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I trade a look with Nick. Are we opposed to taking out a three-year-old to win this game? He's considering it, I can tell. Maybe we could aim at her leg or something. It wouldn't hurt her that bad, right? I wobble my eyebrows, then stare at Colton, trying to mentally urge him to take down the big guy. He wobbles his back.
"I have no idea what that means," I whisper, trying not to move my lips too much. I wouldn't put it past Colton to read my lips.
"It means he's less likely to shoot y—“ A NERF bullet slams into Nick's cheek a second before I feel a battering of bullets down my right side. Mia screams "cowabunga", her bright giggles filling the air as she rams her finger on the trigger and continues pelting us with bullets.
Colton's howling laughter joins the giggles, and the smack of the bullets. Finally, Mia runs out of ammo and lowers her gun with a pout.
"You dead now, kay?"
Nick and I trade glances, then I let out a dramatic groan, clutching my heart as if I've been struck by the deadliest foam bullet known to mankind. I fall dramatically against the wall, and slowly, with a long low moan, slide to the floor.
"Nick, it's been an honor fighting alongside you," I say, my voice a dramatic wheeze. "Tell my sister I love her and my dog to stop eating my socks."
Nick coughs, barely suppressing his laughter, then falls to his knees. "Bree, you've been a worthy comrade. But I hate to break it to you...you don't have a dog."
"Right, I forgot." A giggle snort escapes and I press my hands to my cheeks. "Make sure they write something nice on my tombstone. I don't want anyone to know I was killed by a kid."
Nick drops face first to the rich carpet, chuckles rolling through his body. "I'm dead, remember? I can't do anything."
"Right," I mumble, tipping sideways until my head is tucked next to his. "We had a good run, didn't we? I hoped I'd get to shoot someone, but that's life, I guess."
Colton's belly laughs are starting to get annoying. I lift my head, glare at him, then raise my gun and fire one bullet, right in the middle of his eyes. I wish I could say it’s skill, but nope. He stares at me, dumbstruck, mouth gaping open. Mia plops down onto Nick's back, using him as a chair, and laughs so hard she nearly tips over. Nick's shaking back doesn't make it any easier for her to keep her seat.
"Bree!" Colton says. He'd be clutching his pearls if he had any. "I can't believe you did that." He tucks his little pink gun into the front of his sweatpants, sniffs, and moves to Mia, scooping her up under one arm. He grabs her gun with the other and glares at me as he heads for the stairs. "It doesn't count. You're already dead." Mia, still giggling, waves and yells "later dudes" as she disappears with her dad.
The door slams behind them, and I'm left lying on the floor with a still giggling Nick. I drop my head back next to his. I can't take it anymore. I yank my goggles off, then gently pull his away from his face. He goes still, lifting his head to give me room to work. Maybe I take a little longer doing the job than I planned, but god, his hair is so soft.
"Your hair's long enough for a man bun," I murmur, pushing it away from his face. He swallows, studying me, then smiles.
"Holly said the same thing. I don't actually know how to make a man bun."
He's fucking with me. He has to be. He just gave me the perfect opening. Giving in to the urge, I slide my hand into the hair near his face and gently pull it back. "You just pull it all back, like this, then go up. I can get you an elastic." I look toward my apartment door, and so does he. The air between us is charged with electricity. Why did I make that offer? No way should he be coming into my apartment.
Slowly, reluctantly, he shakes his head. "We better not. If Colton comes back here in the next five minutes and finds us gone, he'll never let me live it down."
"Okay," I murmur, relieved and also not. "Is that how long we have to wait? We're not out completely?"
"Nah, not out. In five minutes, we respawn. Then we take them down."
I roll over onto my back and stare up at the crisp white ceiling. "Perfect. I really want to nail him again."
Nick laughs and rolls over, too, folding his hands over his wide chest. I work with bodies every day. Of course I noticed his chest. It's not because I'm wondering what he looks like underneath the shirt. I mean, I'm sure he's gorgeous. I've seen him in enough tight tanks to know that for sure, but I still want to see.
"What do you think?" he asks, staring at me expectantly. Is he offering to take off his shirt? What did I miss?
"Sorry. Long day. I zoned out. What were you talking about?"
"The trip. To Miami? Do you think you can come?"
"Miami? Right, Cara texted me about it. I'd really like to go. I might be able to swing it if it was a quick weekend trip." Escaping this city, shaking off the gloom that's settled into my bones sounds like heaven.
"You can't get a few more days off?"
I shake my head…well I roll it side to side on the floor. "I could, probably, but I don't really want to. It would mean canceling patient appointments, and I really don't like doing that."
"Couldn't some of the other therapists step in?"
"Technically, yes. But it's not the same. I know my clients. I know what their pain tolerances are. I know just when to push them. And they trust me. It's not easy to shift that over to another therapist. Plus, they all have full caseloads too."
