If you've followed me for any length of time you know how much I love seals, this is because I love selkies. Meet Aoibheann, my favorite selkie oc, more art of her and her family most likely forthcoming.
good girls get good grades; one of the many expectations your parents pressed into you from an early age. a fierce people pleaser, you wanted nothing more than the thick haze of burnout to lift from your shoulders, before you have to run home with your tail between your legs in defeat. good thing your sociology class holds a fellow overachiever.
tags: college au, academic rivals, depression, angst, toxic family dynamics, slow burn romance, multi chapter fic, unclear feelings, reader is an unreliable narrator, eventual fluff
wc: 2.5k
notes: wheeeewwww y'all. WHEEEWWWW. i couldn't decide how to approach this chapter so it's gone through several transformations.....hhhh..... anyways, hope you enjoy eren briefly checking out your ass ♡ love you all
chapters: 01 | 02 | 03
Chapter Three: Flattery
"You looked great up there."
Armin's habit of suddenly appearing behind you was already getting old. Stilling the erratic rhythm in your chest, you slowed your stride a bit to let him catch up.
"Will you stop sneaking up on me?" A small smile betrayed your stern tone. "And... thanks, my grade almost ate shit. I owe you one." The weekend came with a sense of fleeting relief, like holding ice in a burned hand. Time to rinse and repeat, right?
Armin fell into step at your side. He thought about how rarely you actually stop to talk. Always moving, as if your schedule was tightly packed, or poorly planned. He reckoned it could be either at this point.
"Any time. Y'know, it wouldn't be a bad idea to study together more often." The blonde held a sunny aura, something that you wished was more contagious. "I like the way that you think." You knew it was a compliment, but pride didn't swell at his words like it should've. Instead, you peeked at the boy suspiciously from your peripheral.
Shoving your hands in your jacket pockets, you looked thoughtful for a moment. Would that be... weird? What does he mean by that? A chime from your phone called your attention away before you could reply. "Uh, hold on, Armin." Dread squeezed the air from your lungs upon reading the contact name.
Incoming Call
Dad
You stopped walking. Unaware, Armin stopped a few steps ahead of you. It was almost impressive how fast your thumb automatically moved to answer the call despite the blood draining from your face.
"Hi, Dad."
Armin sealed his lips together.
He couldn't pretend to understand the nature of your relationship with your family. Over the few days and several hours you spent next to each other, the blonde watched you ease so slowly back into the familiar rhythm you used to move in, almost as if invisible weights were being dropped from your ankles. It was refreshing. It was interesting. He held a sneaking suspicion whatever icy visage you threw over yourself publicly was just that -- a show, an act. Smiles on your lips weren't as rare as he once thought. Whenever your family was mentioned, though, you were a deer caught in headlights.
"Yeah, I'm finished for the day. I did well on my presentation for soc," eavesdropping is rude, he reminded himself, so Armin angled his body away and pretended to busy himself with his phone as you spoke, "marks should be posted by the end of the night."
How deeply did they monitor you? The blonde chewed his cheek. Something in your voice sounded so artificial and plastic. It seemed glue stuck your feet in place but ignored your hands, thumb flicking over fingertips in a repetitive motion he could only pin as a nervous habit.
Armin caught shade falling down your face. "I know, I was... studying, with my tutor. The library closed and the diner was still a public place, so..."
Ah, right. He still felt awful about the late hour he kept you out the night before. Still, even if you were with him out of pure necessity, Armin found himself enjoying the company. Was it selfish of him? Maybe. It still felt nice to imagine that you didn't hate him as much as he thought.
A separate, familiar voice called to him from across the lawn, dragging him from his thoughts. Eren jogged himself over, messy brunette bun bobbing with each long step. Armin watched you turn and meander a short distance away with your phone pressed firmly against your ear. The two boys exchanged loose greetings ending with Eren shoving a thumb in your general direction, "who's this? Are you waiting for her?" Armin pocketed the phone he only used as a distraction, watching warily as Eren let his eyes wander over you. Why did he say it like that? The blonde looked to you too, facing away and combing a hand through your hair as you talked.
Armin remembered being taken aback by the shift in your appearance that day. Lately your body all but swam in hoodies and sweaters far too big for you, coupled with plain dark jeans and sleepless bags under your eyes. You looked tired, and rightfully so. But that day, Armin could guess what Eren was so non discretely gazing at; his eyes fell down your back, to the curve of your ass, beautifully shaped in a pencil skirt.
