Adrenaline pulsed through her as she leaped out into the open. Sprinting towards him, she dropped and slid at an angle as if she were coming into home base.
She tagged both opponents before they could fire. Paint exploded in vibrant pink across their chest plates and helmets as she emptied her hopper. Splashes of brilliant blue followed half a second later.
Nikos had heard her warning and moved with fluid grace in an arc, diving for cover as he released his own volley of paint.
Silence fell.
Then Jose’s voice boomed through the arena speakers. “That’s it! Match over. Team Kiki wins!”
Kiki collapsed onto her back, breathing hard. The smell of sweat and paint filled her nose while adrenaline pulsed through her body.
Her head turned.
Nikos was lying a few feet away, where he had dropped and rolled. His head was angled toward her. Their helmets were still on, their face shields fogged, but she could feel his eyes.
Burning. Searing. Seeing.
Too much. He knows. He can sense it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She rolled to her feet with a silent curse, tugging at the chin strap until her helmet popped off. Her curls clung to her face, damp with sweat. Her heart was still hammering from more than just the match.
She’d made a mistake. A massive, tactical blunder.
She should’ve taken him to a bookstore. The planetarium. The damn zoo.
Not a battlefield.
She’d underestimated him, and it was going to cost her. He knew she wasn’t just some zealous paintball fanatic. Their moves had been too synced, too precise for a civilian. He would know.
Damn it!
She moved stiffly, unzipping her vest and pulling it over her head. The air was cooler in the prep room, but it did little to cut the heat in her chest. She tossed the gear onto the table for used equipment and grabbed her hoodie, yanking it over her tank top.
Behind her, Nikos entered. Quiet. Controlled.
She could feel his gaze on her like a live wire, running down her spine, igniting every nerve. She busied herself organizing her gear, pretending she didn’t feel his gaze tracking herevery move.
Watching.
Thinking.
Judging?
No, calculating. Analyzing her.
“I should have done more research,” she muttered under her breath. “Would’ve found out he was a freaking ex-commando instead of wasting time on his damn dating history.”
Her fingers fumbled with the elastic strap of her gloves. Her movements were jerky now. Too fast. Too clumsy.
She couldn’t look at him.
Because if she did, she might… crack.
And she didn’t crack.
Not for anyone. Not anymore.
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard footsteps hurrying towards them.
