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“Em…no, I don’t need anything. I’m good,” I babble.
My heart rate picks up as Oz grabs the neck of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head in that way that only people with Y chromosomes seem to be able to do sexily. I remember watchingMagic Mikeas a teenager and thought it looked easy. Only when I tried to do it, I ended up punching myself in the face.
Dear God, now my brain is babbling too.
When Zig’s hands move to the button of his pants, I’m pretty sure my heart stops and my breath gets stuck in my throat. I feel my face get hot, and my head throbs from lack of oxygen. Where are all the deep breaths now that I need them? It’s as if my brain is frozen and needs turning off and back on again. Though, being turned on doesn’t seem to be the immediate issue.
“Salem,” Zig shouts, making me jolt, the sudden movement breaking me out of my trance and the stupid sex thoughts holding me captive.
I remember I’m human and am about to pass out, so I suck in a deep breath of sweet, sweet air before coughing and spluttering. Fuck my life. Right now, I can only hope I actually did die, and this is all just a weird part of passing through the white light.
“Salem? Jesus, you’re freaking me out. Say something.”
“Something,” I manage to choke out. His shoulders relax a fraction, his hands dropping from his pants. He looks from them to me as realization crosses his face. Only his Salem arithmetic is a little off because, if I had to guess, he was thinking he was scaring me. A simple one-plus-one problem. Only my dirty little brain didn’t have time to be scared because I was too busy adding one and one to get three.
“We can sleep somewhere else. I mean it.”
Yes, please sleep far, far away.
“No, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
No, go away and leave me to die.
“Absolutely.”
I’m going to hell.
Oz grins at me but says nothing as he crawls onto the mattress beside me. Thankfully, they both leave their pants on because I don’t think I’d survive. I’ve never shared a bed with a man before. The only person I’ve ever slept beside is my mom, and this issonot the same.
I sit frozen as Zig moves to sit on the opposite side of me. He lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear that refuses to stay put. “Relax, Salem. You’re safe with us.”
He lies down and leaves me to my thoughts for a minute. I close my eyes, count to five in my head, and lie back in the center of a beefcake sandwich. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I cross them over my chest like a vampire bride ready to jump out of a coffin.
I hear Oz snicker and feel his breath snake over my skin before he reaches over and takes my hand, tugging it toward him. He holds it loosely between us before Zig does the same with my other.
I’m still nervous. I can’t help it. They are so intimidating, but that small gesture helps just enough to make my breathing return to normal. We settle in, and despite everything, I drift off with relative ease, exhaustion pulling me down.
I wake up hours later, disoriented and confused. It takes my brain a moment to realize where I am, and when I do, my stomach dips and swoops. Part of me is happy to wake up and find I’m not in that god-awful cage. While another part of me feels like this is just the calm before the storm. It’s easy to live in denial knowing that Oz and Zig are both healthy, but if I couldn’t do what I do, then this would have played out so differently.
My palms feel damp, and my T-shirt sticks to my body as the humidity presses down on us. My bladder takes that moment to let me know it’s there. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I can wait. But I know that’s not going to happen. Dammit all to hell!
I pull my hands free—or try to. The second I do, I feel Zig’s hand squeeze around mine. “What’s wrong?” he whispers.
“I need to pee,” I admit.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute, making me wonder if he fell back asleep. But then I feel him move, taking me with him. “Put your shoes on,” he whispers to me as he fumbles for something in the dark.
We all left our footwear at the bottom of the bed, so they’re easy to find by touch. When I find mine, I slip them on. They are loose without socks, so I tie the laces as tight as possible. Once done, I stand and wait.
A flashlight illuminates the aisle, making me smile. “Thank God.”
“Thank Greg. He’s the one who makes sure this thing is fully stocked,” Zig whispers as he takes my hand and tugs me along.
We make our way to the back of the plane, my apprehension growing with each step.
When Zig shines the flashlight down to where they usually land when they jump off, I see something move just outside the shadow created. “Forget it. I don’t need to pee that badly.”
