Radio Silence

by Alyssa Cole

  “I was thinking about what’s going to happen if we run out of food,” I lied, and then felt even worse because I hadn’t been and it was something we needed to take into consideration.

  “No, you weren’t. You were finding some reason to wriggle out of the fact that you like my brother.”

  “Okay, have you developed some post–head injury psychic powers?” I asked, pushing up on my elbows. I kind of hoped he had. Maybe then we would finally know what was going on.

  “Right now I’m using this star finder wheel to determine exactly what constellations will be above us today. Because the night sky doesn’t change much, I know where Saturn will be, and Mars and Orion,” he said. He glanced at me and arched a brow. “You’re just as predictable. This moping and navel-gazing usually precedes the ‘I just don’t think he’s right for me’ speech you use to justify your independent woman hang-up.”

  Ouch. Someone had been paying close attention to my dating habits over the past few years, and it certainly wasn’t me. I wanted to be mad, but I couldn’t deny what he said. Not a word of it.

  “What’s wrong with not wanting to be dependent on a man?” It was wonderful to know that Gabriel wanted to keep me safe, but it felt like giving something up to admit that I didn’t want to do everything on my own.

  “Nothing’s wrong with that.” The way he said the words, a disdainful drawl, indicated he thought otherwise. He made an adjustment to his star wheel, and then turned an exasperated gaze in my direction. “But you’re not Miss Independence—you’re a human who enjoys affection. And Gabriel isn’t just another one of your hapless dates—he’s my brother. I love you, and I have no problem with anything happening between you two, so I’ll say this nicely. Don’t fuck with my brother’s emotions.”

  My stomach lurched. “Weren’t you the one encouraging me to have sweaty monkey sex with him?”

  “Yes, but that was then. Now I see the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. And then I see you in here trying to talk yourself out of it.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t hurt your brother,” I said. “Let’s keep it real. He’d be the one to end up hurting me. That’s how these things work with hot doctors, right?”

  John stopped fiddling with his star wheel. “Arden, it would be really sad if even the freaking apocalypse couldn’t get you to drop your defenses and let someone in. I’ve never seen Gabriel react to someone quite the way he does to you. He can be an overbearing jerk, but I can tell you from experience that he’s a sensitive overbearing jerk.”

  John’s voice wasn’t harsh; however, for him to say anything at all meant he was really worried.

  “I guess I am pretty predictable,” I admitted. I dropped my head back onto my pillow.

  “I’ve seen enough guys leaving our apartment with their heads hung low to know your modus operandi. But most of those guys were losers, to be honest. Especially that guy who kept drinking my Diet Coke. He needed to go.”

  “Which guys weren’t losers?” I asked hesitantly. Diet Coke Thief aside, I’d always thought I just had really bad taste in men. I hadn’t considered that I might have been part of the problem.

  John sighed. “That’s not important. Some of them were nice, just not right for you. One or two were on the down-low, if that makes you feel better.”

  “Not really. I thought my gaydar was on point.” I sighed.

  John went back to studying his star guide without saying anything.

  “What if Gabriel is into me because I’m the only option he has?” I asked quietly.

  John put down his star wheel and gave me a look that managed to be withering and full of love at the same time. “Fishing for compliments is gauche. Besides, Gabriel isn’t like that. He’s not very good at faking emotions, if you didn’t notice during your first few interactions with him. He only plays nice when he means it.”

  “You really don’t mind if Gabriel and I...” become post-apocalyptic fuck buddies? “...see each other?”

  “As long as you spare me the details,” John said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s bad enough that today I found out that my parents are still getting it on.” He shuddered dramatically.

  An image of my parents flashed in my head. Not doing it—thankfully, I’d never walked in on that—but dancing across the living room to Motown oldies, looking into each other’s eyes and laughing. They always laughed together. I tried to hold on to that image of them, that good memory, to avoid wandering down the mental path that was peppered with questions about their current well-being.

  No matter what was going on, it was nice to think that my parents, in Cali, and John’s parents, wherever they’d disappeared to, were making each other happy.

