The Divide (The Divide Series Book 1)

by Kaitlyn Kroner

  He turned to look down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Right.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the back of his head since he’d turned back around. I glanced back down toward the ground. I really wanted to sit. Or maybe sleep. Or maybe ea—

  “Things look clear,” Gregory said.

  “Okay, now what?” I asked. I winced at the pain of swallowing; my throat felt shredded.

  Gregory looked at me, his eyes roaming my body. “We’re going to find a place to stay, get showered, eat, and then sleep.”

  “How about sleep first?” I asked, just as my stomach growled in its emptiness.

  “Let’s find a place first,” he said, taking my hand. I peeked down at our combined hands but ignored the lone butterfly fluttering in my stomach. We walked down the street, staying in the shadows of the buildings and I hoped we would arrive wherever Gregory was taking us soon. My energy level was blaring, as the fumes were almost gone.

  Gregory finally stopped us in front of a derelict building, and I swayed on my feet. In large, bright blood-red colors, a sign read “Dissolution Inn.” I glimpsed over at Gregory with a quizzical look. He just shrugged his shoulders and walked inside, pulling me along with him. As we walked in, I wanted to walk right back out and find something much nicer. The walls were covered in crumbling flower wallpaper, the carpet might have been white at one time but was now a revolting brown—hopefully it was only mud that was stuck to those carpets—and the one and only couch, which sat across from the front desk, was missing a cushion and had massive holes with ashen stuffing spilling out. A dead potted plant sat next to the desk, the leaves all dried up. The desk itself was worn down with scrapes and gouges all over the front, and the man standing on the other side of the desk topped the whole place off—he was grimier than the room. His glasses were smudged so badly that I was surprised he could even see out of them. I really wanted to reach up and grab them so I could clean them for him. His short blond hair was sticking up all over the place like he had just had a conversation with a lightning bolt minutes before we’d walked in.

  “Wha’ can I get ya?” he asked with a deep voice. It was almost comical to hear a deep voice coming from someone that skinny. If I hadn’t been scared I would get some sort of disease by just breathing in the air, I would have laughed.

  “Just need a room,” Gregory said as he positioned himself in front of me. I couldn’t tell if he had done that to protect me from the seeing the desk clerk—too late—or the desk clerk from seeing me. If it was the latter, we would have to have a little talk about his caveman personality. I didn’t need to be protected.

  “Jus’one?” he asked. He tried to peer around Gregory to look at me.

  “Just one,” Gregory said.

  “It’ll be a hundred a night,” the desk clerk said.

  Gregory started to take out some money from his wallet and handed it over. I looked up at Gregory. “Gregory, I should ha—”

  Gregory turned toward me and scowled. I crossed my uninjured arm, which was not as intimidating as it would have been if I’d had two uninjured arms, and glared. I wanted to pay and I had the money for it. I looked up at the desk clerk to see him watching me with a gleam in his eyes. My body shuddered from the creepy stare and I glared back at Gregory and kept my mouth shut. Gregory paid for the rooms, and the guy pointed us in the direction of the room we were staying in. The moment we were locked inside our room, I rounded on Gregory.

  “Why didn’t you let me pay?” I asked.

  “What were you going to do exactly? Open up your wallet that holds more money than he’s ever seen and wait to see if we get robbed in the morning?” he said. He walked toward the bed and turned on the lamp.

  My mouth dropped opened as horror seeped inside my body. The lobby of the inn had nothing on the room we were staying in. The room was disgusting: the bed was covered in dust and milky brown stains—it was moldy, and a rotten smell was coming off of it—the floor was covered with crumbling paper. The smell of pee filled the room and I gagged a few times, swallowing bile that crept up my throat. I didn’t even want to know what the bathroom looked like if this is what the room was like. I was so tired, but I would have rather slept outside than in here. Gregory walked around the room like he was used to this; he probably was.

  “You should probably take a shower,” Gregory said.