He shoved the brunette, the tips of his ears flushing as he tore his eyes away from you. Eren barely budged, chuckling playfully at his friend and muttering "relax, relax" in the air between them.
"I'm walking her home," Armin started, "then we can head to Jean's." A certain brass clung to his words without permission. He wasn't entirely sure where it came from, but he felt a tad grateful for it regardless.
Eren snorted in reply, "why don't you just bring her with?"
"[Y/N] has more important things to do than get drunk with a bunch of random guys."
"Not random," the taller friend interjected, "she'll know both of us, right?"
Both of us?
A rubber band pulled taught in Armin's chest at the implication. Eren Jaeger, his best friend for the majority of his life, the man who never stuttered or faltered when talking -- especially to women. He was a cocktail of confidence and charisma jam packed into a six foot frame, topped with a scrunchie to hold back his mane of dark hair. Armin felt so utterly flat and nondescript in comparison. He felt a flicker of annoyance clench his throat as you turned, eyes landing on the friend in question.
You had pocketed your phone, the jacket wrapped around you doing little for warmth but pulling the look together nicely. Clean, simple, almost professional. "Hey, sorry about that," sighing, your hands found themselves under your bag's strap as you approached them, "anyways, what were you saying, Armin?"
Eren prodded the blonde's side, a shit eating grin spread wide on his face. "I think he was just going to introduce us, right, Armin?"
How interesting. In a logical sense, Armin knew you were the day-and-night opposite of the type of girl Eren usually chased. You were brilliant, determined, ambitious -- wrapped in a very pretty bow and tight lipped smile that he couldn't help but think of when you weren't around. Despite this, that rubber band grew ever tighter as he begrudgingly gave in to his best friend, as per tradition.
The familiar swirl of brain fog and restlessness continued to plague your days and nights. Time in the classroom felt like a physical battle to hold your brain above swampy water. Cerulean eyes watched the slow flicks of your fingers, the steam slowly rising from your ears. The sound of your voice became a rare song during school hours.
Armin found himself missing your roundabout squabbles.
He still sent texts. Sometimes he would be lucky enough to receive a reply. More often than not, they'd be opened hours or even days later, left to sit along the wall of other abandoned 'hello's and 'how are you feeling?'s. Part of him wondered if he was being a nuisance.
Every once in a while, though, you'd send him a message. Always out of the blue, almost never with any sort of context -- just a random question.
[Y/N]: the mountains or the beach?
Sometimes he'd wait to even open it, wondering meekly if you meant to send it to someone else, but Armin would always reply.
Armin: the beach, easy (:
These questions usually came late at night, when you were supposed to be sleeping. When he was supposed to be sleeping. The pattern was slight, but traceable, and sometimes he'd stay up a little longer than he should, hoping to hear the familiar chime.
[Y/N]: when's the last time you went?
Armin: probably last year, with Eren and his ex
And sometimes, sometimes, he'd be rewarded with a pearl of wisdom for his tiresome efforts.
[Y/N]: i've never seen the ocean in person before
[Y/N]: just in documentaries /:
[Y/N]: maybe we could go some time
Maybe he wasn't a nuisance. Maybe the lawyer's daughter was just a bit of a puzzle, one he hadn't quite figured out yet.
Armin: just say the word and i'm there
He wouldn't push. Whatever was pulling you under water wasn't his battle to fight, he thought, and the last thing he wanted was to paint himself as another obstacle. Armin, for reasons he couldn't quite wrap his head around, wanted to be useful to you. He wanted to see the weight lift from your shoulders again.
Though traces of you could be found around campus or online, the realization hit him like a bus one day -- where were your friends? Nobody to chatter at between classes, nobody to discretely text during a lecture. He wondered what you did when you tucked yourself away in your room for the night.
He wondered if you felt lonely, like him.
"Would you say you're satisfied with your accomplishments?"
"I mean... I feel like I should be, but I rarely feel it."
The hum that followed felt hollow. A bit of iron tipped your tongue as nervous energy worked along your jaw, nibbling away at your soft lip skin. Therapy was supposed to be good for you. Why did it feel like a prison sentence?
"Do you think you'd find them more note worthy if they were from a friend or loved one instead?" Julia, the young woman encompassing your laptop screen, tapped a pen to her chin.
