“Give me that.”

Lily handed Silas the gun, and he steadied himself. He squeezed, and a can exploded with a burst of sound.

“Gotcha!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Lily said. “Give it back.”

Silas shrugged and handed the rifle over to Lily before leaning back against the tree.

“Remember how good my mom was?”

Lily laughed again as she lined up her next shot. “I think she must’ve been a spy before she had you.”

“And Philip was so bad.”

“Well, he was always better with bigger machines.” Lily pushed her breath out and squeezed, and the can on the left ricocheted off the closest tree.

“Bam!”

“But be honest—were you aiming for that one?” Silas asked, kicking her ankle with his foot.

“Double or nothing,” she said as she squared off again.

“We didn’t actually bet anything!”

Lily squinted before exhaling and hitting two more cans in a row. But then she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she faltered. The third bullet hit the tree on the right, spraying bark. She rested the gun against her leg and pulled out her phone.

It was a message from Gavin.

. . . anything?

And then another.

I miss you.

Lily swiped out of the message instantly but felt its effect everywhere. She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly embarrassed by the cans and the rifle resting against her leg—the whole scene.

Gavin did not like guns.

“You know,” she said, loosening her hair, “that’s probably enough friendly fire for me.”

“Are you serious? You were just heating up!”

“I know,” Lily said. “That’s why I’m going to go up and make another drink, to cool down.” She hung the rifle on the ancient hook embedded in the tree closest to her. “You’ll put this away when you’re done?”

Silas sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

Lily came to a stop in front of him. There was a sprig of pine stuck in his hair.

From the moment Lily saw Silas at Sweeney High’s freshman football tryouts, her body changed for him. It was changing anyway, but he caught her eye and became the end goal amid all that cellular chaos. A blueprint dropped into her previously mismanaged construction site.

Become the girl who can get Silas Harrison.

So that’s what she did. But her young logic missed one important thing: being his meant nothing if he wasn’t also hers.

Between the smell of the grass in the summer air and the power of the rifle in her hands and the way he looked right then, his face, softened by the haze of late-day sun and gun smoke, made her think that if she looked at him for too long, she might crack, might fall back into him. And then, as it always was with them, he would see her as won and lose interest, and she would be left open and wanting.