by Rebel Hart
19
Quinn
I couldn’t get my smile off my face as I walked into MontRec. Things were already bustling, and everyone was well into the morning programming when I fumbled through the front doors. Instead of finding the receptionist, who was normally sitting at the front desk, I saw my boss, Christine. Thank god my alarm went off that morning. Otherwise, I would probably still be curled up against Zeke. I managed to get a text out to her, asking if she could fill in for me for a few hours and saying I would explain when I got in. I very rarely missed work for any reason, so she was willing to help. When I approached her at the desk, where she’d opted to sit on the desk itself rather than behind it, I groaned at her.
“Thanks for coming in on such short notice. I’m embarrassed to admit that I got a little drunk after my loss last night. I appreciate it.”
Her light brown eyes looked me down and back up, and then took another pass down and back up. When she locked eyes with me, she grinned broadly. “A little drunk, and it looks like a little laid, too.”
My cheeks instantly started to burn. “Shh, oh my god. How do you know that?”
She laughed. “You’re wearing it! This stupid grin, your glow—he must have been good.”
I motioned her with a hand back toward my office, and she immediately hopped off the desk and followed me back. We walked in, and I closed my door behind her. “Okay, yes. I ended up getting a drink with this guy I’ve been…seeing? But, like, just seeing, with my eyeholes. He keeps showing up, and I see him.”
She clapped her hands with a giggle. “And here I thought the only thing you could be attached to was football.”
I walked over to my desk, and my backpack was sitting in my chair. On top of it was a post-it note with a winking smiley face on it, signed with a simple, “—C3.” I moved it onto the floor and sunk into it myself. I looked over at Christine. “You’re not the first person who has said that about me.”
She crossed her arms. “Well? I came all the way here for you, so I at least deserve some details.”
Christine was the owner of MontRec’s daughter. She was technically in the hierarchy between him and me, but she was mostly hands-off. We were fairly close in age, though she had about four years on me, so it shouldn’t shock me that she would take a bit of juicy gossip in exchange for waking up at seven in the morning on a day she wasn’t planning to.
“Unfortunately, I don’t remember much.” I frowned, disappointed that I couldn’t. “What I can remember, though…” I started, and my frown turned into a smile. “Oh my god.”
She squealed. “So, when are you going out again? Hopefully, you will drink less.”
I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know. He said, ‘See you soon,’ when he left, but I don’t know that he’s actually into me like that. Really, until about a week ago, you couldn’t have convinced me that I didn’t hate him. We have more in common than I thought. He interfered so that I wouldn’t kill Lila yesterday, so I guess he cares a little, at least.”
“That girl is crazy,” Christine replied. She didn’t have much to do with MontRec, but her dad forced her to be involved with the establishment of the football team as a larger facet of MontRec’s programming. She’d met all of the girls on the team a handful of times and had seen a few games.
“She’s not,” I responded. “Yesterday, she was acting really weird, though. Something was up. I just wish I knew what. Anyway, I’m sure this guy will think about it more and think it was just a drunken mistake.”
She poked out her bottom lip. “I hope not.”
“Knock, knock.” I looked around Christine, and none other than Wright Johnson was standing in the frame of my office door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all, come in.” I waved him in, and Christine stood to one side as he slid in. “Mr. Johnson, this is my boss, Christine. Christine, this is the commissioner of the Idaho Athletic Board, Wright Johnson. He’s overseeing our application for semi-pro status.” I bowed my head. “And probably here to yell at me for Lila’s performance yesterday.”
He laughed, and his eyes lit up. “Yell at you? Why would I do that? Lila’s trending on Twitter! I sold two hundred tickets to your final showdown against the Vipers in one hour this morning.”
Wright’s penchant for popularity and sales made me more than a little uncomfortable. I didn’t like that he seemed okay with the sacrifice Lila had forced on us simply because it got him more views on a social media platform. “With all due respect, sir, that’s not the kind of team I want to run.”
Wright crossed his arms. “Trust me when I say this, Quinn. No publicity is bad publicity. You want my advice? Continue letting Lila run rampant out there. The more people that see the show, the more clout your team will gain.”
“That doesn’t sound like clout. It sounds like negative energy,” Christine responded, and she got a smile from Wright that had nothing but malice behind the eyes.
“This is my business, dear. Believe me on this one.”
Christine looked over at me, and I mouthed, “Sorry,” before I turned back to Wright. “Um, Mr. Johnson, if you’re not here for that, why are you here?”
“I actually was here for that. I wanted to let you know that Lila’s display was huge for your team’s presence on the internet. I think we’ll live stream your next qualifier match.” He closed his eyes in satisfaction. “If we monetize the stream and allow ads, the revenue will be insane.”
I liked that our games hadn’t been televised up to that point. I was nervous enough that the Vipers game was going to be live. “I don’t know about that.”
Wright looked at me, now giving me his evil gaze masked behind a toothy grin. “Quinn, you can leave all of this stuff up to me. Don’t worry yourself with it. You just worry about getting out there and winning that next game. One more loss, and your journey ends. Do it for the fans!”
