Page 50 of An Assassin's Death
Stepping away carefully, I let my eyes search his once more. They’re not as steely as they usually appear. As much as I want to rant on his mood swings, I figure any non-hostile moment between us is one small step for me, and one giant leap for the team.
For two hours, he makes me walk around in the heels while I block random attacks and various flying objects. He tests my reflexes, my preparedness, my strength, and my speed. I’m proud to say I only ended up on my ass twice, and for how much he’s been throwing at me—literally—I consider that an accomplishment.
Part of me wants to practice my new abilities. I know it’d benefit us. But it could also hurt me. It could hurt us.
Until I know how to use it, how to contain it, I need to just stick to what I do best. For now anyway.
It’s late and my thighs weirdly hurt when I finally lay myself down in the middle of the basement floor. This is me admitting defeat. Rory doesn’t mention it. He just stares down on me, appearing larger than life from this angle.
An awkwardness drifts between us. I feel it in the air around us and I feel it in the way he’s staring hard at every uneven breath I take. As much as I don’t hate him anymore, I don’t know if he feels the same way. With effort, I test our new blossoming friendship.
“Do you think I’m ready?”
His gaze skims down my bare legs and black heels before trailing back over my shorts and Jameson’s shirt. My hair’s a mess and he seems to notice that too before finally meeting my eyes.
“No.” My lips part as he starts to trail up the steps, leaving me with fuming outrage on the floor. “The best we can hope is that you don’t get yourself killed, and don’t even get me started on the fear that you’ll out us.”
I stare up at the ceiling as his steps echo over the flooring upstairs.
I can’t believe he has such little faith in me after everything. After I put so much effort into our friendship. I thought we were actually friends—gaining ground and learning to like each other… even if it was just a little bit.
Why am I so awful at understanding friendship?
Twenty-Four
A Date
I watchfrom the shadows as Tylin slips out the door. The baggy exercise shorts sit low on his hips while the white t-shirt he’s wearing clings to his body, hinting at the defined muscle mass beneath.
Stretching his hands over his head, he limbers up and takes off, jogging at a leisurely pace. I step from the shadows of the front yard and follow suit, loosening up before I begin to move. I’m sore from today’s unending workout, but I’ll never give Rory—or any of the guys—the satisfaction of knowing the real effect that their training is having on my body. I purse my lips. I can practically see their cocky, smirking faces now. I’d like to see them wear a pair of heels for hours let alone doing so while they were deflecting all the shit Rory can throw at their heads. I smirk as the image assaults my brain.
The pain in my muscles reminds me I’m alive, so I won’t complain. Two days. That’s all I have left before I risk my life for a cause I’m not fully a part of. I’m part of the team, but I’m also… not.
Tylin’s figure grows smaller the farther away he gets, but I’m not worried about catching up. If I need to, I can always use my sixty seconds to reach him. That’s not necessary, however, because even though he has some distance on me, he’s jogging at a leisurely pace.
My footsteps thud against the pavement as I give chase, pushing myself fast, aiming to reach him. Within minutes, I’m on his tail, enjoying the view.
“You’re not nearly as stealthy as you think you are. Have a good time hanging out in the bushes like a creeper?” Tylin questions, the headphones decorating each ear obviously just for show.
I’m not short, but I have to push myself to keep up with the long strides of Tylin’s legs. It doesn’t help that he increases his speed, forcing me to keep up with him before I can even get a response out.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I deflect, not willing to give him the satisfaction of being right. I jog to his side.
Dark eyes meet mine as we turn in sync to stare at each other. I arch an eyebrow, refusing to give in.
“Mmmhmm.” He murmurs, turning away. I heave an exasperated sigh.
“I was not creeping. I was waiting.”
“Mmmhmm,” he repeats again, his tone a little lower than the first time; unbelieving. I growl at his response and his refusal to look my way.
Is he always this infuriating? I thought that was Jameson’s ticket. Fuck. It’s all of them.
Silence wraps around us as we run, each content to leave words behind. Not that he’s contributing much to the conversation anyway. Rounding a corner, Tylin steers away from the asphalt, crossing a grassy patch that leads to a path in the woods. I follow.
Not many people would run here during the middle of the night, afraid of what danger lurks in the darkened forest beyond, but nothing out here is as dangerous as the pair of us. Hell, it’s not as dangerous as even one of us.
Crisp, fresh air greets my lungs as I breathe deeply, enjoying the freedom of being outdoors. I don’t do this enough. The regret of all the things I haven’t done weighs on me, and I put on a burst of speed, trying to outrun them.