Your cuticles were a mess. Picking aimlessly, a sigh dropped your shoulders. "I don't know, I guess so. There's a guy in a few of my classes that... I was jealous of, for a long time. I still kind of am. I wanted to be like him-- want to, be like him," the words quietly swelled over your lips, "I am proud of his work. His... intelligence, his drive. He doesn't have to work so hard to be perfect. Maybe if I can just imitate him a little, things won't be so hard."
The half hour sessions dragged painfully every Sunday afternoon. Somehow the insight was supposed to be comforting, enlightening, and sometimes they were; mostly, though, you'd close your laptop along with your jabbering mouth and take a deep breath. A ring of silence hung over your head like a halo.
Ding!
... for a moment, anyway.
Armin: feel like some pie, on me this time?
Armin: 1 image attachment
A familiar restaurant, coupled with a familiar reflection in the window. Armin and two others -- Eren, (right?) with a taller brunette at his side, smoking a cigarette.
Armin: p.s. there's no cinnamon apple today ): but blueberry's better anyway
A smile tugged at your lips.
[Y/N]: dessert at 2 in the afternoon? how daring and crazy of you
Armin: [Y/N], you of all people should know innovation begins with a crazy idea and the drive to see it through
Running a hand through tangled hair, you found yourself standing and slipping into a less lived-in outfit.
[Y/N]: asinine
[Y/N]: i'll be there soon
A friend, you thought about Julia's question on your way out the door; a friend, and your first thought was the blonde who used to make you want to grit your teeth to dust. The one offering to buy you (supposedly superior) blueberry pie.
Should it be so strange, seeing Armin without a mountain of books sitting between you? Without the laptop screens hiding half of your faces, bathing them in an ominous glow? And his friends -- Eren and... whoever the taller one was -- were they like Armin? Somewhat reserved, witty, and... interesting?
Mulling over the decision you already set in stone, anxiety began to gnaw at the empty pit of your stomach. The diner was in view. Next, it was down the street. And finally, right in front of you.
Warm rays of light pooled across the sidewalk from large windows, dancing and shifting as patrons moved. You felt like a ghost; watching, peering into friendly company from the safety of an invisible barrier. After an eternity and a half, your feet dragged you inside the last place you laughed and felt excitement swim under your skin.
The trio wasn't hard to find in such a small room. Animated chatter and chuckles flowed so easily from their table, tinted with colorful language and the occasional mocking tone. Unwilling to blatantly interrupt, you found yourself quickly squeezing into the empty seat beside Armin, who nearly jumped out of his skin when your elbow bumped his.
Eren met your widened gaze first, flashing a bright smile. The man on his side promptly wiped the crumbs from his mouth and nudged his head in your direction.
"Oh hey, she's real!"
"I told you! You owe me twenty bucks." Eren smacked the table in excitement, making you jolt just the slightest bit.
"Nah nah nah, listen. Blink twice if you're a paid actor."
Thoroughly entertained, you watched the brunettes squint at you from across the table, waiting eagerly for an answer. Armin huffed instead, tossing a straw wrapper that bounced off of the taller boy's forehead. "That's Jean. Don't listen to him, he's on a bit of a sugar rush."
You snorted, "well, I'm not an actor, but I was bribed with free pie."
Jean clicked his tongue a few times and leaned back in the booth. "Very sneaky Arlert. Are you gonna pay for me too, since you just lost me twenty bucks?"
"Why don't you ask Eren? I hear he just won twenty bucks." Armin replied with a grin, turning to you once the brunettes began bickering amongst themselves. "You hungry, [Y/N]? The bribe extends past a slice of pie, y'know."
Something about the air circling around your four heads felt familiar. Warm. You found yourself smiling on your own, eyebrow popping upward.
"So, like, the whole pie?"
Armin chuckled.
"How daring and crazy of you," he mimicked quietly.
"What can I say? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
warnings: several mentions of death, potentially triggering references to c****a, angst central, desirée is Bad At Feelings
word count: 1951
Sunday, August 17th, 2023 - Day 15 of quarantine
“Westchester County residents should be expected to shelter in place for at least 5 more weeks. Healthcare professionals are resigning by the hundreds as the disease spreads to nurses and doctors throughout the country. Over half of all patients that have tested positive for the Westchester Plague have either committed suicide or attempted to commit suicide. More at noon.”
“It only gets worse and worse every day,” Desirée frowns.
“Maybe we should take a break from the news for a while.” Andy turns the TV off and heads into the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”
“Um…” Desirée could probably read him a numbered and alphabetized list of foods that she would ruin right about now, but she refrains. “What do we have?”