I’d been trying to put that thought out of my mind. Four out of five games was an uphill battle as it was, but I was hoping not to have to legitimately try to win against the Vipers. If we could have gotten more teams to agree to play us for semi-pro status, it wouldn’t have been so difficult, but we’re mid-season and just a little podunk team from Idaho. Not many people were willing to help out. Thanks to Lila’s actions, we had to win our next three games in a row, including the one against the Vipers. I’d be lying if I said those odds didn’t make me more than a little nervous.
“Whoa. Lots of people in here.”
All of our eyes shot over to the door, and my heart did a backflip. Zeke was standing there with a glass vase in his hand. The contents looked like flowers, but upon closer inspection, were actually tiny foam footballs on sticks, black finger tape spun to look like roses, and a few sprigs of lavender, which any athlete worth their salt could use for muscle treatments. There were small vials of greasepaint gathered around the bottom like rocks, and there was a red bow tied around the vase— black and red, the Widows colors.
“Hi,” I greeted.
He smiled at me. “Hi, yourself.”
Christine looked over at me, eyes wide. “Oh.”
I giggled and gave her a tiny shrug. She turned her back entirely and pulled her hands up to do a quiet clap and then turned back around. She said, “You’re right. It’s getting a little crowded in here, so I’ll go. Quinn, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. Thanks for this morning,” I said.
Christine winked at me before sliding past Zeke out the door. She looked down in the direction of his ass and then held out a thumbs-up before scuttling out of sight.
“Zeke,” Wright announced. He eyed the vase of flowers and then looked over at me before his ever-present smile started to fade. “What are you doing here?”
“You know what they say, sir. If you can’t beat ‘em”—Zeke looked over at me with a warm smile—“join ‘em.”
Wright was quiet for a long time after that. He kept looking at me, then back at Zeke, then at me, then ba
ck at Zeke, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He almost seemed annoyed, but I couldn’t figure out what about Zeke’s being there would bring him any kind of strife. I had experienced the odd commissioner enough to know better than to interrupt his thoughts. It seemed Zeke had a similar knowledge because he stood there in silence, as well.
Finally, Wright looked over at me, turning his back to Zeke. “Well, I suppose I’ll take my leave. Give the cameras a good show next week.” When he turned to leave, he shoved past Zeke without any form of manners. “See you around, Matheson.”
Zeke watched him go and then turned back to me. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know. He said he loved the way Lila acted because she’s trending, and now he wants to live stream our next game.” I leaned my head back against my chair and closed my eyes. “I don’t know what to do now. If I whip her into shape, he could get upset, but if she acts like that again and we lose our next game, we’re done.”
I didn’t hear Zeke move, but suddenly, there was a pair of soft lips against mine. I reached out, and my hands found Zeke’s sides. I pulled some, and his hands combed into my hair. All of the tension I’d been feeling moments ago faded away while Zeke’s hands fled my hair and came to rest on either side of my neck. When he finally pulled away and I opened my eyes, he smiled down at me, and my whole body shuddered. He had to have a superpower. That was the only explanation for the way he made me feel when I wouldn’t have minded hitting him with a car not that long ago.
“Don’t play your game to please Wright,” he said after a while. “Play your game how you would play it, and everything will be fine.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He grabbed the vase from my desk and handed it to me. “For you.”
I took it from him and pretended to smell them. The strong, unmistakable scent of greasepaint intermingled with the lavender was an oddly pleasing smell. I couldn’t believe how thoughtful the fake flowers were. They were perfect for an athlete while still getting the point across that roses usually communicated.
“I love them. Thank you.” I set them back on the desk and put my hands on his sides again, and he immediately leaned down to kiss me once more.
If I wasn’t careful, I would throw everything away for more opportunities to kiss Zeke. Having his lips on mine gave me the same rush of adrenaline that walking out onto the field at the beginning of a game did. All the anticipation and excitement, a hint of nerves, and tons of passion and determination. Zeke brought things out of me that I didn’t realize I’d buried. It was, at the same time, terrifying and exhilarating.
“I meant it, you know,” he started. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. If you would let me, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.” He snickered. “One we’ll both remember the next day.”
The joy I felt when he said it was overwhelming. “I’d love to.”
20
Zeke
The following Sunday was Quinn and my next shared day off, so we picked that day for our date. I hated how nervous I was. I’d taken women out before, even if dating wasn’t something I cared much about before. I wasn’t an animal who would just sleep with women for the hell of it. When I need to satisfy certain urges, I would take them out first, at least, even if they were well aware of what the end goal was. Those never made me nervous, maybe because it was just a means to an end. Things with Quinn were very different. I wanted this to work. I wanted this to be the first of many dates.
I told her to dress comfortably, which she did, but her gray leggings, gray and yellow Nikes, and yellow and gray long-sleeve compression shirt were still very fashionable, and I thanked all the gods for the way it clung to her curves. She had braided her hair, to the left so that it hung over her shoulder, and though I’d seen her plenty of times without makeup and still found her stunning, she now had on a full face that accentuated her eyes and made her face shine in the late morning sun.
“You look amazing,” I told her when she walked out of her apartment complex.
