Page 98 of Captured Immune

“It doesn’t feel that way, but I’ll take it.” He turns his hand over to intertwine his fingers with mine. A warm tingle spreads up my arm, all the way to my shoulders.

It’s always felt natural for us to hold hands. Like the way it’s always felt natural for us to kiss and make love. If Ordinaries aren’t meant to be with people like him, then why does being with him feel so right to me?

“Arella?”

It’s official: No matter what happens, I’ll always love the sound of my name on his lips. I flick my eyes up to meet his. “Yeah?”

He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Thanks again for not leaving me behind.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I can’t even believe you asked me to do that.”

“I didn’t ask. I was telling, but I shoulda known you’d be difficult.”

Pfft.“If I wasn’t difficult, you’d be bleeding out right now.”

“Actually, someone would have found me by now. And if it was the Royals, I’d be dead.”

I shake my head at him. “I can’t believe you were so ready to accept that fate.”

“Well, I thought I was gonna die like, fifteen different times recently, so yeah, I was ready.”

“I’m glad you’re alive. Now let’s get you to a Healer.”

* * *

Givenhow we left the gas station in a chaotic, gory, fiery mess, Trey and I conclude it’s best if we aren’t anywhere near Dennis’s car. The Royals or the cops are probably looking for it, so we ditch the car at the Walmart and head a few blocks down to a Greyhound station. Over my shoulders is a newly bought backpack filled with food, water, first aid supplies, and Trey’s jacket.

The sound of buses releasing air surrounds us as Trey and I step up to the Greyhound station. Correction: I step up. Trey is limping.

I’m glad I cleaned his face, because even without all the blood covering it, people are staring at us. More specifically, thewomenare staring at Trey.

I almost forgot what it’s like to be out in public with the YouTube-famous, gorgeous musician Trey Grant. In LA, we couldn’t walk into a single restaurant without someone approaching him for a picture. Thankfully, no one stops us as we make our way past all the people waiting on benches for their buses.

“How can I help y’all?” a lady says from behind the ticket counter. The name tag on her shirt readslatoya.

Trey flashes her a sweet smile. “Could I get ten tickets, please?”

The lady barely looks up at him from her computer. “Where to, sir?”

“I’ll take one-way tickets for the next buses to Los Angeles, San Diego, Las Vegas, New York, and Houston. Two each.”

Finally, the lady looks up at him. From behind her glasses, she knits her eyebrows together. “Is you sayin’ you want one bus that will take you to all dem places?”

“No. I’d like tickets for five different buses to all of those places. Two each.”

The lady skeptically eyes Trey, then me, then him again.

Trey doesn’t miss a beat. From his wallet, he holds out two hundred-dollar bills. “Please?”

Latoya doesn’t hesitate to seize the cash and stuff it down her bra. Sighing, she turns back to her computer. Then her long sparkly nails clack against the keyboard. “Don’t ask questions, Latoya. Don’t ask questions. Just mind ya damn business,” she mutters to herself.

A few minutes later, Latoya tells us our total. Trey pays all twelve hundred of it in cash, which only makes her shake her head at us more.

As she hands us five sets of tickets, she says, “Whatever y’all is up to, I ain’t want nothin’ to do with it. If anyone asks, I was just doin’ my damn job.”

“And if anyone asks,” Trey says, “we were never here.”

She flashes him a thumbs-up. “Deal. Now get outta here before y’all get my ass fired.”

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