  “I hope our parents are all getting it on somewhere right now,” I said, letting the sudden drowsiness I felt envelop me as I drifted into a nap.

  “Together?” John’s voice drifted over. “What is wrong with you, Arden?”

  I smiled and slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My nap came to an abrupt halt when Maggie burst into the room.

  “Time to get dressed!” she said. She flung something silky and black into my face and tossed John a tweed jacket to wear over his T-shirt.

  I groggily pulled the material from over my head and blinked at it. It was black with little pink flowers scattered across it. “So John gets a cool professor jacket, and I get a bathrobe. Okay, then,” I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

  “It’s not a bathrobe, it’s a kimono, and a really nice one at that,” she said, vibrating with nervous energy. She’d spent the whole afternoon preparing for the party, and her excitement showed. “PS, Arden, it’s not like I could run out to the mall.”

  I shrugged and rolled out of bed, holding the silk robe out in front of me. It bore the scent of mothballs, but it really was beautiful. The hem pooled around my feet, meaning it would have been midankle on a non-Lilliputian person. I realized I was really going to have to learn how to sew if things didn’t get back to normal.

  “I thought kimonos were Japanese,” I said, plucking at the wide sleeves.

  “They are, but people give my parents all kinds of Asian things because they assume we’re all the same. We also have some Chinese-style dresses and a random karate uniform.”

  I was tempted to take the karate uniform and stopped when I thought of Gabriel’s warm gaze raking over my body. My bruises had finally faded and I’d been beaten my hair into some semblance of order, but it would be good to feel more than presentable. Sexy. Desirable. I’d spent enough time fantasizing about Gabriel’s strong hands and soft lips, and it was nice to imagine knocking his socks off for once.

  “I love it,” I said, dropping the kimono on the bed and pulling my T-shirt up over my head.

  “I’m going to go get ready,” Maggie said, hurrying out of the room.

  “I’m going to go...somewhere where I’m safe from half-naked black girls thrusting their asses in my face,” John said playfully from behind me as I bent over to pull off my jeans.

  “Nowhere is safe!” I called after him as he strutted out of the room, rocking his tweed jacket as if we were at Fashion Week instead of in Bumblefuck during the zombiepocalypse, or whatever was going on outside.

  I slid the kimono on and the silk felt wonderful against my skin, richer than I was used to and somehow sensuous. I secured the belt around my waist and stepped up to the mirror, where I undid my braids and fluffed my hair so that it surrounded my face in a kinky halo. My mane was a sad replica of its former glory, but it would do for the night. I swiped on the pink-tinted lip gloss Maggie had given me earlier in the week so I’d stop complaining about ChapStick withdrawal. The color worked well with my dark skin, giving my lips a natural-looking shimmer.

  I gazed at myself with satisfaction, having fun with what used to be part of my normal weekend ritual. I ran my hands over the kimono, gathering the excess material in my hand and moving my hips a
s I spun around to imagined music. If things were normal, I would be getting ready for a night of dancing with my friends. As I moved to the music in the club, I would look across the room and see a pair of golden eyes staring at me, following my every move...

  I noticed motion in my peripheral vision. Gabriel stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame in that insouciant way that had grabbed my attention during our first encounter in this room. His gaze wasn’t weighed down with feigned laziness this time though. It was hungry. Ravenous, even. It seemed to me as though much too long had passed since we last touched each other, and the feeling was apparently mutual.

  I made a yip of surprise as I stopped in my tracks, probably the least sexy thing I could have done in that moment, but his gaze only burned into me more. He took a step toward me, and I finally tore my gaze away from his and noticed what he was wearing. He always looked well put together, even in sweats, but Gabriel dressed up just wasn’t fair. He’d used product to tame his shaggy waves, which curled perfectly around his ears. One button of his crisp black shirt had been left undone, revealing the creamy skin at the hollow of his neck and a bit of his smooth chest. I wanted to place my lips there, to feel his heartbeat against my lips. Not wanted—needed.

