Page 76 of Aim Assist

Can't ask her to move in. She'll run.

Can't ask to date. She'll run.

Amy likes to pretend she's capable of forever, but she's too scared of rejection to ever open up.

The only thing I can think of is crinkling in my back pocket, waiting for the right time to whip it out.

I'm sweating, but it isn't from bringing in boxes and furniture. No, there's a hell of a lot more to it.

A n x i e t y .

It's a bitch.

So when Amy runs into me, walking home with Lucky, I feel a little relief that this moment is finally here.

It's time for this to get done.

Better than lying awake sleepless for two months.

Thank God, she's still been playing Shadow Ops. Her movements are more aggressive than ever, and I can't risk voice chat—I muted myself and told her my headset was broken, a simple lie that she didn't bother second-guessing—so, while she's had two months without me, I've been basking in the hours we spend slaughtering zombies every night.

AmYDeadYet has become very fond of Trickshot999.

It makes me feel a little guilty that I never followed up and told her everything. Hopefully that won't bite me in the ass today.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, in the rudest welcome.

"I'm moving in."

"Clearly. But why here?"

Telling her because you are will probably… make her run.

So I shrug. "Work. The company's founded here, remember?"

"Oh. Right."

I can see it in the way her brow furrows, the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she nibbles on it. She's thinking this is all some sort of coincidence.

Oh, angel.

It's not.

"Do you have some time?" I ask, because the longer I give her time to think, the higher the likelihood of a run.

I've given her two months. I'm not giving her another second more.

She nods, a single jerk of her head, before she turns and leads the way to her front door. My heart races, pounding against my ribs as I follow her. This is it. My chance.

Don't fuck it up, Liam.

The door swings open and Lucky races inside, nails clicking on the hardwood floors. Amy kicks off her shoes and I follow suit, my eyes roaming her body as she bends to line them up neatly on the mat. The urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her back against me and feel her warmth, is nearly overwhelming.

"Tea?" She glances over her shoulder at me, already moving toward the kitchen.

"Sure." I trail after her, my gaze drifting over the sway of her hips, the tumble of her hair down her back. Fuck, I've missed her. Missed the way she moves, the sound of her voice, the way she smells. Like cupcakes and rainbows and then something sexy and dark underneath.

Like Amy.

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