Page 158 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

“Shoot me.”

I frowned. “What?”

He gestured at his vest—still pristine, not a single drop of paint on it. “Liam’s vest has your color on it. Rohan’s too. But mine doesn’t. And that just… doesn’t feel right.”

He spread his arms, presenting himself like a target.

“So shoot me.”

I shook my head and turned away, resuming my walk toward the exit.

“Nope.”

“Alessia, come on!”

“Please.”

“It’ll only take a second!”

His voice followed me, growing more desperate as I put distance between us. I didn’t turn around. I just kept walking.

“I’m not shooting you, Cassian.”

“But think about how fun it’ll be!” His voice carried across the field. “Just once! You only have to shoot me for a second, and then it’s done—”

I spun around, raised my gun, and fired before he could finish.

The paintball hit him square in the chest, a burst of yellow spreading across his heart.

I lowered the gun, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

“Happy?”

He looked down at the mark, then back up at me. His eyes crinkled at the corners, that unguarded, boyish smile breaking across his face.

“Yes,” he said softly.

I shook my head, still smiling, and kept walking, leaving Cassian standing there in his newly decorated vest.

Everyone had gathered near the benches, already deep in negotiations over where to eat.

Felicity turned to Liam. “I would be very grateful if you picked up the cheque. You know. Vet salary. Student loans. The crushing weight of adult responsibility.”

Rohan nodded solemnly beside her. “And you know exactly how much my paycheck is.” He paused, a thought visibly forming. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to discuss a raise—”

“Let’s go, everyone!” Liam announced loudly, cutting him off.

He flourished a black card in the air like a trophy.

“Today’s meal is brought to you by Cassian and his card!”

Cassian, walking beside me, froze mid-step.

“Wait—how did you get my card?”

He was off like a shot, closing the distance to Liam in seconds. They immediately dissolved into bickering, their voices overlapping as their hands gestured wildly. Something about wallets. Something about trust. Something about “borrowing” versus “theft.”

I laughed.