“Okay.” I licked my dry lips and took a quick breath to ready myself. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”
Exploding upward, I shot out from our hiding spot and sprinted across the floor. Someone, it sounded like Sofia, yelled to her teammates in warning. I kept moving, eyes on the prize. As I neared the base, I raised my blaster and took aim, but nothing happened when I fired.
Damn, not close enough.
I forced my legs to move faster. When I was roughly five feet away from the crumbling walls of the building, I pulled the trigger once more. This time, I didn’t miss.
Turning on my heels, I spun around and dashed back toward Xander. Just as I allowed myself to believe I might actually pull this off, Sofia stepped into my path, her blaster pointed straight at me. Without thinking, I dodged to the right and vaulted the cop car at full speed, landing butt first and sliding across the hood to the other side of the vehicle. As soon as my feet were firmly planted on the ground, Xander grabbed my hand, and we raced back through the maze of winding hallways.
“Faster,” he urged as we flew down a ramp and into a dark alleyway, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the walls. “She’s gaining on us.” Two seconds later, we spilled out of the narrow passage and onto a familiar road.
“There!” I jabbed a finger toward our base, where Boomer wassitting against the wall. His weapon lay discarded on the floor beside him, its lights extinguished. When he saw us coming, he scrambled to his feet.
“Watch out!” he shouted, pointing at someone behind us. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Alec targeting me with his blaster, brows furrowed in concentration. Before I could react, Xander shoved me out of the way and took the hit himself. His gun blinked three times and went dead, but his sacrifice gave me precisely enough time to zero in on our graffitied building and let off a final round.
And just like that, the game was over. Team LED-linquents had won.
Chapter 8
“That’s the saddest-looking dinner I’ve ever seen,” I said, eyeing Xander’s food as we claimed a spot at one of the laminated square tops in the café.
Following our win, Oliver immediately tried roping us into another game of capture the flag. Everyone agreed with the exception of me, Xander, and Alec. I wanted a break after playing for nearly an hour, so Xander suggested we grab something to eat, while Alec begged off in order to greet the rest of his guests.
“I don’t disagree.” He opened the single serving bag of Lay’s Classic potato chips, set it on the table, and pulled what looked like a plastic soap case out of his pocket. “Be right back. I have to wash my hands. Can you make sure no one touches these?”
“Sure thing,” I said as I arranged my own lunch in front of me. The world’s cheesiest nachos turned out to be a bag of stale tortilla chips and fake liquid cheese, but I didn’t discriminate against any form of my favorite dairy product, even the processed kind.
When Xander returned a few minutes later, I noticed how careful he was not to touch anything as he sat down. Maybe he was a germaphobe? If so, eating lunch at a laser tag arena probably wreaked havoc on his blood pressure. I wondered if he was grossed out thatI’d skipped a trip to the bathroom and opted for the hand sanitizer in my purse?
“I should have packed a lunch,” Xander said glumly as he stared into the bag.
“Not a fan of concession stand food?” I asked, rescuing a stray jalapeño from the nacho sauce before it sank to its cheesy depths.
He shook his head. “It’s not that. I can’t have anything they’re serving, and unfortunately, this was the only item in the vending machine I knew would be safe to eat.”
“You gluten free or something?”
“Or something.” He popped a chip in his mouth as he settled back into his chair. “Remember at Comic Con when I mentioned I have allergies? Well, that was a bit of an understatement. I could write a book on all the foods that would send me into anaphylactic shock, so I have to be super careful.”
“Like what?”
“Gluten, soy, shellfish. Any kind of nut. I also try to stay away from dairy and red meat, but that’s more of a food intolerance than an actual allergy.”
I froze, a nacho halfway to my mouth. “Jesus, whatcanyou eat?”
“Salad, baked potatoes, eggs, and green smoothies are my go-to. A bit of rice and lentils. Oh, and chicken. Lots and lots of chicken.”
“I wouldn’t survive,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously. You’d have to pry the pizza from my cold, dead hands.”
“My allergies started developing when I was a toddler, so I don’t know what pizza tastes like,” he admitted.
My mouth dropped open. This must have made himuncomfortable, because he ducked his head. A tangle of reddish gold bangs spilled forward, but he quickly finger combed them back into place. When he straightened up and his eyes met mine, I realized I was staring.
“That,” I said, forcing my gaze back to my food, “is a catastrophic crime.”
“Maybe, but it’s a life-saving one.”
“Death by pizza wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.”
