Page 52 of Aim Assist

K waves a hand dismissively. "She's all yours, lover boy. I've got damage control to handle anyway." They stride into the waiting elevator, tossing a wink over their shoulder as the doors close.

I turn to Amy, squeezing her hand. She squeezes back. "Walk with me? I thought we could... talk."

Uncertainty flickers across her face, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. My heart sinks. But then she nods, squeezing my hand. "Okay. Lead the way."

Relief courses through me as I guide us toward the beach access. The sky is painted in vivid oranges and pinks as the sun hangs low, and a salty breeze ruffles our hair as we step out onto the sand.

Earlier in the day, it was hot. Now, it's cooling down.

I glance at Amy, drinking in how she looks in the oncoming sunset.

"So..." I clear my throat, trying to gather my scrambled thoughts. "About the other night. And, well, everything since then."

She tenses slightly beside me but doesn't pull away. I take that as a good sign.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you who I was, but I thought it would be a cute surprise." I rub the back of my neck, feeling like an ass. "It obviously wasn't."

Amy

Liam's apologizing. He's sweet. He's thoughtful. He's not angry or blaming me for my reactions.

And instead of responding to his words, I blurt out, "So, you have stalkers?"

Smooth, Amy. Real fucking smooth.

"Sometimes." He doesn't bat an eye, following my lead. "K usually takes care of them. They might dress up like a fairy, but they're Rambo deep inside."

"Rambo?" I ask, noting K's pronouns and adjusting them in my head.

"Rambo. You don't know Rambo? With Sylvester Stallone?"

Squinting at Liam's face, I try to place the level of horror plastered all over it. He's not faking it.

There's no way I'm going to admit that I know who and what Rambo is. Nope. This is the perfect way to avoid important conversations, and I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.

"Sorry, I don't get the reference."

Liam groans. "You're so young."

"Obscure references have nothing to do with age." I wave a hand dismissively. "It's about exposure. Maybe I was too busy gaming to watch it."

Liam's jaw drops. "Old movies? Rambo is a classic!"

"If it isn't viral, it doesn't get enough exposure to count."

"Rambo is... iconic. Timeless." He rubs his temples, looking genuinely distressed. "I can't believe you've never seen Rambo. It's a crime against cinema."

"Well, excuse me for not being born in the stone age." I smirk, enjoying his reaction perhaps a bit too much. "Some of us weren't around for the invention of the wheel, grandpa." I bump against him before continuing on with our walk. "Maybe it's not that I'm young, but that you're too old."

Liam hurries to catch up to me, his handsome face contorted in such anguish that I almost break character and confess I'm just messing with him about Rambo. Almost.

"I'm going straight to hell for robbing your cradle," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

A laugh bursts out of me and I loop my arm through his, relishing the electric thrill as his bicep presses against the side of my breast. "You regret it, huh?" I glance up at him through my lashes, biting my lower lip. "Robbing my cradle and all that?"

Liam halts abruptly, jerking me to a stop beside him. His intense green-blue eyes lock onto mine, a muscle ticking in his chiseled jaw. "No."

The single syllable rings with conviction, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

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