Page 60 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“Lias, you okay?” She waves a hand in front of my face.
“Kiss me.” I swallow, because it feels like a rock is lodged in my throat. “Please.”
“Right now?” She rises on her tiptoes and presses her hands against my chest.
“Tell me to kiss you.”
Rynn bites her bottom lip as her gaze drops to my mouth. “Hhmm, no, I don’t think so. You got me all excited about this date. You’re not allowed to kiss me until after.”
“But …” My hand clutches my heart involuntarily. “You … Rynnlee, you made me float.”
“Are you playing some sort of code game?” The corner of her frown twitches even though she’s trying to stay serious.
“Never mind,” I say, too much of a coward to tell her when I’m unsure how she feels about me.
We walk through shadowy tunnels, past a spot where water drops, plink plinking against metal. Rynn anchors my nerves with her calm confidence. Should I try to tell her again?
When we turn a corner, a bright light appears in the distance, growing larger with each step.
“You made it,” a voice I recognize as Shannon’s calls out. “Welcome to the Fury Factory! Where all the ghosts roam free!”
Weapons made for bludgeoning hang from the wall—from baseball bats to golf clubs to hammers to maces. Shannon passes us each a safety suit, since debris will soar in all directions when we start.
I’m glad we met Shannon at the café last week. I had texted her an update of Alexandra’s status when we went to the unicorn farm, and she wanted to thank me with a free session here. She owns this start-up company that hasn’t debuted yet. I doubt their funding will be approved based on the amount of waivers we sign.
As she explains the rules and what to expect to Rynn, I can’t help but gawk at my Sunflower in a jumpsuit. My lady rocks every outfit she wears, whether it’s pajamas, exercise clothes or thick, oversized gear meant for a mechanic. Goddess, she’s enchanting. I need to tell her my feelings. Now. It’s an erupting sensation from my chest that’s about to rupture all my bones.
But then she turns towards me and steals my very breath.
“You’re not ready,” Rynn says, her head tilted to the side. “Do you want help?”
I follow her gaze to a matching outfit draped over my arm. Unsure how it got there I shake my head and fumble my body into it. Alone. If she moves any closer, I’m going to mount her like a crazy animal. This intensity can’t be normal, right?
Her warm smile makes me into a jumbled mess of crossed wires, useless. How have I survived so much time in her presence without losing my mind?
Rynn shoves her helmet and eye shield on, then swipes a crowbar from the rack. Shannon turns up the volume of the heavy metal music until it might perforate my ear drums. She leads us to the ‘Fury Factory’ rage room, where a few ghosts swarm the air. Some hold weapons of their own and swing at the objects. Their batons and axes pass straight through the old desk and vintage microwave. I can’t hear their seething rants, but their boiling expressions are evidence enough that they belong here.
In complete adoration, I simply watch Rynn wink at a ghost then start her rampage by beating the shitzu out of an old mannequin. Before I can join, it is decapitated and brutally disfigured.
Beads of sweat shimmer on her forehead as she meets my eye with a giddy smile. Yes. This is what she needed. Determined, she lifts her crowbar again and slams it down on the top of an old wooden desk. Looks fun. Ghosts swarm and I can taste their unified animosity.
I grab a metal pipe. Lift it over my head. Pause. What should I envision?
Noah. No longer the Dad I need to impress, simply the male who contributed to my genes. After all this time trying to achieve the impossible to make him proud, it’s almost a joke how much energy I’ve wasted on thoughts of him. When he finally pranced back into my life, he didn’t show half-a-crap about Pumpkins, or me, or my life.
My body tenses. I ram the pipe straight through the top of the desk. It cracks. The impact rumbles through my muscles. Pure ecstasy floods my nervous system like a drug.
Rynn’s eyes widen. I can’t hear her over the blasting music but read her lips. ‘Again.’ So I strike. Hard and fluid. Again and again. Splinters fly but our suits protect us. Music pounds my ears. Adrenaline pumps on overdrive. My pulse spikes high. Breathing turns heavy and labored.
Smack.
All the wasted years I spent accelerating in school which Noah didn’t even notice.
Crash.
Wasted effort sucking up to Noah’s colleagues.
Slam.
