Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
We drive separately, and the whole time down, I’m questioning why I let Micah talk me into this. You know, the guy who threatened to kill my ex and still might do it for all I know? Taking me to a gun range.
It’s incriminating at best, fucking evidence at worst.
But he looked so goddamn happy. And I need to learn how to shoot.
How can Micah act this…nice to me all the time?
Doesn’t it get exhausting to keep up the act?
How does he know how to tell the difference between the act and reality if he doesn’t break character?
The only time he broke character was when he talked about Arthur.
I saw real hatred there, and I saw how he was trying to get at my weaknesses.
But even then, he played it off like he was the big hero trying to save me.
He’s good. He’s really fucking good.
I have to make him break character. I have to. I need to see the real Micah without him playing hero or whatever. The need burns in my veins.
I need a few things. I need to learn how to shoot this gun, then break Micah, so I can have some closure on all of this.
As soon as Micah transferred the money, I texted Arthur and Venmo’d it to him.
I even threw in enough for another stupid hoodie.
I put it as a public transaction so he couldn't argue whether I sent it or not. Then, I blocked him again.
I feel better, but only incrementally. Because I don’t think Arthur really cares about the money itself. It was never about that. It was always about his bruised ego.
And that’s not something getting a few hundred bucks will fix.
The drive to the range feels like I’m driving to my own firing squad.
Micah is a constant unsolved equation, one that I feel like I can almost crack.
I’ve almost seen the real him, but not quite.
It’s eating at me, making it hard to look away until I solve it.
I have to solve it. If I don’t, I won’t know how to interpret anyone else in the future.
Won’t be able to keep myself safe. Micah and his behavior have to be placed in a category in my brain once and for all.
When we get to the range, I almost don’t get out of the car, but then Micah bounces around to my side, a cheerful grin on that stupidly cute face of his, and I find my hand going to the door and opening it.
How hard could it be to break Micah? It can’t be that hard.
“Ready to fill things full of holes?” Micah asks, pure joy in his tone.
I just shrug. The gun makes me anxious. I’ve never shot one before, and it scares me, having something so capable of taking life just…right there in front of me.
Right there in front of Micah. He could turn it around and shoot me with it.
But Micah guides me through the store, chatting with the employees there like he’s completely at ease. I don’t know how he does it, really. He’s a phenomenal actor.
That, or this is who he really is.
My stomach does a weird…something at that thought. But before I can really identify it, we’re in the lane, ear and eye protection on. Micah’s eyelashes are so long I can practically see them brushing the protective lenses.
Then I rip my gaze away. Who cares? I’m here to shoot.
But just as quickly, I’m standing in front of the gun, realizing I have no idea what to do.
Micah strolls up next to me, grabbing a magazine. “So the basics of gun safety are: keep your finger off the trigger till you’re ready to shoot. Don’t point at anything you aren’t prepared to shoot, and always keep the gun pointed downrange.” He nudges a magazine my way, and I start to load it.
“Sorry if I say anything you already know. I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”
Micah is already done loading his magazines, chattering about more rules. I try to listen, but I’m focused on the fact that once the gun is loaded, I’m going to embarrass myself in front of him by how little I know, and the feeling makes me want to run. This is a weakness that Micah can exploit.
Although what’s he gonna do in a gun range? Shoot me right in front of the cameras?
“Can I go first?”
I’m broken from my anxious thoughts to see Micah with a sheepish grin.
“I don’t mean to take first dibs or anything; it’s just been so long since I’ve shot. But if I shoot badly, you have to look away and pretend like it came from another row!”
I raise both my hands and back up a step. Gently, Micah shoves me back one more, winking at me. “The shells, they’re hot when they go down your shirt.”
He sends the target downrange to the 15 marked on the wall. He throws me one more quick smile before he aims the gun and fires rounds. It’s loud, but not as bad as I expected, all the shells tinkling by my feet. I squint to see where Micah is hitting, but it’s surprisingly hard to tell.
Sooner than I expect, he brings the target back and groans dramatically.
He points at a few bullets that went outside the silhouette.
“Well, smack my peach and call me a ding dong; it’s been a while.
” He puts the gun down and motions at me.
“All you, but if you show me up, remember, I didn’t throw those bullets; it was the wind. ”
Despite my nerves, I can’t help but snort.