“Well, there’s some ramen in here…”
Not ideal, but it’ll have to do. They are in the middle of an epidemic, after all. “Awesome.”
So they eat chicken flavored ramen like a pair of broke college students while watching some old anime, which Andy adamantly rejects the second the words leave her lips (“Avatar: The Last Airbender is a cartoon, Desirée”), and she lets her mind wander.
Eventually, it arrives to Andy, as it seems to do more and more often these days. His name warms her skin like the sun on a late summer afternoon. His presence feels like the down comforter on her bed after a long day of work.
A small smile plays at her lips as she leans into the promise of an exciting summer and sweet dreams. It welcomes her with open arms and promises fond memories for years to come. But as soon as she goes to take it, she finds herself drenched in a raging storm.
While they polish off the last of their cups, a devastating truth hits her.
As lovely as their moment feels, its end is as inevitable as the bone-chilling winter or the start of a new day.
Monday, August 18th, 2023 - Day 16 of quarantine
“Did you want to give video games another try?” Andy asks tentatively. Then, like the infuriating bastard he is, he smirks. “I promise I’ll let you win.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Desirée retorts, donning a small smile.
“Don’t get too cocky or I’ll have to show you up.” Andy
After a tense round of Mortal Kombat, the TV screen flashes a victory. Andy slumps back, defeated.
“I...how…?”
“Lily and I used to play. I’m excellent at playing dumb, Andy,” Desirée smirks. “You know this about me.”
He shakes his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“If you say so.” Desiree rolls her neck and stretches her arms. “Ready for round 2?”
Tuesday, August 19th, 2023 - Day 17 of quarantine
“Scientists have found that cutis dissolutitis, better known as the Westchester Plague, mutated from Bacillus subtilis, a bacteria species found in dirt that acts as a decomposer of organic materials. It was first found in a large forest area. The best way to protect against this epidemic is to cover all exposed skin when you’re outside and sanitize once you’re inside.” A disgruntled news anchor reports from the outside of a nondescript building. The only patch of visible skin is around his eyes, which are covered by transparent goggles.
Desirée gasps suddenly. “Oh my god, the woods. Andy, you don’t think that…”
He catches the implication. “There’s no way. Devon would never do this.”
“We never suspected that Jane...or Noah…” She shakes her head. “I just hope not.”
Wednesday, August 20th, 2023 - Day 18 of quarantine
The official body count is projected to be 100. Over 200 citizens in the county have reported testing positive for the virus and 400 more are showing symptoms. Ignoring the news at this point is just short of irresponsible, but fear keeps her from lingering on the headlines.
As the day winds to a close, a feeling of dread slowly infiltrates her mind. The thought of tomorrow makes her skin crawl. Her stomach inverts and reverts on a constant loop as she reads yet another headline about yet another person committing suicide to avoid the disease.
The sun sets and she’s overcome with a terrible truth. A subtle prick of worry that blossoms into a deep ache in her chest that she can’t quite place.
“Something terrible is going to happen tomorrow.” Desirée whispers aloud. She locks herself in the bathroom as she feels the omen leave her lips. Andy doesn’t need to hear this. “Something that will change everything we thought was true.”
Thursday, August 21st, 2023 - Day 19 of quarantine
They don’t bother changing out of their pajamas anymore.
An alert on her phone tells her that the death toll in Westchester County has climbed from 100 to 1,000 overnight. Westchester alone has lost a third of its population. Then, she gets the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dizzy,” Lily sniffles.
She knows that something is very wrong for two reasons. One, no one has called her Dizzy since her junior year in high school. Two, Lily is a notorious night owl and wouldn’t be caught out of bed before 9 in the morning if she had her way, let alone willingly engaging in human interaction. If she was calling at 8 AM, it had to be serious.
“Lily, is everything okay?” Desirée whispered as she tiptoed out of bed to avoid waking Andy.
“It’s my mom.” She sobs, and suddenly she can no longer hear the hum of the vents above her head or the whirring of her computer on the coffee table. “She has the plague.”
“Lily, how long has she had it?”
“I don’t know.” She sobs harder. “They’re queueing everyone on the block for testing.”
“Lily, it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay,” Desirée whispers. The burning in her eyes and the constricting feeling in her throat tell her that she’s crying, too. “You’re going to be okay.”
She’s lying through her teeth and she knows it, but the words seem to offer Lily some comfort as she recites them back to her.
