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Wade made her dinner today, left the house on his own and plucked a flower from her hair.

It’s been easy to let herself get lost in the sense of domesticity that’s blanketed them. Two people in a little house tucked away in the woods with a dog at their feet. Nothing to do but talk, eat…and touch.

She doesn’t push for when and how that should happen. That’s up to him. The ball is in his court but she can’t help but feel excited anticipation knowing he could try at any moment.

It could be something tiny and tender, or a giant leap all at once.

Kara has no expectations. Whatever he can give is enough, but she isn’t prepared for how her own body has turned against her.

A shiver of shame runs up her spine at knowing she’s been aroused all day.

Her attraction to Wade is nothing new. It’s been the devil on her shoulder since they met.

She was always able to tamp down her physical response to that, though.

May have had a few moments of weakness over the years when she thought of him while finding relief, but even that was few and far between.

She has never been willing to risk their friendship in search of more, and if he’s ever felt desire for her, then he hid it well.

Now, the concept of him touching her at random has her worked up when it shouldn’t. This isn’t some elaborate game of foreplay. It’s far more important and a betrayal to the man across from her to entertain any fantasies, even for a moment.

They’re playing cards on the bed. Poker with no prizes.

The dog followed them, limping along with his giant flip-flopping ears to rest on Kara’s floor mattress.

They’ll have a hard time getting him off that later, she thinks, trying to focus on the fact that she’s losing this game instead of how she’s soaked.

Nothing can or will happen. It’s not a remote possibility, but her body has a mind of its own anyway, leaving her frustrated.

How dare she let her reactions overtake her after everything Wade’s been through?

If he had any idea that she’s been walking around this house for hours in a state of persistent arousal, he’d never trust her again.

Her guilt and self-loathing are as heavy as the frown on her lips while eyeing her cards.

“You got a shit poker face,” he says.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“That bad, huh? The cards?”

She smirks. “Oh, I should just tell you? Is that how this game works?”

He shrugs. “May as well. I can already see you got a bad hand.”

She sighs, showing him her cards and watching as his brows shoot up.

“Have you played poker before?”

“Sure. Once. I might have been tipsy at the time.”

“It’s all making sense now,” he replies. “You’ve got yourself a full house right there.”

“That’s good?”

“That’s more than good. Beat me hands down.” He tosses his own cards onto the mattress to reveal them. “Good thing we didn’t bet on anything.”

“Maybe we should. Apparently, I’m better at this than I thought.”

“We’ve got nothing to bet with unless you want my collection of flowers and they’re not up for grabs.”

He’s got three of them on his side table. One is already beginning to brown and die but the other two are still healthy as the moment they were picked, arranged in the same cup with plenty of space for more.

She lets herself smile, happy he’s found comfort in something she only hoped he’d recognize. “I don’t have much to bet with, either. Guess we’re still playing for bragging rights?”

“Guess so. We can brag to the dog. He looks pretty interested.”

The dog in question lies on his back below them, legs in the air like someone forgot how to assemble him properly.

“You did win, though…” he says softly. “I should give you something. Not that it’s any sort of gift. Or that it even makes sense. Forget it. I dunno what I’m saying.”

She doesn’t understand until he grows shy, stuttering around his words. Then she’s already so excited she can’t stop the tingle shooting up her spine. “Where?”

He doesn’t answer but his hand lifts, lingering in the air for a moment before approaching her hand curled around her knee.

She isn’t sure how to react. If she should follow his movements, offer some physical feedback, or stay completely still.

Doesn’t want to make the wrong choice but then their fingertips connect and she just knows.

Her hand lifts until their palms face each other and she waits.

Electricity flows against her in a promise of what’s coming, then all at once their palms meet, warm and solid.

It’s a painfully slow process as their hands weave together before resting connected on the mattress between them.

It’s easy to tell he’s overwhelmed. Wade’s breathing is labored, and his pupils have dilated to twice their size. His other hand fists the bedsheets to crush a playing card in its grip.

What did they do to him, she thinks sadly. How bad could it have been that something so small triggers such a deep response?

“Just breathe,” she tells him, having to force herself not to rub her thumb over his knuckles. “It’s just me. I’ll never hurt you, you know that.”