  He reached me in two large strides, his dark denim jeans just snug enough to hint at the lean musculature of his legs as he walked.

  “Is that what you’ll sound like?” he asked in a low, urgent tone. He was so close to me, too close, and I had to tilt my head back to see his face. A wicked grin graced lips that were pink as a berry and, I already knew well, soft as silk.

  “Huh?” I replied, unable to focus on his words with him crowding out everything in his proximity, including my common sense. I had wanted him to see me, to notice me, but I hadn’t prepared beyond that.

  “Is that what you’ll sound like when you’re under me, or over me, or however you’ll have me?” he asked, sliding one hand up my back and resting it against my neck to ease the strain of looking up at him. The scent of something subtle but masculine wafted from him. Cologne? It wasn’t aftershave. There was the faintest shadow of stubble on his chin, short prickly hairs that could scrape across my neck, my breast, my inner thighs...each part of my body throbbed as I imagined him teasing me with the friction. A sweet ache bloomed between my legs that could only be soothed by his touch. His calloused fingers slid into the hair at the nape of my neck, exerting just enough pressure to direct my gaze up. I wanted to feel his rough touch lower on my person, but even his fingers in my hair had me biting my lip against a moan.

  He leaned down a bit closer, his deep voice triggering a shiver. It was like a low note on a guitar, one that resonated within you long after the higher notes had faded.

  “Every time I’ve touched you, you’ve sounded different. I’ve been staying up nights wondering what you’ll sound like when I really get you close to the edge. Will you cry out loudly, so I have to cover your mouth with mine to quiet you? Or will you make sweet little noises, like that one?”

  By the time he was done talking, my head had lolled back, completely held up by his hand, and his lips were just inches from my own. Heat flooded my body at the thought of what he would do to find out the answer to his questions. Knowing Gabriel’s perfectionist streak, and having felt his hands on my skin and his lips against mine, I had no doubt that he was fully capable of pulling sounds I hadn’t thought in my vocal range from me.

  But still, I couldn’t let him know that all it took was a few words to leave me so needy that I was ready to blow off game night for the promise of what his lips and hands and other important appendages could do.

  “You’re feeling cocky, Dr. Seong,” I said, lifting my head from his hand and taking a step back. “Who says you can get anything out of me?”

  His eyes narrowed at the challenge, and his other hand slid into the opening in my kimono. It traced an excruciatingly slow path up my inner thigh, the drag of his fingertips leaving a sparking trail of heat in its wake. The closer he got to my juncture, the slower he moved. I had always categorized my legs as stubby, but the torment dragged on as if I had gams for miles. His face was still close to mine, gaze locked on me while he taunted me with those magic fingers. My nipples were taut against the material of the kimono and my knees actually shook in anticipation as his hand moved ever upward. My breath caught in my throat when he reached my apex, finally, and cupped me. I couldn’t hide my shallow breaths, or the fact that I was damp with desire for him.

  He smiled that lazy smile.

  “Seems like I’ve gotten something out of you already,” he whispered, his fingers giving me the lightest of strokes over my underwear. Something hot and desperate throbbed in my belly.

  “Arrogant bastard,” I whispered back. We were so close that my lips brushed against his as I spoke.

  The bathroom door slammed from down the hall, and we jumped away from each other, the brush of his hand as he pulled it away sending a pulse of need coursing through me. I hastily straightened my robe, and he turned to examine a book lying on the bed, hiding his evident excitement.

  “Come on, guys!” Maggie hurried past the door in a hot pink tutu topped with a tied-off black T-shirt. Black high-heeled booties and a green dealer’s visor completed the look. “The casino in purgatory is officially open for business!”

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” Gabriel said. He retraced his steps, walking backward out of the room like he wasn’t quite ready to look away from me.

