Page 73 of Grasp The Moment

Derek doesn’t actually know the definition of relaxation. As soon as we enter the simulation for our laser tag mission, the man becomes the most competitive, non-relaxed human in the history of planet Earth.

He barks commands like he’s on the ice, shields, and pullsme in every which way. It’d be hot if I weren’t actively trying to get his stress hormones down from earlier tonight.

Instead, he seems to have other plans as he calls our laser tag team for some “much-needed” recon—or whatever that means.

Our team consists of two eleven-year-olds, an elderly married couple, and a pair of parents whose children are on the opposing team.

So far, we’re down by five points, but Derek has the highest individual score on our team, which led to him being appointed team captain.

He’s lighter in our fourth round of the game, allowing himself to be free as he runs around, tagging the opposite team with a smile on his face–only this time, I’m on it as well.

I watch from behind one of the many pillars in the glow-in-the-dark room, waiting for him to cut around the corner closest to me so I can finally strike him.

We’ve been playing laser tag for a good hour, and the both of us have been working together until this point.

My body stiffens as the sound of feet hitting the wood near me echoes in the arena. I freeze, ducking close to the wall as the red light of his vest zooms past. I hold up my blue laser gun, ready with my finger on the trigger, just as a familiar chuckle catches my attention.

Only, he isn’t in front of me like I’d originally thought. He’sbehindme.

Standing still, I hold my finger on the trigger, allowing him to circle me. Derek’s eyes are playful as he approaches, lifting a weight from my chest. If he’s playful right now, then that means the dinner from hell is far from his mind.

“Any last words?” he teases, pointing the gun at my chest with a small smile.

Throwing on my fakest pout, I send it his way, but it does zilch in my attempt to stay alive in the game. I take a stepforward, allowing myself to crowd his space as he takes a step backwards.

“Wha–what are you doing?”

Lifting on my tiptoes, I get as close to his face as I can, “We haven’t kissed today—if you’re going to get me out of the game, the least you could do is kiss me first.”

He squints at me, unsure of what tactic I’m trying to play here, but concedes, and as our lips lock, our eyes close, and the sound of one of the vests beeping alerts us of the other's betrayal.

Derek's grin drops as we part, and the lights on his vest flash white.

“I win.” I chuckle, kissing him softly one last time as he groans.

We finish two more rounds of laser tag before deciding to call it a night, heading to The Sweet Tooth for an order of cupcakes and grabbing a pizza on the way in.

Derek seems to be lighter than before as he drives us back home, a hand on my thigh as he laughs under his breath.

“What?” I muse, grabbing a cupcake from the box as he turns into our neighborhood.

“Thank you… for everything, Georgia.”

I don’t let him see the blush that creeps up my neck or allow him to know the impact his words have on me. Instead, I turn to look out the car's window and grin.

“Don’t mention it, Dere.”

28.Georgia

When I first learned thatmy mother knew of my father’s infidelity, I didn’t speak to her for weeks. Mom and I look alike: the same blonde hair and feline green eyes. But when I looked into hers on that day, all I could see was my future if I went down the same path as hers.

It scared the shit out of me.

You see, growing up, Grace Adams was a force to be reckoned with. She had this magnetism to her that stuck to everyone; she’d catch your eye and never let you go. My mother taught me to be kind, but to never take any bullshit—especially from a man.

So when I found Dad and his mistress in my room, I went to herimmediately. There wasn’t a second thought in my mind—I knew I had to tell her. The mother I grew up with would never find forgiveness for a man who could hurt and humiliate her the way that my father had that night. The mother I grew up with would’ve stormed into that room, cursed my father out, packed our bags, and gotten us out of there inan instant.

The woman I saw reflected back at me that day wasnotmy mother.