He nods with a heavy exhale. “Dunno why know it’s so hard. I hate that it is.”

“You can let it feel however it feels. Don’t get hung up on that part, okay?”

The book she read forever ago had plenty of tips for overcoming things like a fear of spiders, heights, or claustrophobia. It never touched on this level of trauma, though, and she knows she’s taking a huge risk. It could all so easily backfire until he’s afraid to try again.

When he snatches his hand back into his own space, her heart sinks. She watches him leave the bed and pace a rut into the floor, his frustration with himself plain to see.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, returning a moment later to take up the spot across from her after having shaken out a couple of ounces of stress.

“I’m not. That’s still a win. There’s no stopwatch keeping track of how long you can maintain it.”

The only thing left to do now is try to take his mind off this. She needs the distraction just as badly, or she’ll get sucked down the depressing rabbit hole of knowing her touch bothers him so much that he’s begun to sweat.

“Tell me something about you I don’t yet,” she tries. “Anything. You know about my tattoo and a few other random facts. It’s my turn to get one now.”

He pauses, brows creasing as he thinks. “You know everything about me already.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He is the closest person to her, but she certainly doesn’t know everything about him.

They’ve gone long stretches without seeing each other, even before his abduction when the everyday hassle of life would pull them in opposite directions.

Every year, he would still show up at her door with a cupcake on her birthday, though.

Take her dancing and drinking, and spend the evening doing ridiculous things like singing Karaoke.

“I used to dream about going to Arizona,” he answers.

“What’s in Arizona?”

“Nothing. That’s the point. I mean, I’m sure there’s something. Probably got big cities and had plenty of people. It just always looked…peaceful. Desolate. Beautiful. All that desert to explore. No one around to bother you.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Pfft. Because it didn’t matter. I wasn’t ever going. Not back then and definitely not now.”

She imagines him dreaming of road trips out west. Exploring the red sand deserts and getting lost where no one could find him. “Colorado was always on my list. They have three hundred days of sun. You know there’s nothing stopping us anymore, right?”

“Except the threat of the undead, lack of gas, and sparse supplies?”

She huffs. “Well, there’s that. ”

“Is that really where you’d wanna go if you could? Colorado? Thought about other places, too?”

She pauses, uncertain if she should reply truthfully, but on the list of things they keep from each other, it’s relatively small, so she caves.

“Everything out west. Colorado, Arizona, California. The map is large, and there’s nothing but time now.

Why not see a few things before fate sends a rotter for me? ”

“I don’t think it’s rotters you gotta worry about anymore. It’s other live people that’ll get us.”

“Okay, this conversation is taking a turn,” she teases carefully.

“What if I can never leave this place ?” he asks, suddenly. “You’ve thought about that, right? All this talk about traveling and we’re ignoring the possibility that I’ll be a shut-in forever.”

“I have thought about it.”

“Physically, I might eventually be able to leave. But maybe I never…fit somewhere else again. Not that I ever did before.”

Kara never fit either. Doesn’t tell him that though, because it’ll sound like she’s agreeing he may always be an outcast. “You fit just fine right here with me. If that means we hold down the fort in this house forever, then that’s what we’ll do.

One day at a time. You’re already shattering a lot of what-ifs. ”

She isn’t foolish enough to think he’ll abandon the idea of going back to the community yet. It’s still there, under the surface, as the backup plan he thinks she needs for her safety. At least he’s thinking of alternate options now, even if they are depressing worst-case scenarios.

“Few more games of poker?” she asks. “Teach me how to play better so I can beat you again?”

He smirks. “Alright.”

* * *

“Should we put a leash on him?” Kara says.

“Don’t have a leash.”

“A rope? Think he’d let us?”

Wade frowns down at the dog, who took a crap on the carpet a few minutes ago and may very well have to pee soon if they don’t take him out. “I think we open the door and see what happens.”

“He could run away.”

“And go where? We feed him here.”

She supposes he’s right. The food lives here. If the dog is hungry, he knows where to find it. She’s still afraid to lose him, though, and watches with her breath held tight while he limps out the door to pee on a tree.

He does not turn around right away to come back in.