Page 53 of Forbidden Mischief
“Not bad,” he calls back, ducking behind a pillar as I try to track him down. “But I’m still winning.”
We dart around the arena, running, hiding, and aiming for each other in a game of cat and mouse that keeps me on edge. His precision with the gun is impressive, and for a second, I almost doubt my chances. Almost.
But then, a mischievous thought crosses my mind, and I decide to level the playing field. A subtle flick of my fingers beneath the safety of my vest, and I channel a little of my magic—just enough to give myself an edge without him noticing.
The next few minutes are a blur. I’m faster, sharper, my movements undetectable as I anticipate his every move. He’s still good—hell, he’s amazing—but now I’m always one step ahead, landing shot after shot.
“Gotcha!” I call again, a little louder this time, finally taking him down for the count.
Asher stops, blinking in surprise. “What the hell?” he mutters, glancing at me. I see the flicker of realization in his eyes, but he says nothing.
The game ends, and we both collapse against the wall, out of breath and laughing. My chest is heaving, the exhilaration of the win still buzzing through me.
“You’re good at this,” I say, flashing him a breathless smile, a smug satisfaction curling in my chest. “I told you I’d beat you.”
Asher shoots me a knowing look, his golden eyes soft but filled with a mix of admiration and mild annoyance. “You cheated, didn’t you?”
I raise my hands innocently. “Me? Cheat? Never.”
“Uh-huh.” His smirk returns, but this time, it’s accompanied by a laugh. “You’re lucky I love you.”
The words hit me like a shockwave. My heart stutters in my chest, and I freeze for a second, unable to speak. I’m staring at him, wondering if he truly meant it or if it was just a casual phrase, the kind people say without thinking.
Did he just say he loves me?
The world feels like it’s slowing down. I swallow, unsure of how to respond, my mind racing. We've never said those words before. Never even come close. I always thought we were in this place where things were… not tentative, but maybe unspoken. But now, the weight of his words lingers in the air between us.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My heart beats faster, suddenly aware of how much I want those words to be true, how much I want him to feel the same way I do.
Asher’s eyes flick to me, narrowing slightly, as if he’s waiting for something. A reaction. A confirmation. And for a moment, I wonder if he knows exactly how much those words have shaken me.
“You know,” I finally say, voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’m pretty lucky, too.”
The weight of the moment lingers between us, but the sound of the bustling crowd outside the arena pulls me from the daze. Asher’s gaze softens, and after a beat, he stands, offering me a hand.
“Come on, I’ve got something else planned,” he says, the playful spark returning to his eyes.
Without another word, he leads me outside, guiding us through the cool evening air. The city hums around us, but soon the noise fades, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves as we drive to a nearby park.
Asher parks the car and steps out, moving around to the trunk. He pulls out a blanket and a picnic basket, flashing me a grin. “Come on,” he says, nodding for me to follow.
He leads me down a narrow, grassy path to a quiet spot by a pond, nestled between two weeping willow trees. The sky has darkened, the first stars just beginning to twinkle above us.
Asher unfurls the blanket on the grass, his movements easy, confident, and steady. We settle down close together, the soft hum of the town fading into the background, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the quiet intimacy between us.
I lean against him, feeling his arm naturally wrap around me. The night feels perfect. We’ve shared laughs, playful competition, and now this—a quiet, intimate moment where nothing matters but being here, together.
I can’t help but notice the small basket Asher had packed, the subtle aroma of fresh bread and cheese mingling with the night air. He’d thoughtfully picked up a selection of deli meats, fruit, and a few chocolate-covered strawberries. We eat in contented silence, savoring each bite, the kind of easy, comfortable quiet that only deepens as the night goes on.
“You know,” he starts, his voice low and thoughtful, “I think I might actually be having more fun than I thought I would.”
“I’m glad,” I reply, my heart softening as I look up at him. “This was a good idea. You were right.”
He looks down at me, that same intensity in his eyes. “I’m always right when it comes to you.”
I smile, my fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that’s slow and tender, the kind of kiss that feels like the world has slowed down just for us. His hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and the moment feels like it’s stretched out in time, just for the two of us.