  “You can have it first,” I said, still looking around. “I’m still getting used to the room.” I didn’t want to touch anything. I could possibly die just sleeping in this room.

  “Alright.” He walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind him, the shower turning on a few moments later.

  Maybe I could convince him to change places. Couldn’t we find something nicer? Cleaner? There had to be something a little better than this. We would just have to keep looking around. If I had to crawl around just to find a better place, I would. There would be no way we were staying here. We could catch something. With the way the bed looked, I could get pregnant just sitting on it, with my clothes still on. I wrinkled my nose as chills ran up my spine and I covered it with my hand, but it did little to block out the smell. It was nasty.

  I was still standing in the same place when the bathroom door opened and steam floated out, followed by Gregory. My eyes traveled to him without my permission. He was wearing nothing but a clean white towel around his waist, and I watched at the way the muscles in his chest and abdomen contracted as he made his way over to the bed. Wiping my mouth, checking to make sure no actual drool fell out, I'd watch him move. This was the first time I'd seen a guy this naked before. There was absolutely no fat on him, he was all muscle. He was God’s gift to women.

  “The bathroom is all yours,” he said, his head still bent over the duffel bag.

  Jumping at his voice, I cursed myself for staring, and moved. The bathroom was the only decent thing in the place. It wasn’t a hundred percent clean, but at least the bathroom smelled liked lemon and the towels smelled fresh. Thank God. I turned the water on and had my sling off before I realized I hadn’t brought anything to change into. Dropping the homemade sling on the sink and leaving the water on, I went out to grab some clothes. Now wearing pants, Gregory was still shuffling around the duffel bag, without a shirt. He looked up when I walked in.

  “I need clothes,” I mumbled lamely as I fumbled through my duffel bag and grabbed whatever was on top. I raced back into the bathroom, undressed quickly—carefully holding my arm—and took pleasure in the hot water pounding on my head and back. The water helped ease my headache, but it still was raging on like a storm. By the time I turned off the shower, the whole bathroom was completely fogged up. I took my time getting dressed in clean clothes. Trying to put the sling back on, I had difficulties tying the knot. So I kept my right arm upright and walked out into the room. Gregory had gotten rid of the dusty comforter from the bed and was sitting down on the sheets, and, unfortunately, had a shirt on.

  “Can you help me put the sling back on?” I asked, holding out the fabric. Gregory stood up and took it from my hand. Carefully putting the cloth through my arm, he tied it up at the top. The whole time I stared at his face, he had this cute, determined look on his face when he was tying it. Which I will never admit to anyone. When he was done, he moved around me and to the door.

  “I’m going to go grab some food.” He slid his leather jacket back on. “Lock this door as soon as I leave and don’t answer it. I have a key, so I’ll be able to get back in. If you hear anyone outside the door, lock yourself in the bathroom. Got it?”

  I stared at him. “Will anyone be coming here?”

  “Hopefully not,” he said. “I’m hoping no one noticed us earlier.” He opened the door and walked out, and I followed to lock it behind him. I took up his spot on the bed and waited, straining to hear anyone or anything. My heartbeat pounded in my head, making my headache worse and hearing anything else difficult. I used the time to brush through the knots that were still tangled in my hair. By the time I got all the
knots out, my head hurt ten times worse.

  Every muscle in my body tightened as noise shuffled by outside of the door. The door handle moved, and I jumped off the bed, making sure I’d be able to make it to the bathroom. The door creaked open and Gregory pushed through. My body sagged against the bed in relief. He was carrying a couple of brown bags, which were emitting some of the most delicious smells. I moved toward him and snatched one of the bags out of his hand. The smell was unbelievable and I moaned out in joy, my stomach growling with me.

  “Hungry?” he asked. I could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “Starved,” I said. I dug into the bag, taking out chips and stuffing them into my mouth: the food was mouthwatering. We sat on the bed and ate in silence, both sucking down the food as fast as we could. When I finished off the food and water, I placed the trash back into the bag and lay down on the bed. My headache was gone, but my eyelids were starting to be too heavy to keep open. I watched as Gregory placed both duffel bags in between us. I crooked an eyebrow.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “That way we won’t get in each other’s space.”

