Once we’re ready, we follow Clara into the tunnels under the U, likely empty as it’s still winter break. We’re not students here anymore, and it seems like a good ending to our time here. It’s also a way to erase the horrible memories Trips and I have of this place.
“How much of a head start are you getting?” Jansen asks as he jumps and stretches, warming up, ready to play, his eyes glinting with a wildness that’s been missing for a while.
“Thirty seconds,” Trips announces, and none of us has any reason to contradict him. She can run circles around us, so we don’t want her to get too far ahead. Although itisfour against one. And really, no matter what, she’s going to win.
We all are.
“Drop a pin so you can find the car again,” RJ tells us as he does something with his phone. He’s the only one who could probably keep up with her, so I don’t know why he’s so worried about her getting lost. Although I suppose Bryce is still on the loose. But it’s not like he’s going to come hunt her down in the tunnels. He’s more underhanded than that. Plus, none of us will be far away. With the added security of RJ’s tracking app, we should be fine.
I still drop the pin as instructed, Clara bouncing on her toes in front of us.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice already thready with excitement.
“Run,” Trips says, his voice lower than I’ve heard before, unexpected shivers rippling over me as Clara squeaks, turns, and sprints away from us.
Trips counts, loud, like it’s a game of hide and seek.
And I guess in a way, it is.
One where we all seek, and when we find, we take whatever she’s willing to offer.
Which, based on the rules, is pretty much anything, as long as we all stay mostly clothed and observe the ‘watermelon means stop’ rule.
It’s going to be one hell of a fun game.
Once Trips reaches zero, we take off down the tunnel as a pack.
But we chose our starting point strategically. Not too far down the path, it branches, one to each side and one straight ahead. Trips turns right, Jansen left, and after a second, I keep going straight, assuming she’s going to get as far awayas quickly as possible, only turning once she knows she’s out of range of our ears. RJ stays behind us all, not dashing ahead like I know he can, and I wonder what his plan is. He trails me down the center path, the bright electric lights and the echo of our footsteps nearly bringing me back to a similar run a year ago. The excitement replaces the terror, though, and fuck, is that a good thing.
The path bends, and I follow it, but in the distance a flash of red vanishes around another corner.
I’m one lucky bastard. I round that corner and end up in a different parking garage. Of all of us, I know these tunnels best, and I know there are two exits from here—one to the theater and one to yet another parking garage. I pause, listening, and I don’t hear the clatter of heels on concrete. So, to the theater I go.
I take off for that tunnel, RJ dropping back, but still following me. I glance at him, a question in my gaze, but he just smirks and pockets his phone.
The fucker is cheating.
But he’s not taking the prize.
It clicks after a moment. With what RJ’s into, there’d be no reason for him to rush ahead. Clara said this was a gift for him, and he wouldn’t care about a hunt. But he would lovewatchingus hunt Clara.
Fuck. This girl knows us better than we know ourselves.
I barrel into the basement of the theater, a flash of red closer than earlier. Those heels were a handicap we all needed.
With a burst of speed, I dash after her, and there she is, not ten feet in front of me, jogging, a soft jingle of jewels tinkling through the halls like fairy music.
I snatch her by the waist and spin her, pinning her back to the wall with my hips, her startled yelp soaked with anticipation. I get her wrists pinned before she throws me off, and then I’m cursing my damn mask for not letting me kiss her. But desperation is the mother of invention, or something like that, so I grind against her, reveling in her whimper, before I say what I’m thinking.
“Caught you.” I wait, watching her, making sure she’s as fine with this as she says she is. Her hips rock against me, her painted lips open, quick breaths escaping her. But I give her a chance to say her safeword.
“Walker?” she asks, her movement stalling for a moment, her eyes asking why I’ve stopped.
No safeword. No fear from her. Only the desire reverberating between us.
“Kiss me.”
Her lips meet the side of mine that are available, her little pants making me harder than I think I’ve ever been. I switch my hold of her wrists to my left hand, and ruck up her skirts with my other one, pushing the strange swimsuit bottom that’s part of this dress aside, dancing my fingers over her damp flesh. Damn.