  I took a shuddering breath. I’d wanted to make Gabriel squirm, but he’d still managed to gain the upper hand. This called for extreme measures. I shimmied out of my underwear before retying my kimono and hurrying out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maggie had prepared a delicious ziti for dinner using a cast-iron Dutch oven she’d found in the cellar. The unholy union of carbohydrates, melted cheese baked in the hearth and lycopenes combined to form the perfect comfort food, and we all ate with gusto, not worrying about rations or leftovers for once.

  “Eat, drink and be merry,” John said, candlelight reflecting in the glass of red wine he raised. We all returned his salute, even Maggie. Gabriel’s attempt to stop her from drinking a small amount had been overruled.

  “For tomorrow we may die!” she finished with giddy emphasis, sending a pointed look at Gabriel before taking a gulp. “Ugh! This tastes like dirty sock juice.” She made a disgusted face, but then took another large sip.

  “Easy there, Mags,” I said. “You only get one glass, and then it’s grape juice for you.”

  I glanced at Gabriel. I could see that he wasn’t pleased about her drinking, but he was trying very hard not to ruin Maggie’s night.

  “It’s an acquired taste,” he said with a smile in her direction, sending her a wink. Her responding smile was radiant, and I was struck again by how much his opinion meant to her, despite her griping. The relationship between siblings was a mystery to me, but I was glad that Gabriel was suppressing his natural inclinations so that his sister could have fun.

  I didn’t realize that I was staring at him with a goofy smile on my face until he glanced in my direction and winked at me too. My cheeks burned, and I placed my glass on the table. The wine was delicious and fruity, but perhaps it would be wise to take my own advice.

  Maggie stood abruptly, flashing a wad of multihued Monopoly cash, drawing all of our attention to her. “Are you ready to lose your money to the best dealer in town?” she asked brightly. She was so eager for us to have a good time, her occasional teenage sullenness replaced by a near-manic desire to please. I thought of all the fun nights I’d had with my friends since my teenage years, all the things she might not experience if life didn’t return to normal, and found myself blinking away a random surge of tears. This night was more important than I’d realized, and I was going to do my best to make sure it went well.

  “You have to teach me to play before you fleece me,” I said, rising and linking arms with her as we he
aded toward the living room. I drew in a breath as we entered. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  While we’d been lounging around, Maggie had been busy. The sofas had been dragged to one side of the room, facing a makeshift stage. She’d hung curtains on the wall to create the stage, and her guitar leaned against the wall, waiting to be played. In the space left empty by the rearranged furniture, she’d set up a poker table using a foldable banquet. Stacks of chips and decks of cards were organized neatly at the dealer’s station, where she headed after wriggling free from my hold.

  She sat down in her seat and looked at us expectantly, so we took our seats in front of her, making happy observations between sips of wine about what a great job she had done.

  “This is amazing, sis,” Gabriel’s voice rumbled from the seat next to me. “I can’t believe what you managed in such a short amount of time. Way to go!”

  He reached over and playfully knocked her visor askew. She tried to feign annoyance, but her cheeks were flushed with pride, and from the wine, as she set the visor aright.

  “Okay folks, here are the rules...” she said, suddenly all business. “Jacks or better to start, joker’s wild, no funny business.”

  The next couple of hours passed with an abundance of laughter interspersed with tense standoffs between the siblings as they battled over Monopoly money. I didn’t know how to play, and although they all tried to help me at various points, my progress wasn’t so quick as to pose any real competition for them. I was down to my last few chips, chewing my lip in frustration as I decided whether to fold or go all-in. The fact that Gabriel sat next to me, legs spread wide so that his thigh and knee pressed into mine, was not helping. The rub of denim against silk was like the meeting of flint to stone. Each contact caused sparks of sensation to cascade through my body, and in each exquisite spark was the threat of dangerous heat that could blaze out of control.

  Maggie raised her eyebrows at me, waiting to hear my decision. John sighed loudly and grumbled about amateur hour. Gabriel’s gaze was trained on the cards he cupped in one hand. His other hand was under the table, where his fingers began to trace lazy circles on the exposed skin of my knee. I jumped as the sensation from his touch spread from my knee up the sensitive skin of my thigh and coiled in a delicious throb between my legs.