I laugh, thinking of the big conflict that brings the story to a head. A massive zombie attack takes them by storm. They’re used to fighting them off a pack at a time—Libby with the chainsaw and Nick with his axe—but this time, they’re stuck fighting an army. The battle seems to go all night.
Luckily, the two come out alive. But later the next day, as they nurse one another’s wounds, they discover that both Libby and Nick had been bitten during the battle.
Now, they’re both officially half-Zs; half zombie and half human. They’ll remain in this formative state—an incubation period of sorts—for approximately nine months or until their human genes are fully replaced by that of the zombie. That’s when they shift into full-Z mode and start moaning and eating brains. Except, full-Zs are just called zombies.
This is the part in the script where things started to get fuzzy.
“So let me see if I understand the crux,” I say, since he reads scripts for a living. “There’s a legend out there that says if one half-Z kisses another half-Z during the incubation period, it will reverse the process.”
“Right,” Dawson says. “If the legend’s correct, the kiss will cause their human genetics to combine, multiply, and eventually suffocate the zombie genes altogether.”
Now’s where the real trouble comes in. “But Libby thinks that Nick might have been bitten by a zompire because his wound looks different from hers.” Zompire is just what it sounds like; a hybrid vampire/zombie. Libby doesn’t have actual confirmation that zompires exist, but since zombies were once a thing of legends too, she’s not ruling it out.
“Yes,” Dawson says. “If that’s the case, one kiss from Libby will set Nick’s blood thirst ablaze. If she’s not careful, he’ll drink her dry on the spot, becoming a full zompire and live forever.” He lets out a dark, maniacal laugh.
“Hey…” I toss a pillow at him for his brazen disregard for my character.
“Poor little Libby…she must find out the truth or suffer the gory wrath.”
I can’t help but grin. “I’m curious to see if Nick is a half-Z or a zompire.”
“I like how you’re already speaking the lingo.” A quiet shuffle sounds, alerting me that he’s shifting position.
I peel open my eyes just enough to glance over and see him propping himself with one elbow. “And I hate to say it, but you’re not going to know what Nick is. Not until the last scene plays out.”
My brow scrunches as I prop myself up as well. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s inmyscript, but not yours.”
“How do you know?”
Dawson smiles and shakes his head. “I can tell by the script. That’s why they havehisandhers.”
The truth is, I tried to skip ahead and find out whether Dawson’s character is who he says he is.“No wonder I couldn’t find it,” I say. “I thought I was just…missing it somehow.”
“Nope. It’s not in there.”
I lose steam at this thought and allow myself to flop rather dramatically onto my back. “Fine.” I can’t help but think the show reflects the crux of our dilemma. Dawson says he’s changed, I’m trying to find out if that’s true.
“I can tip you off, if you’d like,” Dawson offers in a mischievous tone.
I let my eyes flutter closed and exhale loudly. “How’s that?” I ask, working to sound nonchalant. I’m about to grab blindly for my drink when I sense him scooting closer. Suddenly, Dawson’s fingertips trickle over my wrist, then trail, ever so slowly, up the inside of my arm. “It’s all in the kiss, right?” he says, voice low and seductive.
My heart jumps. My breath hitches. And a rush of tingly, yummy heat stirs in my tummy. I bite my bottom lip, eyes still closed, and wait for him to continue.
I feel Dawson’s nearness as he lowers his head. His breath tickles the side of my face, right at my temple.
“If you’re up for a little rehearsal time, we can go straight to the final scene. We can act it out twice. With one kiss, I’ll behave like a human, with the other, I’ll kiss you the way a zompire would. If you can tell which is which, I’ll tell you which group Nick belongs to.”
Holy smokes.
My body breaks into a state of chaos, mind racing like it’s trying to keep pace with my pounding heart.Calm, Brinley.He can’t know he has this kind of effect on me. Besides, I realize, once I grasp a rational thread in my head—the difference between the two would be obvious.
I shrug onto my shoulder and open my eyes. I’d almost forgotten how bright it is.
Dawson straightens up slightly, putting distance between us once more, but not a lot. I can still smell that incredible aftershave of his. Either it’s waterproof, or it clings to the towel beneath him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that scent was put here to make me crumble.
“There’s one problem with that,” I say.