  “Got it,” I mumbled as my eyes closed.

  “Go to sleep,” Gregory murmured somewhere next to me.

  I ignored him as the dream world slipped me away from reality.

  Tingles of warm air caressed the back of my neck, so I leaned in closer toward the body heat behind me, the arm around my waist tightening. When I moved, my shirt raised a little bit, exposing my midriff, and I felt a calloused finger making tiny circles on my stomach, causing goose bumps to attack my body. I felt the muscled chest behind me breathe in and out, our breathing mirroring each other’s. At one point, I swear I felt a pair of lips press against my neck. I was comfortable; too comfortable.

  I didn’t want to wake up from this cozy dream and go back to my reality. I wanted to stay in this person’s arms and wanted to forget my life and forget the people who were after me. The fingers stopped playing circles on my stomach, and the large palm dragged across my stomach until it reached the other side, pulling me in even closer until my body mashed with his. My eyes popped open. The room was still dark, but some light shined through the cracks of the curtains. I peeked down at my waist—yup, it was definitely not a dream—a large arm was wrapped around my waist, and my body was plastered to a very muscular one behind me. A very muscular body I shouldn’t have been up against. I tried to swallow, but there seemed to be something stuck in my throat. I was positive we’d fallen asleep with both duffel bags in between us. What had happened to them?

  The vital question remained: how would I get myself out of his arms? But do I really want to? I’d slept much better last night than I had my whole life. It had to have been because I was over exhausted—nothing to do with the large Neanderthal behind me. I shouldn’t have been cuddled up with some guy because I was technically “engaged” to Tyler. That was if he was still alive. My heart panged at the thought of Tyler; I hadn’t thought of him since the library. I wondered if he was okay and hoped he’d made it out. There was no need to be mad at him about what had happened; he'd apologized. Instead of running away to make sure I lived, I should have been planning a future with him. Thinking of Tyler made me wonder if there would ever be a time when I could go back home, to pick up where I had left off. My father had made an excellent choice by choosing Tyler to be my husband; he was a natural-born leader, and I’d had a crush on him for a long time. We could be happy. Yet I’d have to be okay with becoming friends with Mandy and Sarah. The upside though was if Tyler was to become the Leader, I would be able to do what I wanted, and I wanted to teach, to help others.

  Fingers gripped into my flesh, erasing all thoughts of Tyler out of my mind. My heart raced and my skin tingled as Gregory started slowly moving his hand back and forth—caressing my stomach—his fingers slowly moving up and down. A gasp escaped before I could stop it and Gregory’s hand stopped at once, I could feel his body stiffen behind me. He moved his hand up and away from me, and I felt the bed dip as he rolled over and off of it. I watched his silhouette as he strode to the bathroom, and had to squint at the blinding light Gregory turned on until he closed the bathroom door behind him. A few seconds later, the shower turned on. I already missed the warmth of his body. No, no I don’t.

  Shaking my head, I heaved myself out of the bed. Scrounging on the floor, I found the missing duffel bags on Gregory's side; sometime in the night he must have moved them. I grabbed mine and took out the items I needed for the day. I was dressed and brushing my hair when he finally emerge out of the bathroom. His dark, chocolate-brown hair was dripping water onto his shirt.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Why did you take another shower? You took one last night.”

  He scratched the back of his neck and mumbled something about needing a cold shower. I raised a brow but didn’t comment. He went to the side of the bed, sat down, and started putting on his black boots. “We should get something to eat. And try to find anything useful while we’re at it.”

  I nodded. “That sounds good. Listen, Gregory, I wan—”

  “We should get going,” he said, cutting me off. Getting up from the bed, Gregory walked toward the door. I closed my eyes and counted to ten to calm the irritation rising within me. I opened them and glared at his back but quickly smoothed my features when he turned toward me.

