“No, I’ve got everything in my locker. I’ll yell if I need you.”
He motions with his head for me to follow him before going through a door in the back of the room that has a sign reading ‘Range’ above it.
I follow him out back to his locker, which is basically a giant metal trunk. He unlocks the padlock on it and lifts the lid, showcasing enough guns to equip a small army, I’m sure. “We’ll start you with something small since, you know, you’re small, and see how you get on.”
“Sure thing.” I smirk at him, letting him go through the motions, taking the ear muffs when he hands them over before leading me to the very empty shooting range.
He walks me through my stance and how to hold the gun he hands me. I have to admit, Lincoln is a very good teacher. He has more patience than I’d have expected. I follow his instruction without question, and as he wraps his arms around me to help me bring the gun level with the target, I almost hold my breath. “Relax, aim, and shoot.”
He releases me, but my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I shake my head, trying to shake off the feeling, and pull the trigger, the kickback reverberating up my arms.
“Good,” is all he says before moving to the target beside me. He moves into position and empties the clip of his gun into the target.
“Show off.” I grin as he turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised.
“You’ll get there.”
I laugh. “Oh I know.” I raise my arm at my target, gun in hand, while keeping my eyes locked on his before letting off three rounds.
His eyes go wide as he takes in the target, and I bark out a laugh. Turning to my paper target, I grin. Apparently I haven’t gone rusty.
Head.
Chest.
Dick.
Just like Dad taught me.
* * *
“Thank God this semester is over! You have much planned for Christmas?” Indi asks as we head out of school. The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been a whirlwind of exams, handing in papers, and trying like fuck to catch up with all the work I had fallen behind on. I think I might have just got everything done by the skin of my teeth.
The sub in place of Mr. Peters in Business even offered me a make-up paper for what I missed at the beginning of the year. Things might finally be looking up for me. Especially if Mr. Peters’ sudden trip away stays permanent.
“No, we’re keeping it low key this year,” I tell her with a smile as we reach my Impala. I open the trunk and grab the gift bag I stored there. “But this, my friend, is for you. Merry Christmas.”
She grins wide as she takes the bag, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “You totally didn’t have to, but thank you! I’d rip it open right now if I didn’t think my mom would withhold Christmas dinner for breaking tradition.”
“As she should.” I laugh. “It’s not Christmas for three more days.”
“But I love gifts. Speaking of…” She pauses before bounding to her Wrangler and opening the back door. “This is for you.”
She almost falls over as she pulls a giant-ass box from the back, decorated with ribbons, bows, and so much more. I rush over to give her a hand, wondering how the hell she got it in her car. “What on earth is in there?”
I lean back and open the passenger door to the Impala and help her slide the box in. “You’ll find out Christmas morning,” she says, sticking her tongue out. I close the door and she hugs me tight. “We’re hanging out on New Year’s, right?”
“You know it.” I grin at her and wave before climbing in the car. The last few weeks have been quiet. Too quiet. And I still haven’t seen Raleigh. The school isn’t that big, so I have no idea how. I almost want to just get it out of the way, but since school is done for two weeks now, I don’t have to worry about it too much.
I start up the car, hooking my phone up and playing Prom Queen by Molly Kate Kestner, my latest song obsession. Just as I go to buckle up, I see Finley jogging toward my car.
Since the shooting range, those three have been strangely MIA, too. In fact, other than for gym, I’ve barely seen East either.
Of course, the second I start to accept that we might be becoming friends, that this whole Knight thing is real and I might want some more answers, they all pretty much drop off the face of the Earth. I’ve gone from not being able to get rid of them when I didn’t want to see them, to them never being around. Finley didn’t even respond to the text I sent him.
Weird as fuck, but I’m not sure why I expected anything different. These guys are never what I expect.
I roll down the window and Finley leans forward, his arms on top of the car. “I was hoping I’d catch you.”