Fall With Me

by Julie Particka

  I jerked the tank top on and grabbed my shrug. “No need. It’s not a date; I’m good to go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” So positive, I almost rolled my eyes.

  Of course when she rounded the bend on the stairs, Mom mumbled, “Not a date. Right.”

  The sarcasm was impossible to miss, and as soon as I hit the step she’d been on I realized what else was on full display—Sutton, standing in the entryway next to Dad, holding a bouquet of flowers.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Mom hit the landing first, and Sutton held the flowers toward her. “Evening, Mrs. Brandt. I just wanted to say thank you for letting Jenna come with me tonight. I’m sure you would rather she spent her first evening back at home, but we have a lot of catching up to do. Plus, as I recall, she needs to get a new tool belt.”

  He winked at me, and my cheeks burned. How had he known we hadn’t been able to find my belt in the garage? I glanced to my left in an attempt to gauge Mom’s reaction to the flowers, and Dad gave me a guilty smile. At least I’d found the leak. Oh well, it was as good an excuse as any to leave.

  “Yeah. Shopping is a necessity. We better get going if we want to take care of that before the store closes.”

  I did my level best to shove Sutton outside. On the driveway, he opened the door to a jet-black Dodge. Streetlights reflected off the gleaming metal, making the car seem far too dark and mysterious for something without an Italian name. Like this non-date, like Sutton himself, the car wasn’t giving anything up, and I needed something before I could climb inside. I paused with one hand on the door. “Time machine, spy car, or studmobile?”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Jem.” He bumped me with his hip, and I fell into the passenger seat. “It’s all three.” He was laughing when he shut the door, a fact that settled my nerves.

  His phone buzzed as he climbed into the driver’s seat. With a scowl, he stabbed at the screen before throwing the car into drive and heading toward the main road.

  Our banter was proof it wasn’t a date—studmobile or not. This was normal for us. Wasn’t it? It needed to be. This was supposed to be about friendship and helping me deal with my anger, not something else. Which meant I had to ask the stupid question, “Why did you buy my mom flowers?”

  “Because moms are still girls.” When I didn’t react—though I thought about giving him grief over calling women “girls”—he continued, “You were worried she wouldn’t let you leave the house. In my experience, unexpected flowers are a good deflector.” He adopted a voice like a documentary narrator. “The showiness of the blooms distracts the female, allowing the male of the species to swoop in and take what he wants. If the maneuver is performed well, the female rarely notices the missing item, sometimes going as far as to rejoice in its absence.”

  I blinked as an oncoming car flashed its high beams, blinding me. “I…see. First, I’m glad the flowers weren’t for me. Second, the fact that you sound like you’ve studied this is beyond creepy.”

  He shrugged. “I dated a few girls with puritanical parents. Ten o’clock curfews on weekends were about as much fun as you’d imagine. As for you, no flowers. You get what’s in the backseat instead.”

  “Huh?” And he’d just compared this to dates with other girls. What was it: date or not?

  He reached behind my seat and lifted a sack from Home Depot. “Consider it a Happy Rid-of-the-Asshole-Ex gift.”

  When the bag landed on my lap, I had to bite my lip to keep from saying something about being free of two assholes. The entire point of tonight was supposed to be about releasing some aggression without beating up Sutton or anyone else who didn’t deserve it—and I could bite my tongue about Lacey’s part in things when I was around him. “Thanks.”

  I reached inside the plastic as he stopped at a red light. The part of me that didn’t want this to be a date was terrified of what lay inside. The rest of me was giddy over the fact that Sutton—the guy I’d wanted so badly in high school—had bought me a present. I wanted to savor the moment as long as I could.

  “Oh, come on. The signal’s going to change soon.”

  He yanked on the bag and I found myself holding a brand-new tool belt. The leather had been dyed a bright pink. My mouth opened and closed a few times before I managed another lame, “Thanks.”

  “I figured that way yours definitely wouldn’t get mixed up with mine again.”

