Page 12 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

I’ve successfully gone twenty-two years without watching a scary movie, and I refuse to start now.

So, I will do absolutely whatever it takes to win.

I ’ m too focused on strategizing how to do it to fully realize what Penn just said to me.

My nipples, on the other hand, seem to have heard him clear as day as they peak under my sports bra.

My body, unlike my brain, doesn ’ t realize we don ’ t like this egotistical jerk.

“ When I win, you have to drive me to and from school every day for a week. I ’ m assuming you have a car?

” I ’ m actually quite pleased with my ability to come up with an equally as painful reward.

Well, every day for a year might be more balanced, but I figured that ’ d be a bit of a stretch.

Not to mention, at that point, it ’ d be more tedious to deal with Penn daily than having to commute.

“ I have a car,” he replies.

“ Deal?”

“ Fine.” He smiles, like he knows something I don ’ t, and I hate it.

Still, I nod my head. “ Fine.”

“ You ’ re gonna lose.” He eyes me with a competitive stare before cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck side to side. I roll my eyes in response.

“ Just pick the finish line while I tie my shoe.” The moment he scans ahead of us, I kneel down, fastening my laces before reaching a hand over and untying his left shoe. When I stand, he points ahead to a set of benches in the distance.

“ There. Is that too far?”

A dry smile creeps onto my face, dripping with sarcasm. “ Say when,” I reply.

“ Ready?” he calls out as I take my stance, knees bent, body leaning forward. Penn does the same.

“ Set?” I turn to face him, eyes sharpened.

“ Oh, Penn?” I ask as innocently as possible.

“ Yeah?”

“ Did I mention I was a champion sprinter in high school?” Champion is a bit of a stretch, considering I was the only sprinter at my school, but he doesn ’ t need to know that.

Art of war. Intimidating your opponent is half the battle.

His eyes widen, but only for a moment before getting back into position.

I ’ m small, but agile, and I ’ m going to crush him.

This clunker is going down.

“ Go!” He starts forward, but I pivot, using my front toe to step on the back of his shoe, causing his foot to slip out.

He falters for a moment, trying to get it back on.

It ’ s minimal, but I seize my opportunity.

Darting forward, I move my body as fast as I can, pumping my arms with every stride.

We ’ re about halfway there when I hear a heavy huffing just over my shoulder.

“ Unsportmanlike conduct, Soup. You should be ashamed.” If he hasn ’ t caught up by now, I ’ m pretty confident I can finish this out. I turn my head ever so slightly, just enough for him to spot my smirk. When he does, he shakes his head before quickening his pace.

Suddenly, he ’ s right next to me, sporting a full smile. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT. A second later, he ’ s a pace ahead as I scramble to keep up.

This cannot be happening.

In a flash, he charges even further ahead of me and hits the benches before climbing on top of one, posing like he just won Olympic gold. When he ’ s done his gloating, he plops down onto the bench, tapping the spot next to him. I reluctantly take a seat, arms crossed.

“ So… what ever should we watch tonight?”

“ Uh, Harry Potter?” I ask hopefully.

He bursts out laughing. “ Nice try, you ’ re not getting out of this one.”

Well, it was worth a shot.

“ I wonder if we should go the wild murderer on the loose route... Maybe, zombie apocalypse? Alien-invasion? Or there ’ s always the good ole fashioned haunting movies.”

Genuinely, these all sound fucking disastrous.

I don ’ t know how my day got so derailed in a matter of thirty minutes.

I should never have opened my front door.

This is what I get for thinking I ’ m grown enough to face stranger-danger head-on.

I ’ m now forced to be terrified for the next twelve to fifteen business days.

My face must be showing my cards because Penn ’ s expression grows more serious as he places a hand on my shoulder.

“ How about I surprise you when you get there? Seven-thirty okay? You don ’ t need to bring anything but yourself.

Snacks will be provided, along with the company of a devastatingly handsome guy. Come on, Bri. It ’ s going to be fun.”

***

This is not fucking fun.

I ’ ve spent the last twenty-five minutes cocooned in the massive blanket Penn had lying out on the couch. I can barely hear the movie over the pounding of my heartbeat.

Penn did this to me. For his own amusement .

When I first knocked on the door, I didn ’ t know what to expect, but a clean and beautifully furnished apartment sure wasn ’ t at the top of that list. To top it off, his kitchen island was chock-full of snacks.

Popcorn, chocolate, candies—you name it.

I brought over some soda and packed a granola bar in my purse because when do I not come prepared?

But I haven ’ t had to break that out at all.

Very suspiciously, he ’ s been a great host. I was fed, comfy, and at ease by the time he pushed play.

That ’ s when it all went downhill. It took a total of, oh, I don ’ t know…

five minutes for me to bury myself deep into his couch.

Penn immediately started laughing at me, which I ’ m proud to say earned him a hefty punch in his arm, but even that didn ’ t help.

I ’ m mentally counting down the minutes until I ’ ve paid my debt and can leave. I can get my revenge, maybe not tonight, but my moment will come. I ’ ll make sure of it.

I realize the apartment has gone quiet. Somehow, the silence is even more menacing.

It takes me longer than I ’ d care to admit to finally reopen my eyes.

