Chapter 9 Recoil #2
They’ve thrown ping-pong balls into fish bowls, popped balloons with darts and tried their strength with one of those High Striker games. Spoiler alert, their hits both rang the bell at the top.
“So,” Tucker says as I walk down to the end of the pier between them. “I feel like the one who won you the most prizes should get to go on the Ferris wheel with you and get to drive you home.”
Colsen doesn’t object. “Sounds good to me. Because I think I must have won more stuff than Tucker.”
“There’s only one way to know who won.” I stop by one of the benches that run along the railing of this part of the pier and open the Star Cove tote that is one of tonight’s prizes and has come in handy to carry the rest of our loot. “Let’s see who won what.”
It’s hard to contain the giggle that wants to bubble to the surface once I count the prizes. “You’re tied.”
“Wait, what?” Tucker’s disappointment is written all over his face. “Are you sure? I won the tote too. Did you count it?”
I nod. “I did. You won the tote, but Colsen won four of the six shot glasses. You won the same number of prizes.”
“Fine.” Tucker points out the last stand on the pier before the Ferris wheel ticket booth. “There’s one last game we haven’t played. All or nothing on who scores the most points at the shooting booth.”
It’s a cowboy themed game where you have to use a BB handgun to shoot at a target. The attendant hangs a painted cowboy on a white sheet at a designated distance, and you get different scores depending on where you hit.
The gun is loaded with six bullets, and I watch as each of my dates has a turn.
“Shall we go again?” Tucker groans where at the end of their turns he and Colsen are still tied.
“I guess.” Colsen’s jaw is set, his expression determined.
“Or,” Tucker chuckles. “You could just concede, since you know I’m gonna kick your ass.”
They start arguing about who has the best aim, and an idea hits me while I watch them.
“Hey guys?”
The sound of my voice makes them snap out of their bickering, and they both look a little embarrassed.
“Sorry, Taryn,” Colsen rubs the back of his neck. “Sometimes we let our competitive nature get the best of us.
“What he said.” Tucker groans.
I reassure them that I’m not mad. “You’re good. I’m kinda flattered about this whole thing, but I have an idea. Why don’t you both ride the Ferris wheel with me? And I would love it if you both took me home.”
My offer is met with matching perplexed expressions.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Tucker shrugs his broad shoulders. “Nothing. Everything is fine and we can both take you home.”
I’m sensing a “but.”
“But if we both do… I guess I’m gonna get my goodnight kiss next time.”
Tucker is an equal blend of cocky and boisterous and equally sweet.
I can’t help but be drawn to him despite the fact that so far I’ve gone more for the brooding, slightly more intellectual types. Colsen doesn’t fit that mold either, even though I can definitely see some brooding intensity in him.
For some reason, I’m irresistibly drawn to both of them, so I do something that’s definitely out of character for me.
“What if you both got a goodnight kiss? Since you’re tied and all.” I gesture to the targets they both shot at.
They look at each other, some kind of silent communication happening between them.
“That could work.” Tucker speaks for his friend, too. “Then you could decide who you want to kiss again.”
He’s right. Kissing them could clear some of the confusion I’ve been feeling tonight.
“Sounds good.” I point at a couple of t-shirts hanging among the prizes. “But before we ride the Ferris wheel, I want to try to return the favor and win something for you. Wouldn’t it be the cutest thing ever if you both had ‘I love Star Cove’ t-shirts to match my teddy bear?”
This time they both smile when they hear my offer.
“You don’t have to,” Colsen says. “But if you want to win something for me, I’m not gonna say no. It’s crazy that I’ve been going to school in Star Cove for three years and I don’t own one of those t-shirts.”
Tucker agrees. “I was born and grew up here, and I don’t have one either. Besides, I would love to have a memory of the night we met.”
“Ok, then.” I extend my hand, palm up. “Let’s see what I can do. Oh, this is heavier than I thought it would be.” I say, trying to adjust my hold on the gun.
“Forgive me for asking, Taryn,” Colsen comes to stand beside me. “But have you ever shot a gun?”
I shake my head. “No. But how hard can it be?”
“It isn’t hard at all. But if it feels too heavy, I think you could try a two-handed hold. I can show you if you want?”
“I can show you, too.” Tucker chimes in, earning a glare from his best friend.
“I offered first, Tuck. You snooze, you lose.”
Tucker rolls his eyes but stops arguing, moving to one side to watch.
