"Hey, baldhead. How are you doing?"
I knew who it was without even looking.
"Molly. Long time no see."
Molly's eyes flickered as she reached for my shoulder. "God damn, you've grown so big in just a few months."
Smiling, I gently moved her hand away, which seemed to upset her a little.
"So," Molly said, looking at me expectantly, "did you think about what I said last month at Camp Copper?"
"My answer is the same. No."
Her face fell briefly, but she quickly forced a smile. "Why not? Don't I look good?" she asked, swaying her hips.
"It's not about that," I said. "I've already told you—I'm with Clementine. My answer hasn't changed."
I needed to shut this down before she got any strange ideas.
"How about both of us?" she said casually. "Wouldn't that work? It's not like we have to stick to old customs. There are no rules anymore. The strong make the rules in this society. So what do you say? You could enjoy both of our company."
I was stunned for a moment, then quickly shook my head.
"This isn't about society—it's about me. A long time ago, I decided to love only Clementine. That's it. I can't love anyone else."
I honestly didn't understand it. I never imagined Molly would fall for me. She had always called me baldhead. When she first confessed, I thought she was joking, as she usually did, but she was serious.
"You know," she said, smirking, "women go crazy for men who are dependable, strong, and handsome. If you had accepted my proposal, I wouldn't be acting this crazy. So technically, it's your fault. Which means you must take responsibility."
This time, I answered firmly. "Molly, right now you're a good friend to both of us. I don't want to ruin that. Please try to understand."
She stared at me for a moment, then laughed. "You really think I'm that desperate? That I'd chase your baldhead forever just because you rejected me? I'm over it. But I am still jealous of Clementine, sure—but whatever. So, what are you doing here?"
"Clementine and I are here to buy weapons and books. What about you?"
"I'm working temporarily as a scout," she said. "I watch for walker hordes and report them. I was running low on arrows, so I came to buy more. Come on—let's go together."
She walked ahead, and I followed.
"Do you have a contact with Amir?" She asked.
"I'm trying to reach him by radio," I replied. "But I think he's too far away—maybe even in another state."
Molly nodded. "I wanted to thank him for saving my life in Savannah—but maybe next time."
"Molly… what happened in Savannah?" I asked.
Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment, as if weighing her words. Then she tilted her head to the side and replied casually, "Oh. I found out I was pregnant, so I had to kill it. That's it. Nothing more."
She quickened her pace, clearly trying to avoid the topic.
"Want to have a drink?" I said, wanting to drop the subject as well. "It's on me."
Molly glanced back at me and laughed. "Haha, moneybags. Sure, let's have a drink. I've been waiting to drain all your credits—this is perfect. What are you waiting for? Come on."
From what I remembered, Molly had a younger sister who was diabetic back in Crawford. To keep it secret and to get medicine, Molly had made a deal with one of Crawford's doctors. Even after doing everything, she could, her sister still died. That loss hardened her, making her rude and cocky toward everyone. But beneath it all, she was genuinely a wonderful person.
She grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the bar of the Common Ground.
The place was crowded people drinking, eating, and talking with friends. A few guards were there too, enjoying their downtime.
"Hey, bartender," Molly said loudly. "Give me the most expensive drink you've got and put it on this baldhead's tab. And don't you dare cheap out—hear me?"
The bartender looked at me. I nodded in approval. He poured the most expensive drink he had into a one-ounce glass.
Molly ignored the glass, grabbed the bottle instead, and took a long drink. She handed me the small glass with a grin. "This one's for you, host."
I downed it in one go. With my fast metabolism, I wouldn't get drunk even if I finished the whole bottle but I drank anyway to keep her company.
Half an hour later, I was starting to worry about how much she'd had.
"I think you should stop," I said. "Leave some for tomorrow. You've already had half the bottle. Don't you still need to buy arrows?"
Molly looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes. "Shut… I'm old… I turned eighteen month ago… maybe, okay?"
"Drinking's for twenty-one and up," I said, grabbing her arm. "Come on. Save it for tomorrow—we need to go."
"I… can die for country at eighteen… why can't drink?"
Her words were slurring badly, so I splash little water over her head to snap her back to her senses.
"Bastard! Why did you do that?"
I paid thirty-two credits and dragged her outside, away from the bar. This had been a bad idea. I immediately regretted offering her a drink.
"Thanks for ruining my drink," Molly muttered, still clutching the bottle. Her hair glistened in the cold, cloudy air, and she was already starting to sober up.
"You're welcome," I replied.
As we came close to the weapons shop, I suddenly saw Clementine—holding a dagger, fighting with a few boys. A crowd had gathered, and several guards were rushing over.
I ran toward her immediately.