The word hung in the air.
The entire shooting bay went dead silent. Blair's mouth fell open in shock.
Gregory violently rubbed his ear. "Did you lose your hearing, Castillo? You just agreed to be a piece of meat."
Adrian ignored him. He pushed off the counter and walked slowly toward Juliette.
He stopped inches from her. He looked down, trapping her gaze with his dark, intense stare.
He slipped both hands into his pockets. "If we're playing," Adrian said lazily, "one dinner is an insult."
Blair practically vibrated with excitement. She took a step forward. "What do you want to add, Adrian?"
Adrian didn't even glance at Blair. His eyes remained locked on Juliette's face.
"The winner," Adrian stated clearly, "gets me for three consecutive weekends. Full days."
A collective gasp ripped through the crowd of girls. Blair's face flushed a deep, victorious red.
Juliette stared up at Adrian like he had grown a second head. Her eyebrows pulled together in deep confusion. Why was he selling himself out?
She opened her mouth to reject the ridiculous terms.
Then, her brain did the math. Three weekends. Full days. That was seventy-two hours.
Seventy-two hours of uninterrupted access to the greatest mind in the physics department to discuss the CRISPR data.
Juliette's eyes widened. A spark of pure, manic excitement ignited in her chest. The hesitation vanished completely.
Adrian watched the exact moment the realization hit her. The corner of his mouth curved into a dark, satisfied smirk. The trap was set.
Blair saw Juliette's flushed face and scoffed. She thought Juliette was just another desperate fangirl.
Blair marched to the shooting stall. She slipped on a pair of custom pink earmuffs and signaled the operator to activate the electronic target.
"Rules are simple," Sierra announced loudly. "Ten shots. Highest total score wins. Loser gets out."
Juliette stood frozen behind the line. She stared at the black air pistol resting on the table.
Her fingers curled inward. Her palms were sweating. The suffocating weight of her past pressed down on her chest.
Adrian noticed the slight tremor in her hands.
He stepped forward, smoothly positioning his large frame between Juliette and the staring crowd. He created a physical wall, giving her a moment to breathe.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "If you're scared, I can shut this down right now," he whispered.
Juliette's head snapped up. She bit her bottom lip hard, tasting copper. "No. I need that fertilizer. And I need those three days."
Blair looked over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers mockingly at Juliette. "Watch and learn, dirt-girl."
Blair raised her gun. She took a deep breath, settling into a rigid, textbook stance. Her eyes narrowed.
Bang.
The electronic screen above the lane flashed. 9.8.
The crowd clapped loudly.
Blair blew a nonexistent wisp of smoke from the barrel and smirked at Juliette.
Juliette stared at the screen. Her professional instincts flared to life, overriding her panic. Her wrist is too stiff, Juliette thought automatically.
Over the next eight shots, Blair fired with mechanical consistency. The screen flashed numbers between 9.5 and 10.2. It was an incredibly high score for an amateur.
The whispers in the crowd grew louder. Everyone agreed Juliette was already dead in the water.
Blair took a long breath for her final shot. She locked her elbow, aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger.
The screen blinked rapidly. 10.5.
The bay erupted. Sierra screamed in triumph. Blair lowered her gun, soaking in the admiration like a queen.
Blair walked over to the table and slammed her gun down. She pointed a manicured finger at Juliette.
"Your turn," Blair commanded. "Go embarrass yourself so you can leave."
Juliette stared at the gun. She took a shaky breath and prepared to step forward.
Right beside her, Adrian let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.
