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I shake my head, ridding the thoughts of Reed doing dirty things to me. I need to get laid, and I doubt he would be willing to stick his cock inside me. Most straight men wouldn’t.

“I found a car; let’s go.”

Reed turns on his heel, leading me towards an older Camry. As we near the car, I feel this stab of anger towards Reed. I’m not even sure why, but the weight in my chest, the tightening and uncomfortable feeling building deep inside. He has no care for others. I’m not even sure why I’m tagging along.

My fist tightens at my side as Reed rounds the car and climbs inside on the driver's side. He’s nonchalant and annoying. He doesn’t speak more than two words, and it’s frustrating.

“Noah!” Reed snaps.

Meeting his gaze over the car, it doesn’t surprise me when I take in his narrowed eyes. He’s probably wondering why he’s sticking with me as well.

I don’t say anything; swinging the passenger door open, I climb inside. Leaning against the door, I keep looking outside the window, refusing to acknowledge Reed. I’m left stuck in this swirling mess of emotions, wanting to lash out at him when I don’t have a clear reason to. So instead of yelling at him for crushing a dead man's skull, I let the storm of emotion work chaotically in my head.

* * *

He drives for hours,and it takes even longer to get rid of the sight of Reed’s foot crushing into those skulls. I was never made for this life; my parents kept me sheltered until I left for college. At some point I needed to get out of their hands and live life for myself. I heard all the stories about how college is wild; you get to be a different version of yourself. I was excited. That is until everything happened. When the dead were no longer dead and started eating people.

Now I feel like I have no idea who I am or what I’m supposed to be doing. Why do I continue to fight to stay alive?

I peer over at Reed, who's been just as silent. At first I didn’t mind it; I was angry at him for being disrespectful towards the dead. But now, I'm bored and growing restless just sitting here.

“So, why are we going to Georgia?” I ask. This is the second time I’ve asked, and the feeling that he’s not going to tell me doesn’t sit well with me.

“You know I can just keep asking questions. It’s no sweat off my back.”

Reed doesn’t bother looking at me, not even a single glance. Well, that just won’t do.

“Fine, we’ll move on to another question. Have you always been this moody?” Leaning against the passenger door, I turn my attention towards Reed. If I’m going to be stuck with a stranger, I think I would rather know them. Just a little bit, anyways.

“Okay, so the moody thing is another no-go question. Fine, alright, let me think,” tapping along my chin as if I’m deep in thought. “What’s your favorite color?”

When he doesn’t say anything, a pang of gnawing frustration nearly grabs me by the balls. Or it’s the fact I have some type of blue balls. I’m craving attention, and for some reason I want it from him. I just want to be seen, so if that means annoying him, then I guess that's what I will do.

“Come on, it’s an easy one. Simple really, like here, my favorite color is pink.”Pink like the tip of a cock that I want down my throat.But I don’t bother saying that. It would probably have him freaking out and running for the hills. Or I could just say it and make the man squirm in the seat.

“How do you feel about gay people?” I blurt out.

A small smile spreads across my lips when Reed's hand tightens around the steering wheel. A-ha, something that does get under his skin.

“Are you homophobic?”

“No.” He grunts out.

Well, that seemed to get through to him, somewhat anyway.

“This is going to be a long drive if you don’t talk.”

“Says who?”

“Me. I do. I mean, we’ve already established I like conversations; I like talking. So it’s going to be a long and very tiresome ride if we can’t talk.”

I shouldn’t be surprised when he goes back to ignoring me. His hand loosens on the wheel as if he’s just at ease. I’m not sure if I’m getting under his skin or he’s getting under mine. But the silence is getting to me.

“Stop the car.”

Reed glances at me, his brow furrowed. But he does nothing to stop the car.

“Stop the car,” I tell him again. “Reed, stop the car!” I yell.