As I inch my head out of the safety of the blanket, the paused screen comes into view, the movie frozen on yet another dark and murderous-looking street.

When I look at Penn, I ’ m shocked to find him staring at me, an infuriating level of amusement in his eyes.

“ Bridgette Campbell, are you even watching?”

“ I AM,” I shriek. The sound of my own voice startles me as I jump in my seat.

“ You ’ re a fucking terrible liar.” Don ’ t I know it.

“ I ’ m watching,” I mutter, retreating back into my safe space. Okay, Bri. Get it fucking together. This is a work of fiction. You are a boss bitch.

My mental pep talk gives me the smallest confidence boost, and honestly, I ’ ll take it. Let ’ s just get this over with. “ Uh, can you play, please?” I huff, looking back to Penn.

“ If you ’ re really that scared, we don ’ t have to finish it.” The softness of his voice throws me off. I don ’ t want his pity. A deal is a deal, and I ’ m not backing out.

“ We ’ re finishing it,” I snip back.

“ Seriously, I ’ m not going to traumatize you. It ’ s bad for my brand. Ya know, Toronto Tundra heartthrob and all-around-good guy.” He flashes that mega-watt smile of his.

“ It ’ s a miracle we can fit on this couch with the size of your ego.”

“ Oh, I ’ m great at making things fit.”

I refuse to engage.

Mark my words, this will not be a flirty banter moment.

So, like the dignified woman I am, I hmph, shimmie as far away as I can, and turn to face the TV.

“ Silent treatment, huh? I really get you that hot and bothered, eh?”

“ Ugh, you wish. The only reason I ’ d be bothered, is because you ’ re a fucking bother.”I snap a glare at him before his smirk tells me this is exactly what he wanted.

“ It ’ s fun to play with you, Soup. So easily irritated. Like an angry little elf.”

“ The fuck did you just call me?”

“ Case in point.” He winks before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

I ’ m still trying to implode his brain with laser beams I ’ m imagining shooting out of my eyes, when the movie starts again.

Like a spooked deer, I slam my body against the couch back, tightening my grip on my blanket bubble.

I swear I hear the asshole stifle a laugh. I ’ m honed in on the movie, fueled by annoyance more than anything. If it ’ ll help me power through, then so be it. There ’ s a tug on the fabric surrounding me.

“ Can you share some of this?” I eye him skeptically. What is he playing at here? “ Come on, I ’ m cold. I promise to keep my giant di—ego away from you.” He holds up his hand like a scout ’ s honor. “ Unless you ’ d rather snuggle, the choice is yours entirely.”

I reluctantly lift my body up, unravelling a single layer of protection.

He scoots closer, slipping under the blanket too, until I can feel the warmth of his body start to radiate.

His fresh scent is oddly comforting, like the use of a new sense is helping to ground me to this moment.

His body leans in closer to me, just far enough that we ’ re not touching, but close enough to make me feel safe, and warm, and—

Right on cue, I ’ m ambushed with fresh horror. The already nightmare-inducing music radiating from the TV is starting to increase in volume.

It ’ s overwhelming.

The heaviness in my chest growing with every passing millisecond.

The peace from a moment ago is nowhere in sight as my fight or flight kicks in, my palms growing clammy.

My pulse skyrockets, every inch of my body begging me to run.

When I turn to Penn, I ’ m shocked to see him already staring at me. Our faces are mere inches apart and there ’ s something in his gaze that I can ’ t quite place. It ’ s like he doesn ’ t even realize what ’ s happening.

The bass from the speaker system vibrates as the movie reaches what I can only assume must be max volume.

“ The remote,” I scream, wholly snapping Penn out of whatever moment he was having. “ You ’ re sitting on the remote!” This comes out so shrill, I hardly recognize my own voice. “ Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off!”

I peek over at the screen, which is a huge fucking mistake. Someone ’ s one hundred percent about to die, and I am going to hear it with every ounce of my being. I slap one hand over my eyes, the other frantically tapping the space around me for the tiny, rectangular savior.

My hand sweeps all around my body, before I uncoordinatedly move my search outward. My hand comes down, landing on something hard. Relief washes through my system for a brief millisecond, as I wrap my hand around it.

“ Fuuck.” I crack my eyes open and catch Penn, his eyes squeezed shut before they reopen, embarrassment flashing across his face. “ That ’ s uh, that ’ s not.”

Omigod…

“ WHY IS IT HARD?!” I shriek, snapping my hand back.

“ You were…” He clears his throat, scruffing the hair behind his neck, then points at the cushion. “ You were on my couch and—”

I can ’ t even focus, my hands slapping over my ears when the screams start blaring out of the speakers. A sharp shing-sound rings out, some guy getting brutally murdered on the screen. My heart is thrashing so hard.

This is how I go, I know it.

My head grows dizzy as I stumble backward.

There ’ s too much going on, I can ’ t think.

I can ’ t even breathe.

“ Turn it off, turn it off, please. PLEASE,” I cry out and drop to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my head against them before bracketing my arms over my head.

When the apartment goes quiet again, I peek up through a small slit between my fingers. I watch as Penn drops the remote back onto the couch and adjusts himself with a hiss.

Why do the hottest guys have the biggest penises?

Seems highly unfair to the rest of the male population.