floating | ✓

22| games

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

- Oscar Wilde

22| games

I shoot the gun. The bullet goes soaring through the wind and hits the bull’s eye. I blow the smoke and smile smugly. “Who’s the boss now, Carlson?”

Oliver tips his cowboy hat up and gives me a look. “The game is not over yet, Bradbury.”

He points his gun at me. “Shall we?”

“Ahem,” someone clears their throat. “You’ll be able to hit the cloth at least once if you focus.”

I turn around and see none other than Oliver. He is giving me a look. I flare my nostrils. So what if I was having a daydream?

I look at the cloth again. It has a bright red star in the middle. All you have to do is to shoot out the star. There is a huge stuffed teddy bear for the first prize. Call me a kid, but I want it. I want to win.

The truth is, these BB guns are so bad, there’s no way I can. My turn is going to be over soon, and I have only managed to put one hole in the cloth, which is far away from the star.

“Why do I suck at this?” I huff.

“You really do. You should be able to at least hit the corner by now,” says none other than the oh-so-expert Oliver.

I turn back and glare at him. “Why don’t you try instead and show me how easy it is?”

“Yeah, you are right. I do need to show you,” Oliver says, and I don’t know if I’m wrong, but I see a glint in his eyes. The glint that sparks in his eyes when he does something different, the same glint I saw before he bit my neck.

My cheeks get flushed, and thanks to Oliver, my mind goes back to the moment when he pressed his lips on me. Great,  just great. Here goes my focus.

As if on cue, I hear Oliver right behind me. “You’re not holding the gun properly.”

Before I can register what’s happening, Oliver’s hand comes around me. I’m pressed against him while he touches my elbow and fixes my aim.

“Also, you’re not standing in the right place.” He places his palm on the side of my stomach, trying to make me move. I’m following his movements like water, flowing right in the direction he wants me to, like I have no control over my body.

My attention is fixated where his hands are, on my hand and on my stomach, and all my focus is right at the place where they made contact. The rest of the world have vanished away.

God, what does this boy do to me?

“Now you can aim and try to shoot,” Oliver says from right behind me, still not backing down even after he’s done.

“Okay,” I say, a little breathless because I’ve been holding my breath this whole time. It’s not my fault that I forgot to breathe. I blame Oliver.

“Shoot, Gwen,” Oliver whispers right in my ear.

I try to take my mind off the fact that Oliver’s pressing against me and look at the teddy bear on display. That’s what I want.

Are you sure? Because I think you want something else. Like maybe turning around and teaching Oliver how to shoot as well.

God, I need focus. I’m out of my mind.

I finally look through the little hole of the gun and aim again. When I pull the trigger, Oliver breathes on my neck, making me shudder. I miss the cloth by a whole foot.