Practice makes perfect, and when you're fighting to be the best in your sport that is especially true. Ryder and Francesca are no exception. They are dedicated to their sport and refuse to let anything distracted. But when a scheduling conflict forc...
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"Luna, I will meet you at the rink. I have something to take care of first."
"Ok! See you later Fran!"
"Bye," Tristian yells from his spot cuddled with Luna on our couch. Tristian got killed this morning so he has been pouting while Luna has been trying to cheer him up.
Yesterday after our meeting at Pickles my team wanted to have a team bonding night without the hockey boys. Ryder seemed a little bummed but I went and it paid off. I ended up killing Paulie who had been doing a good job of staying alive . Now I am on my way to get my next kill and this may be the hardest one yet.
I walk into hockey house and make a dash straight for the room I am looking for. I still don't know who has me but I am pretty sure it is one of the hockey players. Most of my team besides me, Luna, and three others are dead. We are now down to under 25 people still alive which means half of the original people playing are dead. The dead have reignited prank wars since they're no longer preoccupied with assassins so this morning the hockey team got to practice and their locker room was covered in chicken feathers, karma is a bitch boys.
"Hey Beck? Looking for Ryder?"
I look at Bray who is sitting at his desk playing some video game. I feel bad killing him but it must be done. "I'm sorry Bray," I tell him before taking the small can from my pocket and spraying him.
"Thank god," he exhales before pausing his game and hugging me. I remain stiff in his arms because I am confused. I just killed him. Why is he thanking me? "I have been waiting to be killed for so long."
"Why?"
"I couldn't kill the person I had, I just couldn't do it."
"Who do you have," I ask and instead of telling me he hands me the stick. In my neat handwriting, in bubble letters is the name I wanted least. Carson Ryder. My heart drops and I realize I no longer want to win. Not if winning means killing Ryder. "Fuck," I curse.
"Sorry Beck." Bray pats my head and I shoot daggers at him.
"I don't like you right now."
"Fair enough," he laughs as I turn around and march up to Ryder's room.
"Life sucks then you die," I announce as I flop face first into Ryder's bed.
"Good afternoon to you too, Beck." Ryder is leaning against the doorway from his bathroom in nothing but a towel. His hair is laying in his face and little drops of water roll from the strands and down his impeccable abs. Maybe life doesn't suck but if I died right now, I would die a very happy girl.
I can't even form a sentence as my heartbeat hammers in my ears. Ryder is 6 feet 4 inches of pure muscle and lord does it do some wild things to my body. A small part of me wonders what lies under his towel, if his muscular legs and arms aren't the only thing big about him. I shake the thought away and focus on the wall next to him. "I killed Bray."