  “Should we bring anything?”

  “Leave the duffel bags, but bring your purse and backpack just in case we can’t come back to the room,” he said.

  I grabbed my bags and followed Gregory out the door. We walked in silence on the way to breakfast. Few people were out, and each person we saw seemed to be in some type of hurry.

  I followed Gregory into a small decaying building: tables and chairs took up most of the floor space. Toward the back, a door swung opened and closed after someone with a tray of food went through. Gregory asked one of the waitresses for a small private booth near the back, and we followed her to the back and sat down. After we looked through the small menu and ordered our food and drinks, the waitress took our menus away and walked to the back room. An awkward silence fell between Gregory and me. He was looking everywhere but at me.

  “Gregory, is something wrong?” I asked. I snaked the loose hairs behind my ears.

  He gave me a calculated look. “No. There aren’t many people here yet.”

  “What time is it?” I looked around. There were only four other people in the place. I’d been too preoccupied by the smell of food to notice it as we walked in. The place was practically empty.

  “Around seven,” he said.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe work.”

  “People work this early?” I hated going to school this early.

  He gave me an annoyed look. “Yes, princess, people work this early. Sometimes even earlier than this.”

  I glared at him. Back to the nicknames. “I didn’t know. I still have a lot to learn. I’m still new at this.”

  “Hopefully not for long,” he said, once again looking everywhere but at me.

  I looked down at the frayed yellow placemat. My finger scratched against the placemat, as I tried to ignore the way I wanted to stab him with the fork that lay in front of my hand. It felt wrong to constantly think of ways to hurt him, but then he’d open his mouth and that feeling would go away. As I propped my elbow on the table, I cradled my head in my hand and wondered what could be up Gregory's ass today; was it a stick? A metal pole? Maybe I could ask him and start a fight; I really wanted to start a fight with someone.

  Food entered my vision, and my stomach growled hungerily. Food was the only thing that made my happy—it would always make me happy. People talked about how they couldn’t wait to meet their soul mate, but I already had one: food. I truly believed food was my soul mate. We ate in silence, which was nice. I stopped thinking of ways I wanted to fork him and thought more about wanting to get to know him. My mind liked to flip-flop when it cam
e to how I felt about him. But maybe if I had known him better, I wouldn’t have wanted to plot ways to hurt him when he opened his mouth. I barely knew anything about him and I wanted to know what his friends were like, what he thought of his job, if he had a girlfriend. Strictly for educational purposes. Not for any other reason. Also, I wanted to know what it was like to grow up in his family. What kind of future did he have? Would he ever get married? Was he a good leader? What would it be like to kiss him? My fork dropped to my plate as I choked on my food. Gregory cocked a brow but then returned to eating. I coughed a few times, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, trying to unstick the food that was currently holding up residence in my throat. Gregory leaned over and thumped me hard on the back, which helped free the trapped food. Swallowing, I grabbed my water and chugged it down. After I was finished, I set the cup down and looked around; watching as a few more people filtered in the shop.

  I glared at Gregory. “You didn’t have to smack me that hard.” He just shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. Conversations started to rise as more and more people trickled in. It appeared Gregory and I had come in at the right time, as the place started to fill up. An elderly couple sat down next to us, the wife smiling warmly at me. Returning the smile, I turned my attention back to a sullen-looking Gregory. “What is wro—” My voice died down as I listened to the couple’s conversation. My spine straightened and Gregory’s face turned serious.

  “Supposedly the daughter is missing,” the older man said.

  “Hopefully she got out before everything went down,” the woman said. “Or she’s already dead like her mother, so she won’t have to face those men.”

  My heart stopped and then immediately picked back up at a run. My mother was dead. I could feel the blood drain from face and roar in my ears. I stared at the couple and ignored the burning holes Gregory's eyes were making; I couldn't turn my attention away from the older couple.