer to him, so their bodies were aligned. Then suddenly, there was a gasp, where at first Dylan did not know who made it until Nick pulled, extracted his mouth from hers and he said, “Ow.”
Immediately, Dylan started to pull away-her hands flying away from him like she had been burned.
She was about to say sorry when he spoke, “I’m still hurting a little bit here.” He made a gesture towards his injured foot in his class.
When Dylan did not answer or stop pulling away, he pouted. “I am fine, just do not lean on the cast please.”
“Oh.” Dylan answered.
“Good to know.”
Nick grabbed Dylan around her waist in a quick flash, so she landed on top of him, though not on his cast thankfully. Dylan felt her heart speed up, and excitement ran through her veins.
To Dylan, the whole experience felt odd-not necessarily a bad form of odd, but it was odd still the same. Here she was laying in Nick’s bed, half on half off, pillowed by his warm sleepy body. He was asleep, snoring slightly, one arm entangled around Dylan.
She felt warm, safe, comforted, and the remembrances of what had just happened-being kissed and kissing in return and heavy petty that had happened afterwards.
Dylan sighed happily, adjusted her body closer to Nick’s and layed her head in the crook of his neck.
Finally, at last, Dylan was going to get some sleep.
Ta,
Kelle.
Headlights illuminated circles of light, like preformed ghosts, on the road yet covered. Dylan twisted her head to the right, away from the wide-open freeway, to the two sleeping figures curled around each other like newborn puppies, on the bench seat of the thunderbird. She smiled. Dylan had to peer close to see the difference of where one started and one began. Marshall had twined his long limbs around Brian’s own legs and torso. Brian’s head was buried in Marshall’s chest and shoulder, just the brown of his hair standing out against a red shirt. M
Dylan [grinned] at the thought of them untangling themselves from each other.
While the top of the convertible was in place, Dylan had rolled down the windows and the night air played
“Curiosity Killed the Neighbor’s Cat.”
Dylan knew there was a perfectly good reason for this. For the fluttering, happy butterflies in her stomach, for the irrational need to be around him all the time, as well as the anxiety that thrummed through her. She wanted to touch, taste, feel everything. Sure she had had crushes before, but nothing like this. And, there was the fact that she wasn’t just lusting over the guy; she generally wanted to know him-really know him better. And, she wasn’t even sure if he even liked her, not to mention, liked her in that way.
Nick had been out of the compound hospital wing three days and still Dylan had not spurred up the courage in herself to go see him.
Carmen said she was being silly, and she was sure Brian would have said the same if he was not so interesting in finding out what was so great inside Marshall Whelan’s pant. Last she had seen of Brian and Marshall, they had been building a makeshift fort, and she would not blame them if they just stayed inside its confines forever.
But here she was desperately wanting to get close to Nick, but worried that the depth of her feeling would not be returned.
She supposed what she really was afraid of was making a fool of herself, in front of someone she cared about. Because despite her attitude that she did not care, she did care about what Nick [Last Name] thought about her.
She supposed that she really should be worried about other things like whether or not Sasha could be moved out from the detention center, or if they were going to actually survive the zombie apocalypse. Things of that nature, but her she was all consumed with thoughts about a boy.
It really wasn’t like her at all. Really wasn’t like her to get wrapped up in what a guy thought about her and her she was letting her butterflied stomach wring itself into knots.
Dylan supposed it was all curiosity’s fault that made her legs move and her go look for Nick on the other side of the compound where he was supposedly staying according to Carmen. She had been watching a move - [Name of the Movie] - on her computer when she, partly due to boredom, paused it, and went to look for Nick. She was not entirely sure what she was going to say to the boy, but at least she had decided on a course of action.
She walked from the room she was staying in across the compound to Room 231. The door was right in front of her, staring her down. There it was. All she had to do was reach out and knock. Then wait for an answer. But she hesitated. There she stood, [hesitating], in front of the steel door with the numbers two three one plastered on it. Finally, as if in spite of herself, her hand reached out and she knocked three times on the door. At first, there was no answer. She always turned away from the door, and walked away. But, then, Dylan heard the clunk, clunk, thump sound that started getting closer to the door. Then, slowly the door was opened. On the other side of the door was Nick [Last Name]. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants that have been cut off at the knee into shorts, and his foot was in a cast. He looked tired, but that he was doing okay.
Dylan suddenly felt like a little kid who had been caught telling a lie and now had to tell the truth. She put her hands in her jeans pockets and ducked her head toward the ground. She avoided his eyes completely.
“Hey, Nick.”
“Dylan.” He tried to lock eyes with Dylan, but she looked away every time he got close. “Um, you wanna come in?”