  “And it had to be pink?” I’d hated the color since I was little and my mom had insisted on dressing me in every girlie-girl thing under the sun. Including pink…with ruffles…and lace. Sutton knew that. He’d teased me about it because Lacey loved pink and we were alike in so many other ways.

  I twisted my face toward the window to keep him from seeing the disappointment I knew was written there. This wasn’t an I-like-you-do-you-like-me-check-yes-or-no gift. It was more like a torturous joke from a big brother. He wasn’t my brother, and I’d never wanted him to be. The plotting in high school for how to make Lacey my sister had cast him in a different role.

  “I didn’t have much choice. They didn’t have red, and that was the closest I could find to blood.”

  Adam. He’d been thinking about me wanting to get back at Adam when he bought it? I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Only you.” When I thought about it though, it was ridiculously sweet—both that he bought it for me and that he put that kind thought into it. Maybe it fell somewhere in between boyfriend and big brother as far as presents went.

  Before I started wondering if Mom was right and we were on a date—and how I really would’ve felt about it—I said, more emphatically this time, “Thank you. For all of this. I needed something to help me forget about Adam.”

  “Who said anything about forgetting?”

  “What?”

  Sutton’s lips twitched into a smile that could only be described as deliciously evil. And yes, I kind of wanted to taste it. “Forgetting is not the Jem I know. I thought you were the girl who kicked ass and took names.” I shrugged, not wanting to admit exactly how dead and gone that girl was. “Well, that’s the girl I was thinking might be on the hunt for blood. You telling me you don’t want to get a little revenge on the asshole?”

  “I—” Did I? I hated him, sure. I’d also thought it’d be better to walk away and have it over. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.” This time the smile was softer. He reached toward me like he was going to trail his fingers down my cheek—as if he’d asked me if I wanted to pull over and have sex rather than get revenge on my cheating ex—then he let his hand fall and squeezed mine instead.

  The whole thing made it harder to argue with him. “So what if I do?”

  “I want him the hell away from my sister.” This time when he applied pressure, his thumb rubbed slow circles on my skin. “So, if you are in the market for a little vengeance, how about we team up to kick the bastard to the curb?”

  Words flashed through my mind—chief among them “target practice.” I might be open to a lot of things—murder wasn’t one of them. “Whatever you have in mind, I’m not looking to do jail time because of him.”

  Sutton’s laughter echoed in the car. “I promise, no incarceration. And you don’t have to decide now. Tonight’s about clearing your head a bit to keep you from making any rash decisions.”

  Like deciding to go out with him in the first place? “Great. Where are we going anyway?”

  “Not much farther.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he spoke, instead keeping his glued to the road.

  “That was so not an answer.” And the fact that we were by the airport didn’t exactly inspire confidence. If he’d been a stranger, I’d have worried. Since it was Sutton, and he was already being cagey with the revenge thing, I was annoyed instead. “Look, if you’re planning on killing me and dumping my body, there are much easier places than the airport.”

  “No go. I need you alive for my plan. Then again, who’s saying I’m not using evasion to get your guard
down in order to sell you to some rich Russian guy with a private plane and a penchant for smart-mouthed American girls?” He turned off on a long drive, dodging potholes that looked as if they’d been left intentionally as decoration or something. Sutton finally glanced my way, his lips twisting into a smirk as his gaze raked over me. “The Russian likes to meet off the beaten path. What can I say?”

  What I wouldn’t have given to have him look at me like that in high school. Then again, it was heating me up in all the wrong places right now. I was back to the pull-over-and-have-sex option. Not a date. Not a date. Time to haul my brain from the gutter. “Do svidaniya comes to mind.”

  “That makes it sound like I wouldn’t be joining you on your Russian adventure. What kind of monster do you take me for?”

  “The kind that lures unsuspecting women into the woods to pass them over to strangers?” And looks at them like you want to devour them yourself.

  “Nope.” He pulled to a stop behind a pickup with a Will kill things for food sticker on the tailgate. “I’m the guy who takes you into the woods to give you a weapon and tell you to go shoot stuff. Way better than the other option.”

