Evolution of Survival

02

Milo. Until he separated from my space, I held my breath. Running from machines for over three years, there was always this feeling when they were too close. Danger. Terror. I was used to the strong need to run away.

I didn't feel this was Milo. Maybe it was because I was desperate. My half-brother left me for the sharks and while I understood the decision, it didn't make it less of a dickhead move. Milo saw me in my situation, and despite what he was, he saw a girl who needed saving. I never thought I'd be a damsel in distress but, shit, I was thankful; in more ways than one.

His eyes panned over me, the blue in them flickering as they moved inch by inch. When he reached my feet, he frowned and came to me again. "We need to do something about your foot," he said.

"My—oh, it's fine," I lied. Even without putting weight on my ankle, it hurt.

"Hm." He chuckled deeply in his throat. "It isn't broken or else you wouldn't be standing on it. The muscle is torn, though."

Fixing my backpack over one shoulder, I grounded my teeth. Could he see that much with those eyes? "It's fine," I muttered. "I can hobble around and—"

"Nope." Milo shook his head as he carefully reached around my back, then he dropped his voice to a mellow whisper, "May I?" He glanced at his arm. "So, I can help you walk to my car."

Chewing on my bottom lip, I leaned into him without saying a word. He hummed quietly as he led me forward down the street. The cars that had remained parked were covered in dust, residue from the android attack that hit Chicago last week. Months-old newspaper lat crumbled some fluttering in the wind like tumbleweeds beside our feet. The tip of my good fit hit an old open can; two single peaches spilled out on the grimy street. My stomach rumbled. How long had it been since I ate?

Milo's hum turned into a hearty laugh. "Shit, we'll have to do something about your stomach, too," he said.

I looked up at the side of his face. Nearly a foot taller than me, I wrapped my arm around his waist; he was too tall to hold him anywhere else. A single earring adorned his ear, a simple gem that absorbed the light. As the sub sat high in the afternoon sky, I spotted the small beads of sweat on his dark skin. He was gorgeous, but also, I was unaware that androids sweated.

I hopped on one foot to keep up. He held me tighter. "Why are you being nice to me?" I asked.

"I told you," he said without looking at me, "I want to get inside the safety zone."

"Yeah, but you stopped over the hole I was in before you knew where I was going. I didn't know androids cared about people "

"They don't," he said without missing a beat.

Shit. I gulped. "Then why are you—"

"I'm not an android." He peered at me with his unnaturally blue eyes, paired with the sunlight cast a beautiful, almost celestial glow to his cheeks. I was afraid but couldn't look away, especially as he smirked. "Besides," he faced forward once more, "curiosity took over. People do weird things but to sit inside the busted road; I thought that was new. So, I stopped and asked."

"I don't—I don't understand. You're eyes, they're—"

"My car's over there." Milo pointed at a beat-up red four-door with rust and dents on the side of it. I cringed but with the state of the world, I wasn't expecting a sports convertible or anything extravagant. Or perhaps my reaction was true because of the way he stopped me from continuing—his eyes were unnatural, and his demeanor, though sweet and compelling had a beautiful yet mysterious vibe.

I held my breath as he led me to the car and opened the passenger door. He guided me to sit in the seat as he reached into the back. I caught a whiff of cologne, a thick sweet aroma. I closed my eyes and calmed myself. He says he's not an android but come on. Stop smelling him, eyeballing him; he's not a regular man.