"Fair point," I exhale.

"The factories that produce human meat have been shut down, obviously. It's been six months. Zombies will begin going Mindless soon and the islands will become filled with starving, irreversible Undead."

I grit my teeth. "They should have listened when we found the cure."

"We couldn't have cured everyone in the world. You are aware that other countries have fallen to anarchy. Humans and monsters are at war with one another, and none of this will be solved with one easy, simple answer. The only thing that could fix this is the Rapture, but we aren't there yet, are we?" She runs her fingers through her hair, which has grown down to her shoulders now.

"You called everyone that isn't a human a monster," I point out as I ascend the stairs, her emerald irises catching on mine.

She hesitates. "What else would you like me to call the insane amount of science fiction and fantasy creatures that walk our world?"

I shrug. "I'm not chastising you. I was making sure you heard yourself. Because to them, humans are the monsters. And to humans, we are."

"I'm not picking sides."

"You picked the moment you started those riots," I remind her. "And that decision will follow you to your grave."

I wake to a headache and the sound of the shower running. Rubbing my eyes, I pass my bathroom, hearing Mikey singing softly to herself, and make my way downstairs, the washer running.

The sounds of cereal against a glass bowl spikes my headache more and I grimace, inhaling and exhaling to calm myself down. I can feel my nerves shaking.

"Zeke!"

My eyes snap open at Mikey's voice. She's calling me from the bathroom. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I call from the bottom of the stairs, gritting my teeth at the pounding in my head. "Headache from lack of sleep."

"Okay."

I hear the door shut and she continues showering. Guess she sensed I was having trouble keeping my form.

The kiss hits me again out of nowhere and I focus my mind elsewhere, pouring the milk into my cereal. I try to focus on the colors before me, but my mind keeps pulling back to the revelation I'd had last night. That she and I are basically stuck with one another. No one else knows what we've been through, and no one else would fight as hard as we do for one another, willingly or unwillingly. I can tell myself over and over how much I hate her and despise her, yet here I am, standing right beside her through thick and thin. Whether she deserves it or not.

We're a shroud. And I don't think anything will ever change that.

I hear the shower cut off right as I finish my cereal. The washer chimes as it completes its cycle, and I hear the bathroom door open upstairs.

"Close your eyes!" she shouts to me, making my eyebrows furrow.

"What?"

"Close your eyes," she repeats, closer this time. "I don't want you to see me only in a towel."

I make a face. Of course she wouldn't have any clothes. They're in the dryer down here.

I shake my head. "Just grab one of my shirts and sweatpants from in my room."

I hear Mikey hesitate. "You sure?"

I shrug, not sure why it'd be a big deal anyway. "Unless you want to freeze your butt off headed down here. Plus you don't have to worry about the towel falling."

My face flushes after I finish my statement, pushing the mental image away. I'm supposed to hate this girl, and yet here I am, wondering which towel she grabbed to dry herself off with.

Running my fingers through my hair, I exhale heavily. I take my bowl to the sink and focus on cleaning it, trying my hardest to keep my mind from that kiss. It wasn't my first, but it wasn't my third, either.

I snort at the stupid joke. I was kissed back in elementary by this girl, but it was on a dare. So I'm not sure if it counts. I'm not even fully sure the one with Mikey counts, either.

My thoughts drift back to how gentle Mikey can really be when she isn't bent on keeping me a Bleeder. The hand squeeze in the train, the way she comforted me when I had nightmares, the weight of her arm and her hands tangled in my hair when I woke, the warmth of her body against my back...

I grit my teeth and swallow hard, turning off the water.

If this goes down the path I'm already beginning to see forming, would seeing her in any romantic way be worthwhile? Or, more importantly, healthy?

Hasty footsteps approach the kitchen, and I turn around to address the situation. Whether I like it or not, I think we need to talk about that kiss. It might be nothing, but I need to know her intentions behind it.

I lean against the sink and pull myself from my thoughts just as Mikey enters, and all my thoughts lose their footing.

I will never admit how she looks in my clothes, no matter how much my nerves begin to tingle.

She's so short, she had to roll my dark gray sweatpants several times at her waist. My black shirt swallows her whole, the front tucked into the pants. And her hair, wet like that...

She wrinkles her nose at me, a sign she's upset I looked, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"I said don't look."

I roll my eyes and turn around, muttering, "Fine," and stare down at the sink, my brain a mess. My pulse has skyrocketed and suddenly everything is exposed, like it's under interrogation by my common sense.

I have a girl in my house, wearing my clothes. She showered here, is doing her laundry here, and is sleeping under the same roof. If that kiss didn't exist, she'd be just like a roommate. But because of that kiss, because of thoughts I've had toward her, things I've specifically enjoyed about her company, her touch, her body heat... the lines are blurred beyond recognition.

Mikey shuffles past the kitchen and into the laundry room, but I sensed her hesitation.

She was one-thousand percent reading my reaction. I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking too, or if she can only guess. Is she overthinking like I am, or is she pulling these reactions out of me on purpose?

I hear her in the laundry room. I walk over and stand against the wall just outside the doorway.

"We need to talk," I start, my voice coming out rougher than I'm meaning to.

"About what?" she asks without a care in the world. It's like she thinks I'm going to ask her what her favorite color is.

It's probably pink.

"That kiss."

She pauses, but I can't gauge her emotions.

"What, have you been thinking about it?"

I scoff quietly, trying to hide a reaction she can't see, but I bet she can hear my heart pounding. I can barely make out anything with her, my emotions are so muddled. "I just want to know why you did it, is all."

"Why, are you worried I have a crush on you or something?"

There's a weird inflection in her voice as she finishes pulling out her laundry. She shuts the door, announcing she's going to change and instructing me not to come in.

"No, I just—"

"What, are you staring to want another one?" The teasing in her tone makes me grit my teeth and my nerves spike once again.

"I just want to know why you did it."

"You said that," she snaps over the rustling of her clothing, but there's a shift in the air, like a bit of what she's really feeling has slipped through. I guess for someone who had to hide what she truly thinks from everyone would know how to mask herself well.

The door opens and she rounds the corner, her eyes meeting mine. They're intense, the green deep and defensive.

"I did it to rile you up. That's all. You wanted a fight so I gave it to you."

There's something else that keeps me locked on. Is it how close she stands? The smell of my shampoo on her? The memories that have been running through my mind since the kiss? The way the light reflects gold shimmers in her irises?

I tear my eyes away, fighting the instinct to touch her face. Everything in my body wants to believe what she said, but I just can't. I...

She takes a step back and heads to the kitchen.

My pulse pounds in my ears.

"I put your clothes in the washer," she says, opening my fridge. "I'm ready to leave when you are."

I get control of my breathing and clench my fists at my sides.

"We'll head out in ten minutes," I tell her in passing as I head up to my room, stopping at the top.

What in the world is wrong with me?