Dylan nodded her head. Suddenly, her throat was dry and she could not seem to make her mouth move. She entered Nick’s suite of rooms at his insisting wave of his arms, sideways.
When she entered, she looked around at the room she was in. Nick closed the door behind her. In the main room were a bed and a desk. On the desk, Nick had set up a computer. There were books and notebooks piled near the desk. There were a few chairs; two metal folding chairs, a two black padded armchairs. On the left, there was a passage way into a bathroom with a toilet and a shower, and off to the right was a small kitchen with a refrigerator, microwave, and a hot plate. And, just like the room Dylan was staying in, just like the rooms Marshall and Brian were sharing, there were no windows-part of the appeal of the compound, Dylan suspected.
“So,” Dylan turned around and flapped her arms against her sides. Her arms hitting her sides made a loud snapping sound. She was facing the bed. Nick had hobbled over to it and now resting on the bed his foot with the cast laid out straight. The dark blue cast blending into the black comforter. “Carmen told me that you got your memory ack.”
Nick crooked a smile. “Yeah, I did. Thank you.” He then ran a hand through this jet, black hair. “Why don’t…” he finally had eye contact with Dylan, and then he broke it, looked away, looked down. He lifted his arms and made an inviting sweeping motion over the bed.
“Why don’t you just sit down.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Sure,” Dylan acquiesced to his request as she plopped down on the bed. She bounced just a little as she landed.
God, this was awful. Dylan could feel the awkward tension in the room. Now that she was here, next to him, courage seemed to have fled from her side.
Come on, come on, Dylan. Come on. Say what you came to say. Say what you came to say and get out of here.
Dylan opened her mouth. Finding that nothing quite would come out. She closed her mouth then she swallowed. She looked down; incidentally she looked down where Nick’s cast was right in her line of sight. Dylan sighed, god she was awful at this.
She swallowed, “So, how…how long do you have to wear the cast?”
“Doctor said another two weeks if I stay off it as much as possible, more if I don’t.”
Dylan looked down at her hands which were limp in her lap. “Well, that is good.”
There was a long silence then that stretched out between them. Dylan finally gave up trying to find the perfect way to say “I’m sorry” and jerked her head up. At the same moment, Nick had started to leaned forwards, towards her.
Time froze. The world stopped turning, and Dylan and Nick were face to face. Inches away from each other. Dylan could not move, she felt fixated in time and place-as she blew a breath out, Nick drew a breath in-the same in reverse, He breathed out, she breathed the same breath in.
Dylan licked her lips and when she did she gazed up to look into Nick’s eyes, but his deep brown eyes were fixed on her lips. Dylan felt a zing go through her body.
Suddenly, the world had started again and Dylan found herself and Nick being drawn together.
In no time, lips were on lips and when Dylan breathed in she was being kissed. It did not take long before she was kissing back like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. Then it was like some giant crack of thunder or splintering bit of lightening that heralded a hurried frenzy of lips and hands and body.
Dylan and Nick were [furiously] kissing each other. Dylan was pressing back, her hands now attached to Nick’s hip and the other hand flat against his t-shirted chest. Her body hummed, and the slick slide of tongue against tongue was interesting, and [fun], and [fantastic]. Dylan was no practically horizontal leaning over Nick.
Dylan dug her fingers into the side of Nick’s hip when he pulled her down closer to him, so their bodies were aligned. Then suddenly, there was a gasp, where at first Dylan did not know who made it until Nick pulled, extracted his mouth from hers and he said, “Ow.”
Immediately, Dylan started to pull away-her hands flying away from him like she had been burned.
She was about to say sorry when he spoke, “I’m still hurting a little bit here.” He made a gesture towards his injured foot in his class.
When Dylan did not answer or stop pulling away, he pouted. “I am fine, just do not lean on the cast please.”
“Oh.” Dylan answered.
“Good to know.”
Nick grabbed Dylan around her waist in a quick flash, so she landed on top of him, though not on his cast thankfully. Dylan felt her heart speed up, and excitement ran through her veins.
To Dylan, the whole experience felt odd-not necessarily a bad form of odd, but it was odd still the same. Here she was laying in Nick’s bed, half on half off, pillowed by his warm sleepy body. He was asleep, snoring slightly, one arm entangled around Dylan.
She felt warm, safe, comforted, and the remembrances of what had just happened-being kissed and kissing in return and heavy petty that had happened afterwards.
Dylan sighed happily, adjusted her body closer to Nick’s and layed her head in the crook of his neck.
Finally, at last, Dylan was going to get some sleep.