Page 86 of Pucking Amazing

My pulse races and it’s not just from the impending paintball battle.

“I call DJ!” Jason yells. “No way I’m letting that bastard snipe me again.”

“In your dreams, Jace. I’m sticking with my boy Ty, you’ll never see us coming.” I slap Tyler on the back, letting my hand drift lower than strictly necessary. He flashes me a crooked grin.

We break into two teams and disperse to opposite ends of the arena. As smaller groups splinter off to strategize, Tyler discreetly pulls me behind a stack of crates.

“So what’s the play?” he asks teasingly, those baby blues boring into me.

I swallow hard. “Uh, Jason and Slade are the biggest threats. Let’s try to take them out first. You hang back, pick ‘em off from a distance. I’ll draw their fire.”

“Draw their fire, huh?” He steps closer, crowding into my space and lowering his voice. “You sure that’s a good idea with your bum knee?” He studies my face, something like worry in his eyes.

Concern spikes through me. He doesn’t know it’s hurting again, does he?

“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a guy,” I deadpan, keeping my voice intentionally light. “My knee is fine. It’s sweet of you to worry though, babe.”

Tyler rolls his eyes but I catch his smile at the endearment. “If you say so. Don’t come crying to me when you’re limping later.”

“Oh, I can think of a few other reasons I might be limping...” I joke, moving to slide my fingers up his chest.

He shoves me, blushing. “Dude! The guys are right there.”

I drop my arm, chuckling. “Relax, they can’t see us. But you’re right, we should focus. Let’s light these mofos up.” I clack my paintball gun for emphasis and Ty’s face splits into a wide grin.

The whistle blows and chaos erupts. Paint splatters the bunkers in streaks of neon, shouts echo across the arena. I duck and weave, trying to draw the opposing team’s attention. A paintball whizzes past my ear. Too close.

I spot Jason crouched behind a stack of tires. Gotcha. I line up my shot, exhale, and?—

Whap! A paintball explodes across Jason’s chest.

Behind me, Tyler whoops. “Sit down, son!”

We fall into an easy rhythm, moving in sync. He lays down cover fire while I advance. Slowly, we pick off the others until it’s just Slade left standing.

“Where is he?” Tyler hisses.

“No clue. Tricky bastard.” A paintball pings off the bunker by my head and I flinch. “Shit!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just startled me.” I risk a peek around the edge of the bunker, scanning for any sign of Slade. Nothing. Dammit.

“I’m gonna make a run for that SUV. Cover me.”

Tyler frowns. “DJ, wait?—”

But I’m already off, zig-zagging toward a rusted-out SUV in the middle of the arena. Paintballs splatter the ground at my feet. Almost there. I dive for cover...

And collide with a warm, solid mass. Slade grins down at me, paintball gun leveled at my chest. “Gotcha.”

We stare at each other for a breathless moment...then crack up laughing.

“Man, I really thought I had you!” I wheeze.

“That’s why I’m the captain,” he says smugly. “Better luck next time, rook.”

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the match. I’m still grinning as we exit the arena, riding high on endorphins and camaraderie. The guys are ragging on each other good-naturedly, all jokes and easy rapport.

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