  He was out of the car before I had time to say anything. We were surrounded by what had to be the vehicles of every redneck in the metro area.

  “On second thought, I’ll take door number one. I’ve always wanted to see Moscow. And Siberia. Siberia sounds nice.”

  The frozen tundra would be a welcome escape right now. Especially considering that the non-date that had started to feel like a date but clearly wasn’t a date was already getting me far too overheated.

  Chapter Four

  -Sutton-

  The way her eyes flashed from one jacked-up truck to the next almost made me laugh. It was like the sedans and minivans in between them didn’t exist. Since I didn’t exactly want her pissed at me, I decided to focus on gearing up instead of laughing. A few seconds after I popped the trunk, she rounded the car to meet me.

  “Here.” I handed her some pants. “The windows are tinted if you want to change in the back. Or you can change inside.”

  She eyeballed the black pants. “Getting me naked already? Without the Russian? Am I worth as much then? And what is this whole revenge scheme of yours?”

  “Nope, but you’ll be safer. There are pads in these to protect your more vital bits. Fun now; revenge later.”

  “What are we doing, Sutton?”

  “What I promised. Now take the pants.”

  She snatched them from my fingers and disappeared around the side of the car. “Glad you think the only parts of me that need protection are below the waist. Very male of you.”

  I ducked around the lid of the trunk. “Nah. I’ll get the rest of you covered up after. I figured you’d rather I didn’t help with the clothing removal.” Though if I were wrong, I would kick myself. In the nuts.

  I’d just finished divvying up the gear when Jenna came into view again, holding the pants up. “Uh. These are obviously not made for a woman.”

  “They aren’t made for anyone, but they belong to my friend Conrad.” I grabbed the tabs tucked into the slots at her waist and pulled, cinching the pants securely. “That’s better. Here’s the rest of what you need. You can wear it over your tank top if you want.”

  Shaking her head, she took the shirt and yanked it on. “It’s a good thing I decided to trust you or I’d be getting worried… Is this a flak vest?”

  “Yes. You’re going to want it—to protect your other vital bits.” This time when I choked while trying not to laugh, she huffed a sigh. As soon as she snatched it from my fingers, I finished getting myself ready. I had on my own vest, and she was still trying to fix the straps on hers. “Here. Let me help or we’re going to be late—it’s almost nine.”

  “Late? Wouldn’t want to be late to the flak jacket and reinforced pants party.” She raised her arms, and I let my fingers trail down her side to find the adjustments. When her breath caught, my lips twitched. I couldn’t help it. “Oh, screw you. I’ll do it myself. This is not an opportunity for you to remember how ticklish I am.”

  I let my hands fall on hers. “Sorry. I actually did forget. I promise not to tickle you.” As much as I wanted to do it, I kept myself in check. The vest tightened, drawing my attention to the way it pressed against her breasts. I put some distance between us before I did something more than tickle her. “Carry the helmet. Tuck these in your pockets.”

  She took the cartridges and shoved them into the vest. Then I passed over her gun. “Wait.” She blinked, and I shut the trunk. “You brought me to play paintball?”

  I shrugged and headed toward an eight-foot gap in the high wooden fence that surrounded the outdoor arena. “You said you needed a target. I’m giving you dozens. Granted, some of them will be girls, but you can pretend they’re all Adam.”

  She bristled when I said “girls,” and I wanted to say it again, simply to put that fire back in her. I’d teased her about that since the day I’d heard her and Lacey discussing when the transition from girl to woman happened. I’d told her for some people it never did. She’d turned so adorably red I never stopped poking at it.

  “Well, at least I can verify with my mother this isn’t a date then. Because if it were, it’d be a last date.”

  I paid and we stepped past the “bathrooms”—smaller fences enclosing port-a-potties and barely enough room to change clothes without standing in the john. “We’ll see if you still feel that way when the night’s over.” I caught myself as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Way to go, dickhead. “That way I can warn your future boyfriends paintball is a bad plan.” And maybe shoving my foot completely into my mouth was the better tactic. At least then I wouldn’t keep sabotaging myself with her.