It’s my turn, and my heart starts racing. I’m one hundred percent going to do this wrong and fuck everything up. What was I thinking, buying a gun?
“Oh, keep your left hand tucked tight.” Micah is on my right, trying to reach around and show me. I pull my hand over to see, and Micah gently shoves it back downrange. “I’ll keep my three holes as they are, thank you very much.”
Three? But I don’t have time to think about it ‘cause Micah steps up behind me, then around, his body brushing against mine. The contact sends a shiver down my body. I hope Micah doesn’t see the goosebumps as he adjusts my left hand.
“This hand provides the steadiness. You’re really holding the gun with this hand; your right hand has other, more important things to think about. Can I touch you?”
The question throws me. Why would he ask and not just do it?
I nod, because can I really say no? I’ll look like a jumpy weirdo.
Micah’s fingers are gentle, just light pressure to move my fingers around. Then he’s leaning around me, trying to check my other hand.
“Ah, yes, finger off the trigger till you’re ready to shoot, excellent.”
Micah steps back, and the space where he was is suddenly cold.
“On you!” He sends the target downrange.
Let’s get this over with.
I fire one round, the gun kicking in my hand with a small explosion. I realize I’ve closed my eyes, so I open them to see where the bullet went.
“Heck yeah, man! Right into his chest!” Micah’s excited voice comes from behind me.
Chest? That’s good.
I fire a few more rounds, getting more comfortable with the behavior of the gun as Micah encourages me from behind. Then the gun locks, and the trigger won’t pull anymore.
“Fresh out.”
Micah pulls the target back in, and I evaluate it. There are a lot of holes in the silhouette, and a lot outside.
My stomach drops.
Micah just grabs another silhouette. “That was awesome, man! Try again! I see some that the guy in lane three threw into our target.”
It does feel good to have something so powerful work for me. I still don’t miss the fact that Micah is blaming the guy in lane 3 for my poor shooting to try to make me feel better.
But damn him, it does make me feel better. Because I’m weak.
This time, when Micah sends it back downrange, he asks, “How are you holding it with your right hand?”
I raise the gun up, showing him.
“Fire for me.”
I do, and the bullet hits to the left of where I mean it to go.
“Hmmm.” Micah steps behind me again, one hand on my left and one on my right. “Feel the way I’m squeezing? Now fire.”
Micah’s body is warm, and his torso brushes my back, causing more goosebumps to prickle down my arms and my dick to spring into motion.
Fuck! No, I try to focus, squeezing my finger. The gun goes off with a bang.
“Ah, I see!” Micah’s voice is right by my ear. “You’re yanking your trigger finger. Makes the gun dip down to the left. Happens to the best of us, probably the wind.”
“The wind?”
Micah chuckles. “Well, yeah, duh.”
Micah’s laugh does something for me. It’s stirring up all the tingles that already started, and now my body is on fire.
Micah continues to teach me, close by, hovering, brushing me here, touching me there, and I just hope he doesn’t look down at my dick, which is hard as stone.
At first, I’m pissed, and then I remember when we made out, and Micah melted in my arms. Suddenly, my body takes over my brain, and I want that again.
Wait. Maybe this is the way to break Micah? He gave me complete control last time. Maybe this is how I’ll see who he really is?
My dick bobs at the thought, which just pisses me off. This is a game, dick. It means nothing.
For the next rounds, I throw into the crotch area of the target, to which Micah cheers. And fuck, it does make me feel better.
When we’ve shot all the practice ammo, Micah takes me to buy defense ammo to keep loaded in my gun, and then we head to the cars. As we walk beside each other, I feel that electricity between us.
Micah gives a quick glance at my eyes, then blushes and looks away. “This was fun! We can totally do it again sometime!”
He hands me my gun case, but that’s not what I notice. I notice how close he is, so close I can practically touch him, and my fingers twitch.
Reluctantly, I grab the gun.
“That is, if you’re willing to not show me up next time.” Micah arches an eyebrow. “You’re kinda a good shot.”
Why isn’t he ripping me apart? I know damn well Micah is a good shot. He’s buttering me up so he can get at my weakness. Although he has it, so why isn’t he using it? Saving it for a better time?
I narrow my gaze at Micah, evaluating. He gives me an unsure look.
Unsure? Do something, man. Pick a fight, try to get something from me, do anything.