Page 44 of One Wrong Move

Happy.

“Go on,” she tells me.

I line up my shot. Breathe out, focus… and let the arrow fly. It hits the bullseye with a dull twang.

She inhales sharply. “Holy shit.”

“Lucky,” I say, and lower my bow. “Your turn.”

This time she hits the outer ring and curses softly as she tallies up the points. I feel her heavy eyes on me when I draw my second shot, too. It lands next to the first, right at the edge of the bullseye. But it counts.

Adrenaline makes me grin.

“Nate,” she says. “How did you just do that twice in a row?”

I rest both hands on the top of my bow, leaning the tip of it on the ground. “When I was a kid, my brother and I were regularly shipped off to various summer schools and summer camps.”

Anything to get us out of the city and out of Dad’s care. He’d had enough to handle with my little sister and the company that he’d dedicated his entire life to those first few years after Mom died.

Not to mention his grief.

“And you did archery.”

“Four summers in a row, yeah.”

“I hate you.” She breathes. “So the shots you made earlier, they were… what? Decoys?”

“It might have been a deliberate misdirection on my part.” Her look of outrage makes me laugh. “You already know I don’t mind false impressions.”

“Clearly.” She glares at her target and then at mine with obvious dismay. “You need to miss the target, and I need to hit a bullseye for me to have any chance of winning.”

I look around. Calvin is nearly out of sight, standing by the far edge with a thermos in hand, chatting with a bearded man.

Moving closer to Harper, I say, “Your stance is good. You’re doing exactly what he said… but lower this arm. Draw the bow.”

She does exactly that, holding it taught. Her left elbow is too high. I step in behind her and put a hand on top of her left biceps. Gently push it down until her shoulders are in a straight line.

“That’s it,” I say. A lock of her hair is teasing my cheek, and I try to ignore it. Fail to. “Pull it back, nock by your mouth… look at the bullseye, and take a deep breath…”

She inhales deeply, softly, and I let my other hand hold her right shoulder steady. Touching her like this is a bad idea.

But all of this is a bad idea.

“Aim… and let go.”

She holds a second longer before letting it fly.

The arrow hits the bullseye with a sharp sound, vibrating where it’s stuck.

Harper lets her bow drop and turns in my arms. “Oh my God!”

“You did it,” I say.

She glances at the target, blush coloring her cheeks. And I realize I’m still holding her shoulders. Slowly, reluctantly, my hands drop. Fall to my sides, where I let them fist tightly.

“I don’t know what magic you just performed, but thank you,” she says, looking back up at me. Her green irises have small flecks of gold in them. I never noticed that before, and I notice everything. It feels like an oversight.

Her smile softens. “You know, you just helped an opponent.”

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