by Tessa Bailey
When she looks up at me, totally lacking in guile and seeking—always seeking—something more from me, I wonder if I could be better in her eyes than I am in the eyes of everyone else. Maybe I’m crazy, but the possibility lightens some of the tension in my gut. How long has it been there? As if Katie holds the answers, I move closer like there’s an invisible rope tied around my waist, tugging me forwards. Katie’s smile dips slowly, replaced by awareness and alarm, so I stop when our toes bump.
“Been thinking all night about this fountain adventure of yours—” Her frown cuts me off. “What’s wrong?”
She’s staring at my mouth, which should be a good thing, but her expression is nothing short of troubled. Right out of nowhere. “C-can I talk to you outside in the hall?”
Sweet. I thought I was going to have to work a lot harder to get her alone. “Took you long enough to realize how irresistible I am.” I wink to let her know I’m joking. Mostly. “Lead the way.”
A wrench turns in my gut when Katie doesn’t laugh. Instead, she looks dazed as she pivots on a heel and heads for the side exit. Except for a couple of shrewd recruits, everyone is too distracted by their task to pay attention to us leaving. Of course, one of the shrewd ones is Charlie, who raises an eyebrow at me as I walk past. No idea, I mouth as I slide out into the deserted corridor. Once the door closes behind us the sound of gunfire fades, leaving only the buzzing, flickering halogen above our heads.
Without dozens of eyes on us, my first instinct is to walk her backwards until she’s flattened between me and the far cinder block wall. That thin T-shirt she’s wearing needs my hands underneath it, like, right now. My tongue can already taste her moaning into my mouth while I tug down the cups of her bra and thumb those nipples. We’d only have a few minutes to play, though, because the last thing I want is Katie’s job suffering because of me. Someone—like the lieutenant—could walk out at any minute. Some primitive part of me fist pumps over the idea of marking my territory, but I order myself to stop being an idiot caveman. That’s not me and it never has been. Yet the fist pumping rages on.
I ease into Katie’s space, letting my fingertips brush against her hips. God, I want to taste her so bad, but she looks stiff and it’s making my stomach churn. “Something wrong?”
“Yes. I-I think so.” Her swallow is audible. “Have you been drinking, Jack?”
Clarity slams into me hard. It’s like waking up from a dream, but I’m in a different location than where I fell asleep. The veins in my temples pump hard, as if they’re full of hot sludge, instead of blood. Dread thins my stomach lining. Apart from the occasional squabble with Danika, I’ve never had to answer for my drinking. It’s part of my days and nights. I don’t have to think as much when my mind is numb. Apparently I wasn’t thinking at all when I entered the firing range buzzed.
I remember Katie’s refusal to go inside the bar yesterday and my fuckup blinks like a bright, neon sign. Me being buzzed at ten o’clock in the morning is not good in the eyes of anyone, let alone this girl. Forget the fact that I could get in trouble with the academy or that the danger of the situation only occurred as an afterthought to me, Katie is visibly unsettled. I did this to her. I’m unsettling her. If I was ever tempted to apologize for the way I cope with my shitty memories, now is the time, but the stubborn voice inside me excusing my methods is too loud to drown out. I do what I have to do.
“It’s no big deal, Snaps, all right?” I attempt a reassuring smile, but she doesn’t appear to be biting, kicking panic into my bloodstream. “I just find orange juice boring on its own.”
She processes that with a few blinks. “I know you’re trying to be funny, right?” God, the step she takes away from me echoes in my chest. That one step might as well put a mile divide between her and me. “But I can’t let you handle weapons when you’ve been drinking. If something were to happen—”
“Listen, I get it.” I want to lunge across the space between us, but force myself to stay put. “I can skip this one and make it up later, huh?”
“I wasn’t allotted time for makeups.” She dodges eye contact while chewing on her bottom lip. “It would have to be after . . . after regular training hours, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Especially now.”
