ALPHA WAVE

Chapter 11: Ratatouille.

Okay... Talk about mixed signals. This guy has more mood swings than a Texas twister.

Should I feel a certain way here?

I think I should.

Wait, no I shouldn't!

I don't care.

Nope.

I don't care.

Without looking back, I stomped my way to the lake's edge and stripped off my jeans. I wash my sneakers and jeans thoroughly before putting them on a rock to dry, then remove my shirt and leave it there so I don't get it wet. The water was surprisingly warm and welcoming, with its gentle ripples. Without hesitation, I dive in, clad only in my underwear, surrendering to the embrace of the cool ripples that hug every inch of my body. With each refreshing wave, my agitation and sexual frustration melted away, carried off by the playful currents.

Who does he think he is, anyway?

Not that I care, pfft.

He's an infected!

A plague-fester!

Ninety-nine percent of the time, he struts around like a grumpy peacock, with threats, scowls, and growls for days. He's got this permanent "Not Interested in Being Friends" sign hanging over his head. Guess what I don't want to be his friend anyway! It's like dealing with a hormonal grizzly bear, I swear! One minute he's all sweet and cuddly, and the next he's trying to take my head off. Then accused me of staring when I innocently glanced his way.

Well, guess what? Guilty as charged, buddy, but that's beside the point. I mean, who needs eight-pack abs anyway? It's not like they're even practical in everyday life. And accusing me of staring? Please, pfft. Like he's not the one who spends hours staring at himself in the mirror. Ugh, I can't deal with this hot-and-cold nonsense. It's like trying to navigate a minefield in high heels.

Yet every time I close my eyes, I can still feel his lips on my neck, his hands on me, and it confuses me to no end. How is it that someone who frightens me to the core can evoke such a peculiar response within me? It defies all logic and reason. One moment I'm shaking in my boots and the next, I find myself strangely drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It's maddening and downright confusing.

He is an infected for crying out loud!

I barely know anything about him.

Plus, he's not exactly your typical human.

And, let's be honest, he's not the kind of person I usually go for. Nope, I'm more into regular, non-infected guys who are charming in their own way, without having the whole tall, devilishly handsome, and eight-pack abs thing going on.

It's not like my life is already complicated enough. I mean, who needs good ol' logical reasoning when you can be irrationally attracted to the most drop-dead gorgeous man you've ever seen? It's like my brain just decided to take a vacation and let my hormones do all the thinking.

Thanks a lot, evolution!

But let's not forget the cherry on top: he's also the scariest creature to ever grace this planet. He's like a tall glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day, but with a side of spine-chillin' terror. Frankly, I'm surprised I don't break out in a cold sweat every time he looks at me. He's got all those classic horror movie villains beat. It's like someone mixed up Freddy, Jason, and the whole dang crew and created a brand-new nightmare. I guess my fear response decided to join my logical thinking on that vacation.

Mighty fine decision-making right there, I must say.

So here I am, caught between swooning over his beauty and quaking in my boots whenever he's around. It's like a rollercoaster ride of emotions, but instead of butterflies in my stomach, I have a swarm of bats flapping around.