Bitch

He was hunting me.

I could sense him nearby. There was no sound; every footstep muffled expertly, barely a whisper against the hard ground. There was nothing to see; the darkness was thick and the fog thicker, so heavy that even my shallow breathing disturbed it. Even still, my eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign of him.

He was the cat, toying with me, teasing me, stalking me. I had no choice but to huddle in the corner, quiet as the mouse he thought I was, waiting for his inevitable discovery.

It was only a stroke of luck that tipped me off; the slightest stumble just to my left. I reacted instantly, darting out from the alcove I’d tucked myself into. He raised the gun as I flew past him, shooting wildly, the brief flashes of light illuminating the grin on his face.

“Get back here!” he hissed, all too aware of the fact that he might be overheard, but by the time he corrected his feet, I was already diving behind another wall.

Hunting turned to chasing; I had just enough time to reposition myself before he barrelled around the corner.

“Got you,” he said gleefully.

Before he could pull the trigger again, I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing that might save me from what felt like an inevitable demise: I grabbed the front of his vest and pulled. The sudden movement threw him off and he stumbled.

“Wha—” he gasped.

The look of surprise on his face was the last thing I saw before I cut him off, pressing his mouth against mine eagerly. I felt him inhale sharply as our lips touched, a single moment of stiff tension jolting through him before he relaxed, just slightly, just enough to brush his fingers against the birthmark on the side of my neck.

It was a good kiss, I had to give myself credit for that. It was heated and earnest and I felt it, every single bit of it shiver through my entire body. It surprised me, almost, the way that kiss jolted through me. With anyone else, I might have melted against his body, wrapped my arms around him and urged him on until I could wrap my legs around him, too.

But that wasn’t what I was there for.

I slipped my tongue into his mouth; he groaned softly, just distracted enough to not notice me move my torso away from his. Still kissing him, I raised my gun and pressed it to the target on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his lips.

His eyes flew open and he jerked away, but it was too late: I pulled the trigger.

There was a single beat; a clear moment of silence where betrayal filled his eyes and I felt guilty, strangely guilty, almost embarrassed at my deceit.

“Seriously?” he asked, stepping back.

The target on his chest blinked, three sad mechanical notes playing as his gun went dead, and the lights flew on.

“That’s game!” someone called.

I looked up at Liam, biting my lip and trying not to smirk.

“Sorry,” I said.

His cheeks turned pink and he stepped back.

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Yeah, no, that was clever. Cunning, really.”

“Liam, I—”

“Technically against the rules though,” he said. “For the record, laser tag is supposed to be no contact.”

“You’re right. I’ll tell everyone I cheated by kissing you.”

“No!” Liam’s face went redder still. “You won. Fair and square.”

“It was just a kiss,” I said.

He shot me that bright smile of his, good-natured and casual. “Good game, Thalia. Really. You got me, but I’ll get you back.”

I grinned and punched him lightly on the arm. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, kid.”

“Kid? I’m six months older than you!”

“Oh, six whole months?”

He snickered. “Okay. Five months, three weeks, and four days. Five in a leap year.”

He slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the laser tag arena to our friends, half of whom were cheering and half of whom were groaning at the prospect of paying my team’s bar tab that night.