“What do you mean especially now?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I don’t want to know. Not yet. Not when I have to hear it through a vodka buzz. She’s either going to cut me off because she’s my instructor or because I showed up this morning half-drunk. Neither one of those outcomes is desirable. “Never mind. Look, let’s just talk about this when we meet at the fountain tonight.”
“Jack.” Her tone is full of warning. “You have to know everything is different now.”
“It’s not safe for you to go alone.”
“Would you come alone? Or would you . . .” She fidgets. “Bring your girlfriend, or—”
I rear back like I’ve been coldcocked. “Girlfriend?”
She covers her face. “That was so stupid. I have no tact or clever ways to discern relationship status and that was so, so stupid. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because everything is different now, like I said.”
Who is this girl? I’ve never come across a single other person like her in my life. She just truthed me again, throwing insecurities up in the air like confetti and as the pieces flutter down, I want to catch them all and stuff them in my pockets. There’s no game between us. She doesn’t know how to play them, so I’m allowed to not play mine. It’s fucking amazing. “Honey, you’re the closest thing I have to a girlfriend and you’re trying to get rid of me. For the second time. I don’t have enough humiliation left over to split between two girls.”
When her surprised laugh falters, I realize I’ve moved closer. Immediately I stop, but the air thrums with awareness. Mine. Hers. She’s wary of me, sure, but her gaze continues to dip to my mouth, my chest. Her nipples become noticeable behind the material of her T-shirt. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I have a boyfriend?”
“No.” My fingers flex, like they’re wishing for some imaginary guy to throttle. “You wouldn’t have kissed me if you did.”
Her smirk is edible. “At least not the second time.”
Shit, she’s got me so hot. Pressing the advantage of our attraction isn’t right when the fact that I’ve been drinking makes her nervous, though, so I stay put. When we walked into the hallway, I couldn’t have been lighter. Now I’m buried under wet concrete and I have to shovel my way out.
Normally, I would just laugh this whole situation off and forget about it. So I don’t get to shoot a bunch of big-ass guns? Fine. Less work for me. So I lose my chance with a girl? Whatever. There’s literally five million more in this city.
They’re not this girl, though. Not Katie. Katie who is balanced on the balls of her feet, seeming undecided between jumping my bones and running away. Katie who looked so guilty over having to kick me out of class, even though it’s not her fault, and stumbled her way through asking if I was attached. Katie whose taste I’m still holding on to because I’ve never experienced anything like her. If I want a chance to experience her again, I have to fix this. Is it crazy to think I can keep it fixed, though? I’ve never been with a girl longer than one night, maybe two.
“Let’s make a deal,” I say, struck by inspiration. “You let me come tonight and I promise, I won’t make a move on you.”
A few notes of laughter trip out of her mouth, her shoulders relaxing. “Is that meant to be noble?”
“If you knew how bad I want my hands on you, noble would be an understatement.”
Those nipples of hers tighten even more and I almost collapse a lung keeping my growl from escaping. “You’ve got me in a weak moment, here, because even though drinking vodka before breakfast is not sound behavior—”
“If you think this stern teacher lecture is getting me any less hot, you’re wrong.”
“Even though I know that,” she wheezes, her tits trembling. “I’m ne
w to this instructor thing, so maybe I’m a bit of a softy. And I’ve still got that yucky guilty feeling for making you lose today’s course credit.”
“You’re going to let me make today’s credit up, though, right?” My dick is like a steel rod at this point. He wants between Katie’s legs and doesn’t understand the delay because he’s a spoiled jerk. “After hours. Right, Snaps?”
“I haven’t decided,” she whispers, analyzing my face. “But if we make up the credit, that’s all we’ll be doing.”
“Fair enough. Same with tonight.” I tuck my hands underneath my armpits to make my point. “No touching. No kissing. Even though we’ll be thinking about it. Wanting it. I’ll be there as your lookout, nothing more.”
She purses her lips, but there’s humor sparkling in her eyes. “You’re very arrogant.”