“I will be okay,” she chokes out. “Everything will be okay.”
“If you need anything at all…”
“I know who to call,” Lily replies. The line goes dead.
Desirée holds the phone to her chest and sends a silent prayer. It’s bad enough that you’ve taken a third of our town. Please don’t take Lily, too.
Silent tears stream down her cheeks as she prays over and over again.
Don’t take Lily.
Don’t take Lily.
Don’t take Lily.
It’s that exact moment that Andy wraps his arms around Desirée’s middle and buries his head in the crook of her neck. She’s suddenly overcome with guilt and shame as she turns to him with shining eyes.
“Andy, I-”
“Shhh.” He shakes his head and pulls her into his chest, blinking back tears of his own. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Soon, everyone knows. The news is bleaker than ever, with cameras being shoved into the grieving families of the victims and the death toll climbing by the hour. As the day crawls to an end and she lays in Andy’s arms, one thing becomes astoundingly apparent.
Life will never be the same again.
Friday, August 22nd, 2023 - Day 20 of quarantine
It becomes physically unbearable to look at the news. Desirée briefly considers letting Andy unplug the TV again.
No one takes the news of Lily’s mother well, but Ava seems to struggle with it the most. She refuses to answer phone calls from anyone and only replies in short, but extremely worrying sentences.
“I wish this wasn’t going on so that I could check on her.” Desirée sighs after a fifth “missed” call. She’s curled up on the living room sofa with her head hanging on the arm. Her eyes are shut tight. “But here we are.”
“She’s never really been the emotional type, Rée.”
“That’s why I’m so worried about her. If she’s shutting down this early, what’s she gonna do if Mrs. Ortiz doesn’t make it?”
“I don’t know, but I think what Ava needs right now is space.”
“Andy, I can’t just let her spiral.” She sits up at this, frowning.
“I know it’s hard to see her like this, but you can’t protect everyone.”
“I know I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.” Desirée whispers. “But I can help.”
“What happened with Devon wasn’t your fault, Desirée. The only person you should blame is-”
“Don’t.”
“The point I’m making is that you don’t always have to be everyone’s person.” Andy stares deeply into her eyes. For a second, it feels as if he’s seeing her every flaw, every imperfection she’s buried deep into her heart and mind, every secret she’s ever kept and maybe even the ones she didn’t. For the longest second, it feels as if he’s peering into her soul and reading it with the ease of a picture book and she’s helpless to turn away and shut him out despite the fact that she desperately wants to. “You’re always so focused on being there for everyone else, but who’s going to be there for you?”
You. She almost whispers. It’s always been you.
“A therapist.” She replies instead, forcing a small smile. “And a bottle of wine.”
“Take care of yourself.” Andy squeezes her shoulders once and turns for the bedroom. “Let someone else be there for you once in a while.”
“Someone else like who?”
“I don’t think either one of us is ready for that conversation.”
“You sure?” Desirée retorts, suddenly emboldened. She’s not the only mind reader between them and she’ll be damned if Andy Kang gets to leave her wondering like every night before. “Because I feel plenty ready to talk. If you’re scared of going there, just say that.”
“Who’s scared?” Andy turns back around, staring her down. She holds her own, meeting his gaze head on. “I’ll go there if that’s what you want.”
“Hey, don’t hold back on my account. If you want to say something, I’m all ears.”
“Could you handle that?” He walks slowly toward her as he speaks, sizing her up. “Could you handle it if I told you that I wish you’d stop trying to play tough all the time and open up to me like you used to? That I wish we’d just quit this dance where we pretend we’re still not in love with each other?” Her breath catches and his face is inches away from hers, so much so that she can feel his breath on her cheeks. “Could you even function knowing that?”
“I could. You know why?” She finally responds, placing her hand directly onto his chest. “Nothing is the way it used to be, Andy. We’re not the way we used to be when this started and we’ll never be those people again. So I suggest…” She tilts her head upwards and brushes her lips against his chin. “...you make peace with that.”
She lets him meditate on her words as she heads toward the bedroom and into the conjoined bathroom, where she finally lets her face rest in her hands as she cries.
Saturday, August 23, 2023 - Day 21 of quarantine
They don’t speak for most of the day.
“I probably should’ve told you this earlier,” Desirée tells Andy during the evening. They’ve just eaten dinner. “But everything that happened on Thursday...I felt it.”
“You...what?”
