Chapter 11
Behind the closed bedroom door, Andy turned on his computer and waited for it to boot up so he could log in.
Yeah, he had two finals on Thursday and Friday, then four more crammed into next week, but he knew the material by heart for his first exams, so there was no need to study anymore tonight.
He would ace both, of that he had no doubt.
Once the computer was up and running, he clicked on the browser and headed for the hacker chat room. While he scrolled through the day’s posts and replies, his phone chimed with a text.
Hi Andy it’s Kelle V. I hope you don’t mind I got your number from TJ Holland
His heart pounded in his chest. He’d been tempted to ask Kelle for her number at the end of the study session but chickened out.
TJ was one of his best friends, but Andy had never told anyone about his crush on Kelle.
His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the phone and began to type, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
Hi Kelle it’s okay what’s up?
Hopefully that didn’t sound too excited or desperate. Yeah, he was overthinking this.
252-555-1845:
A few of us are going out after schl tmrrw Rocco’s Pizza wanna come with?
Holy shit. Was she asking him out? Nah, it was with a group of people. Right? Regardless, he wasn’t giving up the opportunity to hang out with her again and have a conversation that didn’t revolve around AP Chemistry.
Sure sounds like fun.
252-555-1845:
Gr8! CU tmrrw. GL on your exams!
TY U2!
252-555-1845:
Thx
“Yes!” Tomorrow was going to be freaking awesome.
He added Kelle to his contacts and put a heart emoji next to her name.
Forgetting all about the hacker chat room, he grabbed a pen and pad and tried to figure out some cool things he could say to her tomorrow, jotting down a few that came to mind.
Maybe, somehow, he’d find the courage to ask her out.
Gunfire echoed through the warehouse, deafening, each shot ricocheting off concrete and steel.
The air was thick with the smell of nitroglycerin, sawdust, and graphite.
Every breath was painfully sharp in his lungs as his heart pounded.
Brian crouched behind a stack of crates, weapon raised, trying to zero in on where the shooters were hidden.
Then it came.
A bullet tore past his ear with a high-pitched whiz, so close it seared the skin, before slamming into the crate inches from his head. Splinters burst across his cheek.
Whiz. Thud. Whiz. Thud. Each one louder, closer, until his ears rang and the stench of stale sweat mixed with gunpowder overwhelmed him. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t shout. His legs refused to work. His finger froze on the trigger.
You’re done.
The whisper came from behind him, low and certain. He spun, his heart lurching as a shot rang out, nearly bursting his eardrums.
But he wasn’t hit.
Oh, God!
Tess stood there, her eyes wide and pleading, hands reaching for him, though she seemed impossibly far away.
The dim warehouse light fractured around her, turning her edges hazy, unreal, as if she’d been pulled into the wrong place, the wrong world.
Panic etched across her face, her lips forming his name, but no sound came out.
Then a bloom of blood spread across her shirt, dark and vivid against the pale fabric, soaking in a jagged pattern, like tendrils that grew longer with every breath she didn’t take.
Brian tried to move toward her, but his boots were anchored to the concrete.
When he finally forced a step forward, the distance only stretched, each stride carrying him no closer.
Her gaze became barren even though it stayed locked on his.
She swayed, the crimson spreading faster, and then she began to fall.
“No!” The cry tore from his throat as he bolted awake, chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin.
The sheets were twisted tight around his legs.
His hand groped blindly toward the nightstand for his sidearm, but his fingers hit only his phone and alarm clock.
His gun was in the drawer, hidden from view but easily accessible if needed.
He sat there, gasping for air, trying to separate dream from reality. The warehouse was gone. No gunfire. No Tess bleeding out in front of him. Just the steady tick of the ceiling fan and the echo of his ragged breathing. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the clock.
Two thirty in the fucking morning.
“Jesus,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
It took several minutes before his pulse began to slow. Untangling his legs, he swung them over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright. The cool air of the room prickled over his sweat-damp skin, raising goose bumps in its wake.
The bathroom light was too bright when he flicked it on, and he squinted his eyes, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror.
He cranked the shower on hot and stepped under the spray.
The water pummeled his shoulders, washing away the sweat and the phantom splinters, but it couldn’t erase the sound.
That whiz followed by that thud. Over and over, inches from ending him.
He leaned his forehead against the tile, letting the heat of the water soak into him, willing it to drown out the nightmare.
But it wasn’t just the gunfight that haunted him—it was her.
Tess. His mind had dragged her into the line of fire, had painted her in blood when she should’ve been nowhere near that warehouse.
It rattled him more than the bullets had.
He closed his eyes and lifted his face into the spray. He didn’t know what terrified him more—the memory of almost dying, or the thought that he cared about Tess enough for his nightmares to put her in the crosshairs.
For those brief moments when he’d kissed her the other night, she’d made him feel alive, and now his subconscious had turned that into a threat.
It was proof of how easily she could slip under his guard and make him question the rule he’d lived by for years—keep things casual.
And yet, even after the nightmare, after all the reasons he gave himself to keep his distance, he still wanted her.
He tried to push her out of his mind, but the only other option was to replay the shooting.
His thoughts ping-ponged between the two, refusing to let anything else in, so he settled on Tess.
For all the risk she posed to his rules and uncomplicated dating life, she was easier to face than the echo of gunfire chasing him in the dark.
Imagining Tess in his bed, naked and begging, he wrapped his hand around his cock.