“You kissed me last night. Do you think there’s a reason?”
“I seem to recall you were the one begging,” she says breathily.
My balls squeeze like they’re in a vise. “If you like begging, I’ll give it to you, honey,” I rasp. “I’ll wear out the knees on every pair of jeans in my closet . . . begging.”
Just like last night on the bench, her thighs cinch together at the insinuation that I would go down on her. And I would. Until she screamed for me to stop. Pretty sure my eyes are communicating that message because her eyes are like silver dollars. Christ, this is the epitome of torture. Knowing you’ve gotten a girl good and wet, then walking away. And yet, all I can think about is doing it again tonight.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask, as the light above our heads flickers.
Her eyes are drawn to the light, her lips parting on a soft intake of breath. Studying me for a beat, she walks past me, settling a hand on the doorknob. After another pause, she sends me a serious look from beneath a forest of eyelashes. “Don’t make me regret this, Jack.”
Chapter 6
Katie
This is a terrible idea.
Honestly, I thought I had a level head on my shoulders. But not only am I meeting a recruit after hours—I’m preparing to do something sort of a wee bit innocently illegal. So why is there a rush of bubbles floating down the veins of my arms, making my fingertips tingle?
It’s just around 11:00 p.m., but the buzz of life in Central Park is still rippling in the air. The occasional jogger trundles past me. People bundled into their jackets walk their groomed dogs, while staring down into the lit-up screens of their phones. I take the occasional picture with my camera, trying to catch the wind slithering through the trees. I can barely swallow around the lump of excitement in my throat. Just to be out. To be anonymous in a giant sea of endless anonymous. Possibilities for the innocent mischief I was never allowed to indulge in lay in every corner of the park, inside every jagged building sticking up around the perimeter.
When my brother was alive, we used to dream about coming to New York City for a summer holiday. We were going to get jobs in a pub in some trendy neighborhood, a cheap apartment in one of the outer boroughs near the train station. Everyone would come to our place, because we’d always have something good on the telly and enough crisps to go around. Sean was three years older than me, so he would have gone back to Ireland after our summer trip with only one year left to go until graduation, while I would have just been starting college.
But everything can change in a split second. I learned that the hard way. And maybe it’s on the morbid side, but I look back now and remember all these tiny hints the universe dropped in my lap that Sean would be taken away too soon. There’s one that stands out more than most. The last time we were together, he’d picked me up from school in his lorry. My passenger side window was fogged because of the chill outside and I remember drawing lazy hearts in the condensation. His favorite band, The Kinks, drifted from the stereo where he’d hooked his iPhone. The song “This Time Tomorrow” came on and we both sang along—even though neither of us could carry a note—and by that time the following day, he was gone.
I look for signs everywhere now. Tiny hints from your man upstairs that I need to pay better attention to what’s in front of me. Much to my dismay, it keeps happening with Jack. Just when I’m ready to employ common sense and write him off—hello, he was drunk at ten in the morning—there’s a tiny nudge from the universe. The ancient light flickering over his head today when he offered me tonight’s deal. Or the car horn wailing in the park when he asked to come along to the fountain. My own personal Magic 8 Ball that tells me keep going, there’s something here. Of course, it’s entirely possible I’m looking for excuses to keep seeing him because he makes me feel shivery inside and out. I’m just not sure.
But those maybe-nudges from the big guy upstairs reminded me of one thing. Life does move fast. People and opportunities can be snatched away in the space of a heartbeat. Just like Sean. I’m going to do some living for us both while I’m here, the way I’ve been pining to do in the years since he’s been gone. I need to keep my head around Jack, though. There won’t be any fanciful notions that he’s a permanent part of the adventure. I’ve got too much at stake professionally to throw it all away on someone who must go through women like Quality Street chocolates on Christmas Day.
