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When I turn back to Faith, she’s watching me. “What about you?”
My eyes widen in confusion, momentarily disoriented by what she’s asking.
“How long have y’all been together?” She inclines her head toward Grant to make her meaning clear.
My cheeks grow hot. “Oh. No. No, it’s not like that. We’re not together. Like that.” If it’s possible for me to sound any goofier, I’m not aware of it.
She chuckles. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Of course. We’re not… a couple or anything.”
“I see.” She pauses. Then slants me a teasing look so much like the way my school friends would look at me that it triggers a ripple of pained nostalgia. “Do you fuck him?”
This is not a normal topic of conversation between two people who just met, but things are different in the world now and it doesn’t feel intrusive to me. I’m self-conscious but not because she’s asking. “N-no.”
“No?”
“Well, we did once. But it wasn’t… I mean, it was a while ago and it didn’t mean anything. We’re not together now.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. I have no idea how to answer her.
“Does he know you’re still interested?”
“I don’t… I don’t think I am.”
She gives me an eye roll to show how little she believes this.
“I mean it. I wouldn’t mind having sex with him again. I’ll admit that much. But I want a relationship. A… a good one. Romantic. A commitment. The whole thing. And he doesn’t… I mean, maybe he’d have a relationship like that in the old world. But now…” I shake my head, thinking it through. “All he’s interested in is getting things done and taking care of our people. He’s not a guy who can give me what I want. This world is hard enough. I don’t need to ask for more pain by wanting something from a guy I can never get.”
She nods and reaches over to put a hand on my forearm briefly. It’s a kind gesture. One of understanding, empathy. “That makes sense to me. I only asked because I thought I picked up vibes, although I could definitely be wrong about those. But I will say this. I used to fuck Jackson. That’s all we did. Just sex. Nothing romantic. And it wasn’t supposed to mean anything—until it did. And then one day I opened my eyes and realized we were in love, and I had no idea how it had happened. And now we have the whole thing even though a year ago I would have laughed my head off at the idea of it. Sometimes what you think means nothing actually does.”
“Maybe.” I appreciate what she’s shared with me, so I don’t want to argue too much. But whatever her situation was with Jackson isn’t mine with Grant.
Grant and I don’t have a sexual relationship. We don’t even have a friendly one. Whatever we do have is probably just in my mind—a result of loneliness, neediness, a helpless desperation for the kind of human intimacy I no longer have.
If he wanted the same from me, he would have asked for it a long time ago.
“Anyway, if you want to find out, maybe you should just make a move on him,” Faith continues in a softer voice since the men are now walking toward the porch where we’re sitting. “Just jump him. See what happens. I used to just show up in Jackson’s room. It’s not a bad strategy if you can’t make anything else work.”
I can’t help but laugh since that’s obviously what she’s going for now. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for the advice.”
My voice must not have been low enough. Grant is frowning as he draws near. “What advice?”
“Just girl talk,” Faith replies quickly before I can search my mind for something appropriate to say. “Did you get things figured out with the generator?”
Jackson leans down to give her a quick kiss and then squeezes in to share her seat. The conversation turns to other things.
Despite the friendly, casual conversation, it feels like Grant is still watching me, like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
And that’s something I really don’t want him to discover.
* * *
We hang out for another hour, and I honestly can’t remember when I’ve had a better time, but then Grant says we need to get back. The last thing we want to do is get caught outside our fence after dark, so I don’t object. I hurry to use the bathroom while he checks that all our new supplies (and the chickens) are secure in the back of the Jeep.
When I come out of the house again, I expect him to be sitting behind the steering wheel, waiting impatiently for me to get into my seat, but he’s not. He’s leaning against the vehicle, talking to a pretty girl I haven’t met.
