Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(33)
BEN
“Good morning, sunshine!” I plaster on a wide smile as I drop Reese back down to the ground and watch her whip around, a mixture of surprise and irritation on her face.
“What are you doing here?”
I gesture down to my worn jeans and a crappy gray shirt. “Giving you a chance to get even with me for laughing at you.”
Those caramel eyes flash, as if afraid that I’ll elaborate. I step back a bit as she marches toward me, wondering if I should stop grinning like an idiot and protect myself against an imminent throat punch. “I mean, how did you know I’d be here?”
I jut my chin in Mason’s direction. “After you bailed on me over text last night—really lame, by the way—I called Mason to kick your ass. He was over at your friend’s place and told me what was going on. So . . .” I shrug and then offer her a smug smile. “Here I am. I figure we can head back to the office together after.” Not waiting for her response—because I’ll throw her over my shoulder and carry her stubborn little body to my car if I have to—I call out to Mason, “Is this the one you were givin’ it to last night? If so,” I nod once, “nicely done.”
Mason’s face bursts with color as he tries to keep the small, proud smile from stretching out across his lips. Good for him. The guy needs to get laid on a regular basis. And the girl—I recognize her as the non-Korean Korean friend of Reese’s—is girl-next-door cute. “Hey! Long time no see!”
“You actually remember me?” The girl’s tone is flat and thick with doubt.
“I don’t forget a pretty face, darlin’.”
“Cheesy” Reese mutters, skewering me with a strange look. “That’s Lina and this is Nicki, since I’m sure you don’t remember the names that go along with those unforgettable faces.”
I open my mouth but falter as it clicks. So . . . that’s what jealousy looks like on Reese. “Didn’t you give me fake names?”
Reese’s face twists up as the girl to her right, the one who looks like she could give me a good run for my money in an arm wrestle, bursts out in laughter. “That’s right. We were Charlie’s Angels that night.”
Reese, on the other hand, isn’t smiling. “Traitors. The lot of you!” She yanks her mask on, spins around, and marches toward the field entrance like she’s on a mission.
And I watch her cute camouflaged ass the entire time, knowing that at least one of those paint bullets has my name on it.
“I haven’t done this since I was, like, fifteen,” I say as the five of us pick our path through the wooded terrain, my eyes peeled for our opponents. There are several teams playing at once today and we—the purple team, as picked by Reese—are hunting anyone with a thick red band on their arm.
How fitting.
We’ve shot four already, with no casualties on our side as of yet. “This place is great,” Nicki purrs in a soft voice. “They could do a whole Hunger Games theme.”
She’s right, they could. It’s like an arena out here—the forest is thick enough, and the ground cover high enough, to create the perfect hunting ground. They even have small outpost buildings scattered throughout. I wish I had known about this place sooner. I’ll have to bring Nate and the guys here for a game. Maybe even Kacey.
“Too bad you’re not allowed to climb the trees,” I murmur with a head shake as I watch Reese wrap her arms around a tree branch and start pulling herself up. Handing my gun to Mason, I hook an arm around her small waist and yank her down just as she’s about to throw her leg over it. “I have a feeling you’re worse with following rules than I am.”
She answers by spinning around to train that gun of hers on my chest. “I’m also not against shooting my own team members.”
I chuckle, pushing it away. I know she’s telling the truth. “You want to get kicked out of the game? Because there are refs everywhere here.” The playing field is so big, they ride around on ATVs.
“I was merely trying to get a better—”
Her words are cut off by the clicking sound of a semiautomatic gun and bursts of paint splatters nearby.
“Take cover!” Mason’s girlfriend, Lina, shouts, oddly enough sounding like a soldier as she bolts, running for the small shack about twenty feet away. We’re all tight on her heels, diving into it as the assault continues. Mason’s howl just as he rounds the corner to protection tells us we have our first casualty. Lina spins him around to confirm the big blue splatter on the back of his tidy plaid shirt. “Yup, you’re dead.”
“That hurt,” he complains.
I hear a fake cough muffling a “Sissy” coming from Reese as she peeks out the small window, followed by a soft punch in the shoulder from her friend Nicki.
“What do I do now?” Mason asks, ignoring his stepsister.
Someone outside answers for us. “Guy in the plaid shirt! We know you’re hit! Don’t be a cheater and try to wipe off the paint!” he yells.
“I’m not cheating!” Mason exclaims with indignation. “I don’t cheat!”
“Yeah, whatever,” comes the lazy reply. “Come out where we can see you with your hands up!”
“There’s some real wackos around here,” Nicki mutters, sticking the nose of her gun through the hole to shoot a few rounds out.