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“Want help?”
“I want this to be over with and to go back to bed.” It clicks under her chin and she breathes slowly through her nose. “Getting pelted by paintballs is not my idea of a romantic date.”
“Who said anything about romance?” I flip down my goggles. “Let’s kick some ass.”
I reckon shooting a group of spotty teenagers will help us release all this pent-up anger and resentment. Couples go on activities like this all the time to build trust and teamwork. This is my version of couples’ counseling. It’s foolproof.
The marshal walks to the front of the briefing hall. “Right, people, a reminder to you all: no shooting opponents closer than ten feet, allow surrender, and no aiming at heads. Let’s split into two teams. Red and blue.”
Just as he goes to split the room down the middle, Talia struts away from me.
Then we’re given armbands; me red, her blue.
I raise a brow.
She gives me a devilish smirk.
Oh, it is on.
We’re guided to two separate entrances leading into the play zone. Some guy takes the lead of our group, talking tactics and taking this far too seriously. I’m not listening, too busy surveying the field for the opposing team. Or one player in particular.
I’m feeling played, considering she was literally kicking and screaming in protest about taking part. Now suddenly she’s all for getting involved, if it means she can shoot me.
A horn sounds, announcing the start of the game.
“Hey, new guy, where are you going?” Wannabe GI Joe asks.
I wave him off. “I’m going solo. Every man for himself.”
“Wait…is that Tate Brooks?”
“Nope.” I detach myself from the group.
Then, a small figure catches my eye as it disappears behind a wall of hay.
Bingo.
Finger on the trigger, I stalk to the other end of the field. The first shot fires somewhere behind me, then carnage quickly ensues. I creep around the corner, gun raised. Then I pounce.
“Ah-ha!” I fire off two paint pellets.
And instantly regret it.
A kid half my size, eyes wide with fear and welling with tears, stares back at me.
“Why? What did I do to you?” he whimpers, dragging his hand over the red paint on his stomach. “I’m on your team.”
I’m going to hell. “Shit. Sorry. Sorry. My bad.”
His bottom lip wobbles.
“Oh. No. No. Don’t cry.”
He runs off crying. “Mommy!”
I’ll repent my sins later. Resuming my search, I take out two more players—with blue armbands this time. I forgot how fun this is.
After almost five minutes, Talia is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably hiding until it’s over. The game loses its excitement if she’s not enjoying it.