Colsen moves too, positioning himself behind me.
“Ok. So hold it like this with your non dominant hand and support the hold with your other hand. You’re gonna use your index finger to pull the trigger.
You can look through this hole to line up your shot.
Once you’re happy that the place you want to shoot is in view inside the rear sight, keep your arms steady and squeeze the trigger. ”
His warm, spicy scent invades my nostrils, and his big, slightly rough hands close over mine as he shows me the stance and the hold on the gun.
I’m practically in Colsen’s arms, his hard, muscular chest almost flush with my back.
His closeness affects me more than I care to admit, and I have to fight hard to concentrate on what he’s showing me.
“Any questions?”
A gust of warm, minty breath fans over my ear, and I have to swallow a couple of times before I can trust my voice enough to answer.
“No, it sounds good. Thank you for the demo.”
I immediately miss his warmth when he takes a couple of steps back.
The thought hits me that I’ve never felt this kind of attraction before; not with my high school boyfriend, nor with Tim before I followed him to his room.
“Ma’am, you’re all set.” The attendant’s voice helps me snap out of my lust induced daze.
He’s hung a new target for me and I do my best to copy the position Colsen just showed me.
When I’m satisfied that the heart drawn on the silhouette of a person is perfectly visible through the rear sight, I squeeze the trigger.
Here goes…nothing.
I squeeze the trigger a second time, but the gun doesn’t go off.
“Am I doing something wrong, or is it broken?” I ask nobody in particular.
“Sorry, my bad.” Colsen takes the gun from me to inspect it. “I left the safety on. It’s here, see? You can flick it off when you’re ready to shoot.”
I thank him and then do my best to replicate the shooting position he showed me earlier.
Once I’m happy that my shot is lined up, I flick the safety off and squeeze the trigger.
Everything happens in the blink of an eye, and it takes me a second to understand what’s happened.
All I know is that a split second after I pulled the trigger, the gun jumped back and the back of it hit my mouth.
The unexpected jump and the sudden pain blooming on my bottom lip caused my body to jerk back too, and I involuntarily squeezed the trigger again.
The second the second shot goes off, I hear a pained noise coming from a few feet away from me.
Tucker falls to the ground, blood trickling down from a cut on his leg.
“Ow,” he wails, his blue eyes wide with surprise.
I don’t realize that my hands are trembling until Colsen takes the gun from me.
“What—what just happened?” I run to Tucker, who in the meantime has gotten back to his feet. “Tucker, did I do that? I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot you.”
The attendant reaches him at the same time as I do.
“You didn’t technically shoot him, ma’am.” He explains. “You accidentally pulled the trigger a second time when the gun recoiled and hit you, and the bullet hit that wall over there and then ricocheted and got your friend in the leg.”
I cover my mouth with my hands, horrified by the nick in the concrete bottom part of the booth. The taste of blood in my mouth, as my bottom lip is still throbbing, doesn’t help the situation.
“Tucker, oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I look at him but I don’t dare touch him.
The attendant and Colsen are right by my side.
“Do you want me to call 911, sir?” he asks.
Tucker shakes his head. “No, no. I think it looks more serious than it really is. Do you have a first aid kit?”
As the attendant brings the first aid kit, I take over.
“Let me, please. I’m a nurse. Well, I just graduated. Tucker, I’m so sorry.” I repeat as I open an antiseptic wipe to clean his wound.
“It’s ok, baby.” He says softly, “You didn’t do it on purpose.”
I shake my head as more blood oozes from the cut on Tucker’s leg. “I don’t know what happened. The gun jumped back, and it hit my mouth and I must have pulled the trigger again without realizing it.”
“Yeah, I saw. The gun recoiled and got you by surprise.”
Recoil? I guess I should have expected it, but I truly know very little about guns.
“I didn’t think about the recoil.” My voice goes down, barely above a whisper. “I’m such an idiot.”
Colsen’s fingers close over my shoulder, squeezing in a comforting gesture.
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s obvious that you didn’t know how to shoot.
If you didn’t know about the safety, I should have expected that you might not know about the recoil.
I should have warned you. This is all my fault. ”
I keep wiping off the blood, but more comes out straight away.
“This cut is bigger and deeper than I thought. I think you might need stitches.”
Tucker’s sun kissed skin had already lost some color, probably because of the shock. He pales even further when I mention stitches.