“It’s not pretty out there,” he says. “Windows are shattered. A tree is halfway in the room. The roof is making sounds that has me thinking it’ll blow off after the eye passes through. Water levels are rising across the street. It’ll reach the building here soon.”
“I’m going outside,” I say.
“The fuck you are.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission.”
“I know you weren’t, but don’t you think that’s a really fucking stupid thing to do? We barely got out the first time.”
“Of course it’s stupid!” I cry out. “All this is stupid, but isn’t that the point? We came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to hide in a hotel room. It was to get footage so we can educate people. So we can study the storm’s impact on the area, which will help us be better prepared the next time a Category 5 hurricane heads for the state. Our goddamn government agencies can’t get things right. Who are people going to rely on?”
Sebastian tips his head back. Flexes his hand at his side and glares at the ceiling. “I’m not happy about this.”
“Want to make a towel leash so I don’t run off?”
“Tying you up? I wouldn’t be opposed.” He brushes his fingers against my jaw, letting out a sigh. “If we go back out there, I want you to be so fucking careful, Quincy. We’re going inside earlier than last time. I’m not losing you because we decided to take a picture of a palm tree in the wind.”
“Funny.” I stand on my toes, my lips brushing against his. “You’re making it sound like you care about me.”
“I do care about you.” He plays with the ends of my damp hair, twirling them around his finger. “And here I was thinking it was obvious as hell.”
I blow out a breath. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to feel like I’m anchored to something. Tohim, because my feet are dangerously close to coming off the ground.
“Jury is still out on how I feel about you,” I say. “Check back in a few weeks.”
Everything else feels too permanent, too far beyond thejust fuckingagreement we made. Somewhere over the last few times we’ve stumbled into bed together, the lines have started to blur. It’s all complicated. A convoluted tangle of feelings, because how else do you explain why I’m short of breath when he’s around? How else would you justify my excitement when he sleeps over, waking me up with a hand on my stomach and rolling his hips into my ass? How else would you reason why my heart skips when he’s nearby?
Because you like him, my brain whispers.Very much, my heart adds.
I shove the thought away.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Sebastian opens the bathroom door wider. “If I tell you to run, you need to run, Quincy. Don’t wait for me. Don’t look back. You run until you’re somewhere safe.”
The severity of what we’re about to do—again—settles in.
We might die.
It’s always a possibility in our line of work. We saw it firsthand with the tornado we experienced and earlier, with the debris that almost knocked us out. But considering we’re in the middle of one of nature’s most deadly forces, the understanding and acceptance of mortality nudges its way into my thoughts.
We really might die.
But it’s okay.
If the world ends tonight, I’d go out happy.
Scared, terrified, buthappy, and without any regrets. My body against his, heartbeats synchronized. A sheen of sweat on my forehead and the slightest shake in my palm. My soul split wide open for him to see. I know out of every second I’ve spent on this planet, these here with him, an unknown future ahead of us, are the best I’ll ever have.
No one knows me like Sebastian does, and I’m not sure anyone ever will.
“Okay,” I manage to whisper. “But please don’t let go of me.”
“It will take God himself to separate me from you.” Sebastian’s forehead presses against mine. His breath dances across my face. I’m calm. Momentarily safe. “And even then, I would go down with a fight.”
His fingers lace in mine when we step out of the room. The hallway is pitch-black, the carpet damp, and we each hold a flashlight to illuminate the way.
“There’s another door down this way,” he says.
It takes both of us using our shoulders to shove open the side door that leads outside, the sandbags in front of the glass doing their job to keep water out. When I step into the grass, I stop in my tracks.
