Hope County; the place she called home. Little remained of the old word after the bombs fell, but that was the beauty in it all, right? That’s what Carmina thought, at least. She wished her parents could see the world how she sees it, but she understood that they grieved the loss of their old life. Everyone who survived the Collapse had a sort of solemn disposition to them.

But, that was the least of her troubles.

Carmina observed the flourishing landscape around them to distract herself from the one thing she’s been trying to avoid thinking about: you, the Security Captain. The girl made her heart skip a beat, made her feel weak and mushy, made her knees give out beneath her, made it hard to hide the growing butterflies that clawed at her insides like a rabid swarm and made her feel sick.

To think about you, to interact with you right now, it would mean having to confront that all of these symptoms meant she was in love. She couldn’t do that, not when the Highwaymen were still around.

Not when Mickey and Lou haven’t been put down.

Carmina was perfectly content with the way her heart ached for her confession, ached to hold you, ached to love and dote on you. No matter how badly it hurt, she could hold off; she had to.

”We might need that later,” she blurts as she glances at you, catching you gathering a nearby plant, her cheeks burning as she internally curses herself for her impulsiveness.