I look down at Layla, but before I can say anything, she presses her mouth against mine, both hands wrapping around my neck. I’m stunned stupid for a second, but get my bearings and pull her closer. Her lips part, tongue sweeping past mine. She lets out a tiny whimper, barely a sound, but it turns me on. My fingers dig into her hips and she kisses me harder.
Sam clears his throat and I swear I could kill him. Layla’s lips leave mine, but I don’t let her go. She spins in my arms, resting her head against my chest and says, “Hey, Sam,” like nothing ever happened.
Josh doesn’t seem interested in shooting anymore, not since I kissed him. I don’t know why I did it, I’ve never been forward like that. But when I saw him shoot, that ball of nerves I’ve been wrestling with since last night unraveled.
My lips tingled, desperate to know what his felt like, and I gave in. I don’t know what I expected to happen by kissing Josh. I’ve kissed Ashley, my ex-boyfriend, dozens of times, with and without tongue, and it’s always felt the same. Empty. My mind would wander, counting down the seconds until it was over.
With Josh, I felt everything. Every hair on my body standing on edge. Every butterfly dancing in my stomach. Every electrical surge my brain sent coursing through my body. I felt it all and it was better than any drug I’ve tried—which hasn’t been a lot—but still. Worse yet, I felt it stop the moment his lips left mine.
Sam holds the shotgun out to Josh, silently suggesting it’s his turn, but Josh shakes his head and nuzzles into my neck, lips nipping at my ear. “I’m good.”
I shudder, closing my eyes to enjoy the roller coaster inside me. Had I known that kissing Josh would feel this good, I would have done it last March, before I left, and returned his calls. Instead, I dodged the man because he makes my heart race in a way that doesn’t feel natural.
Sam finishes resetting the targets for another round, then extends the rifle. This time Josh takes it, pulling his body from mine. As much as I crave to be in his arms again, I’m excited to watch Josh shoot. Only he turns to me, excitement in his eyes, and says, “Your turn.”
My jaw goes slack. He’s joking. There’s no way Josh expects me to shoot and hit something on purpose. I shake my head, holding my hands up in protest. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.”
Josh opens his mouth to argue, but changes his mind. Without warning, he crouches down and takes me by the legs, flipping me over his shoulder. I scream in playful irritation, not expecting to be lifted off the ground.
My screams quickly turn to laughter as Josh carries me out into the field. He sets me back on my feet, one hand sliding up my thigh to my lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Josh remains still, devouring me with his eyes and I feel it again. That fire growing inside me.
“Any day now!” Sam shouts, breaking the trance we’re in.
Josh clears his throat and takes a step back. He walks to a black duffel bag resting on the ground and props the rifle on top of it. I watch, wordlessly, as he lies on his belly, then closes one eye to look through a small black cylinder on the top of the gun. Satisfied with what he sees, he turns his attention to me and pats the grass beside him. “Come on.”
On the outside, I’m walking over to him with confidence and grace. On the inside, my stomach is churning, my heart is racing, and the little voice in my head begs me not to get down on the ground. I don’t listen. I swallow that knot in my throat and lay on the prickly, half-dead grass.
“This rifle is a .308,” Josh says, his eyes flicking to the gun and then back to me. “It doesn’t have as much kick as a shotgun, but it can still leave a bruise if you’re not careful.”
“Great,” I mumble. I’ve never shot a Nerf gun, let alone something that uses real bullets. This is going to be a disaster.
“I want you to shoot this lying down so the duffle bag takes most of the shock.” Josh looks over his shoulder at my backside and grins. “Also, I don’t want you falling on your ass. That bit there...” he points to the black cylindrical piece on top of the gun. “You’re going to look through it. It’s called a scope. You need to line up the ‘T’ that you’ll see when you look through it with your target. That’s called the crosshairs. Once your target is in the center of the crosshairs, pull the trigger.”
“Got it.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it for a few heartbeats, hoping my nerves will settle, then let it out. My body quivers as I close one eye and look through the scope. Lining up one of the bottles in the crosshairs, I draw in a quick breath, then I pull the trigger.
The blast is louder up close than I expect. My ears ring and my shoulder throbs from the kick. I can’t imagine what it would have felt like standing up. If this one isn’t as bad as the shotgun, I never want to shoot that thing.
Josh moves the gun from the duffle bag to the ground beside him. I stick a finger in my ear and twist it. When I pull it out, the ringing is a million times better. I can actually hear again.
“Well.” Josh rubs the nape of his neck. “That’s one way to do it.”
I roll up onto my knees and brush the dirt off my thighs. “What do you mean?”
“You’d have a better chance of not missing the target if you keep your eyes open,” he says through a chuckle.
I missed? The bottle was lined up. I should have hit it.
Josh stands then extends a hand to help me to my feet. My legs are shaky. I’m not sure if it’s from how he makes me feel or from lying on the grass. “Want to shoot again?”
I shake my head. Hell no.
Josh rubs at the back of his neck then chuckles again. He takes a few steps then looks over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go check on the targets.”
“Uh…okay.”
Not sure what to do, but knowing that I don’t belong in the middle of the field, I turn and walk back towards the truck.