There’s footsteps to my right and they cut through every other sound. There he is. Turning the heads of a twosome of female joggers, swaggering a path through the moonlight. He’s wearing a bomber jacket and faded jeans, a here-comes-trouble smile playing around the corner of his lips and God, I can’t help but sigh. What a beautiful creature. I’m not a badge bunny by any stretch of the imagination, but I can only imagine the droves of women that will faint at the sight of him in uniform someday. When Jack gets close, it takes loads of willpower not to shoot up from my perch on the stone fountain, just so I won’t be at a disadvantage sitting down, while he stands. I’m already on the defensive from his charm, giving him an extra two feet of height just seems unwise, but I manage to lean away and remain seated.
“Snaps.” He runs a hand over his scalp. “You look more fucking adorable every time I see you. You know that?”
Wings flutter in my chest, but I attempt to hide my reaction by replacing the camera in my backpack. “That’s hardly the proper way to speak to your instructor.”
One edge of his mouth jumps. “Out here, we’re just Jack and Katie, no?”
“Did you forget about our deal this afternoon?”
He sits down beside me on the fountain edge, his face easing within a couple of inches of mine. Close enough that I hold my breath. “Honey, if I was making a move, you’d know it.”
“Right.” I scoot away, frowning at him when he laughs, low and raspy. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”
It catches him off guard, his cocky smile slipping. “Really?”
Sexually confident Jack is dangerous. Sexually confident Jack with flashes of self-consciousness? Those glimpses set off doom singing in my ears. “Yeah,” I say, refusing to be anything but honest. “It’s one thing to picture myself dancing in a fountain and quite another to actually do it. There’s way too many people about for this time of night. Doesn’t this city ever sleep?”
He laughs warmly at my lame-o joke. “What’s the main problem?”
“I’m not sure.” Rubbing my lips together, I turn and survey the fountain over one shoulder. “Maybe I expected music?”
“I knew it. This is because of the opening credits from Friends.”
I cover my face with both hands. “Do you think it’s silly? I know the gang didn’t actually dance in this fountain. They probably replicated it on a television studio lot somewhere in Los Angeles.” He stays silent, but I don’t detect any judgment on his face. Only curiosity. “It’s just . . . those Friends reruns were with me during my training for Rio. All the injuries and bad days and arguments with my coach. Every time I heard that theme song, I knew I could just disappear into a happy place for half an hour.”
Jack nods and stares off across the paved courtyard
surrounding the fountain. “Thought you’d be more of a SVU girl with your mob hits fascination.”
“I like that one, too. But Benson and Stabler didn’t have a fountain.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners, as if he’s laughing, but there’s something else going on in his expression. Like having a conversation isn’t entirely within his comfort zone and he’s nervous about what to say next. “Training sounds like it was pretty rough.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “It was.”
He cuts me a sideways look, half of his face covered in shadows. “Tell me about it?”
There’s been a lot of interviews in the year since Rio, mostly from news stations and magazines back home, so I have my patented answers. Yes, the work is grueling, but at the end of the day, it’s worth the pain so I can represent my country. Yes, my brother’s death inspired me to work hard in his honor. All true—so very true—but those words only scratch the surface.
“My da was my coach,” I start, feeling the wind pick up around me, lifting the hair off my neck. “We’d always had hopes that I could go on to the Olympics, but shooting was more for fun when I was a teenager. Something we bonded over.” I curl my fingers around the hard stone lip of the fountain. “When my brother died five years ago, my father . . . he couldn’t handle the loss and—”
“Jesus, Katie. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s okay. Really.” I smile at him, hoping to erase his stricken expression, but it feels stiff. “My father needed somewhere to throw all his focus and it turned out to be me. My career. The Olympics. He was obsessed with me winning and . . .” My breath slides out little by little. “I didn’t have the heart to take away what he needed. Even when it stopped being even a little bit fun, you know? We never did anything but train. Morning, afternoon and night. But I was the only child now, so I was trying to fill that space my brother left behind, as well as my own.”
