Chapter 15 #2
The EBM guys quickly realize they're outmatched, not in numbers but in sheer determination. The sorority sisters prove to be ruthlessly accurate, and our frat brothers show no mercy.
James and I work our way around the right edge of the arena, systematically taking out EBM brothers who try to establish positions. We don't need to speak much; a glance or a nod is enough to coordinate our movements.
"Three at two o'clock,"
"I see them. On three?"
"One, two—"
We pop up simultaneously, pelting the approaching EBM guys with rapid-fire snowballs until they retreat, cursing.
"We make a good team," James says as we duck back down, breathing hard.
"Yeah." I’m no longer surprised at how right it feels. "We do." "
James looks different right now, flushed with exertion, eyes bright with competitive fire, snowflakes melting in his dark hair. The perpetually grumpy webmaster has been replaced by someone playful, athletic, and...frankly, hot as hell.
When he notices me staring, I quickly look away, focusing on packing another snowball. From the corner of my eye, I see the way he is looking at my hands, and how his eyes are moving up my arms to my shoulders.
A shout from across the arena pulls us back to reality.
"Push forward!" Drew calls. "They're retreating!"
Sure enough, the EBM brothers are falling back, several of them already soaked and miserable. Chad is nowhere to be seen, presumably taken out earlier.
“Shall we?" James asks, nodding toward a forward barricade.
“After you.”
We sprint forward together, diving behind the new cover as a volley of snowballs flies overhead. The space behind this barricade is smaller, forcing us to press close together. Heat’s radiating off James despite the cold snow surrounding us.
"Four left," he reports, peering quickly over the edge. "Two directly ahead, two trying to circle behind."
"I'll take the two in front if you want to handle the flankers."
"Deal."
We rise together, launching our attacks with precision and accuracy. I hit both targets clean in the chest, while James manages to catch both of the circlers. A surprise one, however, gets off a lucky shot that catches James in the shoulder, sending him tumbling back down behind our barricade.
I drop down beside him. "You okay?"
"Fine," he grunts, brushing snow from his jacket. "Just wounded pride."
We huddle for a moment, catching our breath. The sounds of battle continue around us, but it’s strangely quiet in our little snow fortress. James is so close I can see individual snowflakes melting on his eyelashes.
"You've got—" he starts, then reaches up to brush snow from my hair. His hand lingers, just for a second, there’s a zing between us.
I don't know who moves first.
One second we're looking at each other, breathing hard, and the next his lips are on mine, or mine are on his, in a soft, careful touch. We pull back enough to see each other's faces, and a tiny moment of doubt hangs between us.
Oh shit, what’s happening? Don’t care, just gonna go for it.
Then James's hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me in again, and there's nothing gentle about this kiss. It's heat and hunger and the explosion of tension that's been building since when? That first fake date? The political fundraiser? The Christmas tree farm?
My hands find their way inside his jacket, and the warmth of him through his sweater is perfect. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open mine instantly.
James tastes like winter, like cinnamon and cold air, and I want more. My fingers move up to tangle in his hair, still damp with melted snow, as he shifts to press me against the barricade.
The world narrows to just this: James's mouth on mine, his hands gripping my waist, the contrast between the cold snow at my back and the heat between us.
I'm dimly aware that we're in public, that we should stop, but I can't bring myself to care.
Not when James is making that soft sound in the back of his throat as I nip at his bottom lip.
"Well, well, well," comes Gavin's amused voice from above. "I found our missing right flank."
We break apart so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. Gavin stands looking down at us, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face as he takes in our flushed faces and dishevelled appearance.
"I, uh—we were just—" James starts, his usual eloquence nowhere to be found.
"Taking cover?" Gavin suggests innocently. "Very thorough cover, from what I can see."
I want to sink into the snow and disappear forever.
"Anyway," Gavin continues cheerfully, "I thought you'd want to know we beat their asses. Those EBM fucks are all soaked and heading out with their tails between their legs." He wiggles his eyebrows. "We're all going to the campus pub to celebrate. You wanna come? Unless you're too busy, of course."
"We'll be right there," James says with as much dignity as anyone could muster while sitting in the snow with swollen lips and messed-up hair.
"Take your time," Gavin winks and walks away, already shouting to the others. "Hey guys! We WON! Those chuckle-fucks are GONE!"
James and I avoid looking at each other as we awkwardly get to our feet. I'm acutely aware that I need to adjust myself before standing fully upright, and from the way James tugs his jacket down, he's in a similar predicament.
"So..." My question finally breaks the silence. I risk a glance at him.
"Yeah," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was..."
"Yeah."
A million questions swirl in my mind. Is this still pretend? Was it ever? What happens now? But all I can do is smile awkwardly as I carefully fix my jeans.
James smiles back just as awkwardly as I do. We don't need words to agree that right now, surrounded by celebrating fraternity brothers and sorority sisters, isn't the time to figure out what happened.
We make our way back to the group, carefully maintaining a respectable distance between us. Emily is sitting on Drew's shoulders, declaring herself the "Snow Queen of Arena 3," while the Theta Pi Nu sisters and our frat brothers exchange high fives and brag about their best shots.
"And then James nailed that guy right in the face!" Tyler is saying. "It was beautiful!"
"The snowball fight was incredible," Marcos agrees. "Best stress relief before finals week."
James's eye catches mine at that, and heat floods my cheeks as he looks away quickly.
Stress relief. Right. I wish.
As we all head toward the campus pub, I walk beside James but can't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound loaded with subtext.
"Thanks for having my back" sounds like innuendo. "We work well together" sounds like I'm proposing. "That was intense.” Hell no. "My dorm or yours?" Absolutely not, brain, stop it. Even "Cold out" would probably come across as a desperate attempt to discuss body heat.
Gavin keeps shooting us knowing looks, but thankfully stays silent about what he witnessed. Small mercies.
"Hey," the word comes out quietly as we approach the pub; my voice is finally working again. "There's another fundraiser next weekend. For my father's campaign." My throat is tight, and swallowing is hard. "Would you...if you're not too busy with finals..."
"Yes," James says simply. "I'll go."
Our eyes meet, and I know we both get it; whatever's happening between us, whatever started behind that snow wall, it's definitely real now.
And that's terrifying. And exhilarating. And complicated as hell.
But for now, surrounded by our friends celebrating a silly win in an indoor snowball fight, all I can think about is how James's lips felt on mine and what might happen next.
What do I want to happen next?
Which is a problem, considering I have no idea what James wants. Or if that kiss meant anything to him beyond adrenaline and proximity.
Please let there be a next.