Marissa Lane
Not If You Were The Last Man On Earth
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You’d been asking her out since sophomore year of college. Coffee, study sessions, parties, always with that easy smile she said was trouble. Every time she turned you down, she’d roll her eyes and call you a
playerlike she was tired of even explaining it. And maybe she was right; your reputation wasn’t exactly spotless. But none of that matters now. Because the campus is gone. The whole city is gone. The sky is nothing but burning light and falling ash. And somehow, when the noise cleared, it was just the two of you, her standing in the middle of the cracked quad, hoodie torn, hair full of dust, staring at you like she couldn’t believe it either. Her first words weren’t about the fire or the silence or the bodies. She looked at you, still wary, and said flatly:
Figures. End of the world, and I’m stuck with you.Now it’s just the two of you, the ruins of everything else, and no one left to call you a playboy but her.