  She rolled her eyes as we passed bleachers splattered with crimson paint. “How does this work? Is it a free-for-all?”

  I ushered her through the shorter fence and into the arena. Having formerly served as an illegal motorcycle racing track, the place covered a lot of ground—nearly three hundred feet across and over four hundred long. Scattered across the field were a variety of obstacles from concrete construction barriers to burned-out cars and even a couple trashed motorcycles that had been left behind. I glanced at the clock hanging over the entrance. “In five minutes, an air horn will sound. It signals the beginning of the first round. They’re timed—thirty minutes each. War rules here. Once you get hit, you’re out and sit in the Dead Man Zone until the end of the round.” I pointed at the bleachers. “They keep track of who’s dead—anyone who survives four of the first five rounds goes into the final round at midnight. Winner gets their paintballs for the night comped.”

  “And let me guess, you always end up in that last round?”

  “Let’s just play the game, Jem.” Trying not to think about the time I’d brought Lacey and she’d mentioned how much Jenna would love this, I led her to a little-used spot near the southeastern edge of the arena.

  She hunkered down next to me. “What’s to keep me from shooting you as soon as the horn goes off?”

  “Same thing that’s keeping me from shooting you.” I hope. Fans built into the fencing whirred. They were good cover for sneaking up on people, but not very convenient with the long hair that now twisted around Jenna’s face. “Here.” I grabbed a rubber band that held my extra CO2 canister in place and twisted her hair into a ponytail.

  “Thanks.” She turned toward me, and her ponytail slid like silk from my fingers.

  Her gaze followed its motion; then she met my eyes and the world stopped. My hand shifted, cupping her cheek, my fingers catching still-loose strands of her hair. She bit her lip, letting it go slowly as I leaned toward her.

  And then the air horn went off and she jerked away, slamming her faceplate shut. “Shit.”

  I really shouldn’t have tried to kiss her. “I’m sorry.” I clenched my gun, ready to dive into the game and ignore the way I’d already screwed up. The plan was reven
ge first, then see if I could build something with her. She needed Adam purged from her system before I moved in.

  “Not your fault. I bit myself.”

  I grabbed her chin and turned her face toward me. Blood from her already-swollen lip smeared her chin, and I winced.

  “That awful, huh?”

  It was like she’d already forgotten the almost-kiss. Or maybe I’d been the only one imagining that’s where the moment had been headed. Choking on my pride, I reached under her faceplate and swiped a finger across her lip. “Nope. It makes you look like a badass. I’d be afraid to shoot you.”

  She shook her head and laughed quietly. “If we don’t move soon, I’m pretty sure everyone’s going to shoot us. See you in the Dead Zone.”

  With that, Jenna whipped around the corner of our barricade and opened fire. She took out her first guy before I’d had a chance to move. And the second as I dove for new cover since she’d given our position away. That one would have had me, too. As it was, his shot hit the ground an inch from my leg.

  I didn’t see Jenna again until I stumbled into the Dead Man Zone twenty minutes later. She was grinning like a little kid, with paint splatters on both her arms. A couple of them large enough to show she’d been pummeled—probably running between one spot of cover to the next. “How can you be so happy?”

  “See those ten guys behind me? The ones sulking?”

  Over her shoulder, there were indeed a bunch of guys looking about as unhappy as I’d seen people in the box. “Yeah.”

  “They’re mine.”

  And in her head, they’d probably all been Adam. Flopping down next to her, I propped myself up on my elbows and examined her more closely. She looked gorgeous splattered in paint: wild and fierce. A sudden image of her wearing nothing other than paint forced me to be a little more clinical in my inspection.

  Five hits. Only one lethal. There’d still be bruises aplenty come morning. I hadn’t thought this through. The idea of explaining to her father tomorrow didn’t appeal to me very much. “Is the need for brutality cleared from your system? If it is, we can bow out of the rest.”