“You too.” She skipped down the sidewalk, and when she got to me, I held out an arm. She pulled against me without hesitation, taking my face in her hands and giving me a kiss. She pulled away and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we supposed to kiss at the end of the date?”
“I think it’s clear we’re both rather unorthodox people, Quinn,” I responded, and she chuckled. I helped her into the passenger’s side of my car, went around to get into the driver’s side myself, and then we were off.
We had to drive almost all the way back to Pocatello for the date I had planned, but I knew it would be worth it. I parked in the lot of a run-down looking warehouse and climbed out of the car. I walked around the car and opened the door for Quinn, and she stepped out. She looked around the lot and then over at the building and raised her eyebrows at me.
“Are you going to kill me here?” she asked.
I kissed her cheek. “Funny. Trust me, you’ll like this.”
I took her by the hand and led her over to the front doors of the warehouse and pulled them open. She walked through, and I followed closely behind her into the much more alive and bustling interior. Directly across from the front doors was a reception desk with a few different people standing at it, and hanging on the wall behind them was a scoreboard. To the left was a small store, with different pieces of merchandise hanging on a chain-link fence above the salesperson, and to the right was a small seating area with coffee, water, and a juice bar. People were flowing freely between all of the stations, and some of them were standing in pairs at one of the sets of double doors to the left and right of the reception desk, above which were marquees reading, “Wait, sweep in session.”
Quinn looked around and then started to smile. “Is this a paintball arena?”
I grinned at her. “Ready to murk some citizens?”
She clapped and started to bounce excitedly in place. “Oh my god, I’m so ready.”
We walked up to the reception desk, and one of the employees looked up at me. “Hello, welcome to High Noon Paintball. Do you have a reservation?”
“I do, under Zeke Matheson,” I replied.
She smiled. “Of course! We’ve been expecting you.” She typed a few things on the computer in front of her, and a small printer to her left fed out a green piece of paper. She ripped the paper in half and handed one half to me and one half to Quinn. She motioned to her left, our right. “You two will go and stand at the set of doors over here, and one of our field agents will come and collect you. Your enemies have already arrived.”
Quinn let out a quiet rumble of excitement, and I was happy that I’d guessed right on something she would really enjoy.
“Thank you,” I said to the receptionist, and then we walked over and took our place at the door.
A few moments later, a guy dressed in full combat gear opened the door and pointed at me. “You Zeke?”
I nodded. “I am.”
“Well, get in here already. The enemy is on the front lines. We’ve got work to do.”
I held my arm out, and Quinn walked past me. I followed behind her. The man in the combat gear worked to get us dressed in all the necessary protective gear and outfitted us with a couple of paintball guns. He explained all the rules of the arena to us in the form of a mission and then brought us out of a door that had us back outside, though still contained within a chain-link cage. He pointed to our right, and there was another pair of people, a taller man with long black hair and a woman of average height with a black pixie-cut hairstyle and brilliant golden eyes, staring right back at us.
“The enemy has been identified. It’s kill, or be killed, folks.” The man in combat gear pointed at the door. “We were able to buy you a few minutes, but now we’re out of time. The second you hear a buzzer, that door’s gonna open, and you’re on your own. Make it to the other side before the enemy to retrieve the drop, and make sure to hit any targets you see. Our soldiers are counting on you. Good luck.” He sa
luted us and then disappeared back behind the door.
Quinn shook her head, still managing to look sexy even with a giant helmet on her head and black pads covering her from head to toe. “This is amazing,” she yelled.
A loud buzzer screamed out, and the door to the cage flew open. Quinn immediately pulled her gun up to shoot and started out of the cage. The other team must have had the same idea in mind because the second they left the cage, they turned on us and started to fire. The bearable sting of paintballs hitting my armor sprang me to life, and Quinn and I fired back. Finally, Quinn screamed, “Go!” and we both ran off down the path.
The course was a winding path of obstacles and moving targets that sometimes appeared by surprise. Despite that the goal was to hit as many targets as possible and get to the end of the course before the other team, points could also be scored for striking the other team’s armor, especially in specific, marked places. As a result, there were several barriers, nooks, and crannies sprinkled throughout the course where someone could hide, both from being shot or to get the jump on someone. Within a matter of minutes, Quinn and I had settled into a groove. She would defend me against the other team while I kept my eye out for targets. Our opponents noticed our tactics and copied them, with the guy keeping his gun at the ready to fire at Quinn when necessary while the woman fired at any targets she could see.
Near the bottom of the course, different pieces of our armor started to light up and vibrate, and if you could land a shot in one of the highlighted areas, tons of extra points could be scored. I got a little distracted while watching Quinn impressively snag the guy in the glowing parts of his armor, almost like she was a trained assassin, and I took whatever chances I had between targets to fire on the girl, as well. Finally, the two paths we were on converged into a single one, and it was open season. There were obstacles to hide behind, but they did little to protect someone if the opponent wanted to run around them. Quinn’s entire armor lit up, a sign that she was currently the high score holder, and the guy and girl turned on her and started to fire. I dropped my gun and bolted over and stood between them and her, letting their flurry of paintballs smack into me at rapid speed. I let out a comedically loud scream and dropped to my knees.