“I’d just been feeling horrible all day and I thought my anxiety was just acting up, but then I just felt this ache in my chest and I knew something awful was going to happen.”
“What did it feel like?”
“Death.” She inhales a shaky breath before nodding resolutely. “It felt like death.”
A TWO-WEEK SUMMER ROAD TRIP with college kids typically ended with hugs and promises to text and call every day, which wouldn’t ever happen, or perhaps with a sluggish goodbye as everyone dragged themselves into their vehicles to their homes where they would hopefully sleep well in their own beds for a change.
It should be noted that the Westchester 7 aren’t typical–far from it, actually–but even they couldn’t have fathomed what they were coming home to.
Of course, the ride into town was as normal as any, with good-natured banter such as:
“Why do you wear sunglasses indoors?” Dan frowned as Desiree adjusted hers so that they sat just before the tip of her nose. She stops fiddling long enough to meet Dan’s questioning gaze.
“Fashion,” Desiree retorted, lowering her small–borderline microscopic if you asked him—green sunglasses just so Dan could feel the weight of her glare, “try it sometime.”
To accompany the offending glasses, she wore a checkered cropped hoodie with a white mesh crop top underneath, a black skirt, a green Off-White belt and beanie, and a pair of green, black and white Balenciagas. Her fresh balayage brushed against her exposed waist as she flipped it back over her shoulder.
“She moves to New York and all of a sudden she’s the fashion expert.” Ava snorts, sweeping her hand to flip a page.
“I was always the fashion expert, love.” Desiree sends a sly wink in Ava’s direction, to which she receives an exaggerated eye roll. Lily giggles and shakes her head.
“Behave, kids.” Lucas chides. The smile on his face gives him away as they pass the “Welcome to Westchester!” sign.
“Yes! Finally,” Andy huffs, sitting up in his seat, “I thought I was going to lose my mind.”
“We were only two hours out, silly!” Stacy grins as she reaches to ruffle his hair. She isn’t quick enough and Andy lightly smacks her hand down before she gets close.
“‘Only two hours?’ Are you nuts?” Andy whines.
Stacy chuckles and her jaw drops when she looks out of the window because holy shit, are you guys seeing this? The van stops and everyone darts for the nearest window and then, like clockwork, their jaws have dropped, too.
On a typical sunny Saturday, the streets of the town plaza are full of life. Children run around the park bench trees giddily as their parents pull them toward the ice cream shop, teens walk around with shopping bags on their arms and cars blast their music as they careen down the busy streets.
But today, a day just like that one, the streets are barren. In fact, the entire square looks like it’s been void of human activity for days. Missing signs stapled to trees are the only indication that anyone has ever been here at all.
“What the fuck did we miss?” Desiree murmured.
“A health crisis, apparently,” Lily shuddered. “‘Westchester has declared a health emergency as 25% of the population have been infected with an unidentified virus. The mayor urges all of the citizens to find somewhere else to stay until the issue is under control.’ What the hell does she mean, ‘find somewhere else to stay?’”
“I don’t know, but my flight leaves tomorrow night and I’m not sticking around for whatever bullshit Westchester has going on today.” Desiree huffs.
“How is there a potentially dangerous virus going around and your mom hasn’t said anything to you about it?” Dan asked. Stacy glowered at the question, but eventually, let out a sigh.
“I was wondering the exact same thing.”
“The hell are we gonna do now?” Ava grumbled, leaning back her in her seat.
“My place is the closest,” Andy volunteers, ”We can all crash there until everyone leaves tomorrow.”
A general murmur of agreement and gratitude falls over the group as Andy takes the wheel. The jovial atmosphere is gone with Ava’s question hanging over their heads: What the hell were they gonna do now?
Once they get to Andy’s place, Lucas, Ava, Lily, and Dan all leave to head to their own homes. Stacy and Desirée set their luggage in the living room and the three of them make conversation, trying to ignore the news they’ve just received.
Sometime in the early morning, Desiree feels a nudging in her side.
“Hey, I’m heading out,” Stacy whispers. The tired girl nods as they embrace quickly and wish each other well before Stacy rushes out of the door.
The bedroom door opens and Andy trudges out, yawning. “Did I miss Stacy?”
Desiree nods and opens her mouth to say more to say something, but the next words out of the early morning news anchor’s mouth make her blood run cold.
“The state has issued a quarantine on Westchester County. Everyone who has entered or exited the town within the past 7 days must stay in their homes. All travel to or from Westchester County has been banned indefinitely.”
