Page 2 of I Choose You

“Exactly,” I say, beaming.

His full lips waiver, and his lean shoulders push into the butt of his gun even though it’s facing the leaf-riddled ground. “What happens now?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question.”

Mason, Luke’s twin brother—and my best friend—yells from the canopy, his captivating voice giving me encouragement. “Take the asshole down, Kenz!”

My wide smile touches my ears, and I wish I could see the look on his face. He may love his brother, but Luke is the last person he wants to win.

Luke scoffs before shouting back, “Screw you!”

I imagine Mason’s sinister yet charming grin, the one that lines his lips during gameplay and shows his mischievous side. The side of him I secretly love. “That’s Mackenzie’s job currently!”

Luke’s green orbs stay focused on mine through their exchange.

“Don’t cry when you lose, Sacks,” I say, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.

Inhaling a deep breath, I lean my shoulder into my gun and steadily exhale, drawing it out for effect. I welcome the calm that settles into my limbs, knowing there’s nothing for me to think about while I’m in this position. There’s no second guessing myself now. Any worries I have fade to black as I concentrate on winning.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Luke voices as defeat winds into his features, causing his shoulders to slump.

“What’s the rush?” I ask, half-amused and somewhat concerned over his sudden shift in confidence.

Without warning, Luke turns, and I snap back into applying pressure on my trigger. The recoil pushes back into my shoulder as a paintball blows out of the muzzle and targets Luke. I add in two extra shots to secure my win—snap…snap, snap—then drop to my knees beside the hay bale for safety.

A grunt falls from his mouth as the tiny spheres punch his body and explode into color.

“Ha!” I jump to my feet, the satisfaction on my face as noticeable as the fuchsia paint splotches on his gear. “I see what you did there. Thought you could distract me. What’s that? Number four?”

He narrows his gaze, hating that it’s the fourth time he’s lost going head-to-head with me.

“You cheat,” he says, though the teasing lilt in his voice tells me it’s all in good-natured fun. His playful, tongue-in-cheek response is nothing more than years of competition between us, whether it’s paintball now or kickball in fifth grade. In the snap of a finger, his toothy grin and confidence come back.

I chuckle at his crappy comeback and drop my gun to my side before putting a hand on my hip. “That the best you got?”

Mirroring me, his gun falls, and the connected strap allows it to rest against his side. He hangs an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into a good-game side hug. “I’ll get you next time. Wait and see.”

His joking tone overwhelms me with joy. “Can hardly wait.”

He pulls me tighter, crushing my shoulder against his chest due to our height difference, and yanks my head closer. His fist rubs against my head, giving me a noogie that causes heat to spread over my scalp and my twisted bun to lean to one side of my head. I’m small compared to his towering height, but I relish in the safety of it, something that always gets me when he or Mason pull me in for a hug.

I smack at his stomach, begging for him to stop between chortles of laughter. Only when we make it over to the canopy does he release me. Mason and Layla raise their hands for high fives as soon as we approach.

A satisfying sense of pride washes over me when Mason reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. Chills slither under my gear when his pinky skims my neck. “It never gets old seeing you take this fool down,” he hitches a thumb at his brother.

Luke flips him the finger. “At least I stayed in the game longer than two minutes.” Layla curls into Luke’s side the second he’s close enough to latch onto. Long golden locks stretch down her back, and the crown of her head rests just under Luke’s chin as he wraps an arm around to squeeze her waist. Luke’s opposite hand moves to comb through the longer hairs on the top of his head. The wavy layered strands paired with the tapered texture on the sides have been his signature look since high school and have just enough edge to match his personality without taking from it.

They’re so damn cute I can hardly stomach it.

Layla pats his chest and looks up at him, her robin-blue eyes love-struck and bright. “Never a bad thing to knock this guy down a notch.” Her smile is sweet with an undercoating of confidence.

For a split second, I get a glimpse of him getting down on one knee and asking for her hand in marriage. While my heart swells at the thought of them settling down, I can’t—for the life of me—imagine handing my heart over to someone who would have the ability to shatter it with an icepick in the blink of an eye.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when Luke throws an arm up in my peripheral and points at himself while his eyebrows draw together. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Layla.” He enunciates the next word in mock annoyance, making me grin. “Mine.”

A good-humored smile appears on Layla’s face. “I’m always on your side, but she was going to win either way.”

Mason rolls his lips into his mouth and juts his chin out, “You picked a good one this time.” He aims his next words at Layla. “You’re always welcome to join in. Long as you help keep him in his place.”

---