Rasheed and I duck behind a pillar having successfully avoided being seen.

"You are by far the most amazing dork I have ever met. I can't believe you made a file and printed this out. The guys haven't stopped talking about how you delivered it to me saying; Agent Rasheed your services have been requested for a special assignment. If you wish to proceed, take this file and do not share it with anyone. If you do, you will be terminated." He mimics my voice almost to a T.

I did do that.

I peek around the pillar and watch Tariq and Becca chatting, sipping their drinks while waiting for their food. "I know you mean good by that statement but I am somehow offended."

"Well, I am not one with words."

"I'd say that's a family trait."

Rasheed snorts. "Hey now my mom's a highly skilled pediatrician with the best bedside manner ever and my dad owns and operates a small bakery and all his customers love him. My sister and Tariq, I agree."

"Will you shut it! We are on a very important mission here Agent Rasheed."

"Okay, role play. I'm into that. I won't be getting anything else tonight, right?"

I give him a deadpan look.

"You're just as much of an idiot as your brother."

"Hey, that's not what you say to the guy helping you here."

I bark out a laugh, "Says the guy who literally ripped the file out of my hand in excitement."

"What can I say? That's every guy's dream since he was a kid to be an agent and go on a top-secret mission. For a split second, before you started talking, I thought you were serving me."

"I technically was. It just wasn't divorce papers or a lawsuit. It was a mission file."

Tariq holds his finger up, apologizing as he fishes his phone out of his back pocket and quickly texts something. I start smacking Rasheed in the stomach with the back of my hand.

"He sent a text. That's perfect. Okay now here's the plan. In about fifteen minutes you'll go over there because that's the amount of time it takes to get here from campus. You remember what to say right?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Special Agent Mitchel."

"Yes, Special Agent Mitchel."

I grab his arm and move until I'm standing in front of him with my eyes on him and Tariq. "Okay, here take this." I hand him a walkie talkie.

"You're kidding me?" he asks with absolute joy in his eyes. "You know the way to a man's heart, Special Agent Mitchel."

"Yeah, my future husband will be looking forward to coming home from work to nerf gun wars."

Rasheed looks at his walkie talkie then me. "Can I be your husband?"

"No," I state firmly. "This is strictly a professional relationship. Now I'm going over there," I say pointing at an empty table I paid a waiter a little too much for. There goes my grocery money. But a worry for another day. "I've already set my watch and will tell you when to go."

"Is that a kid's limited edition Zelda watch?"

"Yes, it is. Now pay attention. Hopefully, by that time they'll have their food. I'm giving you a chance to ad-lib here so you better not disappoint me."

With that, I head over stealthily to the vacant table and sit down. Grabbing my phone, I pull it out and place a menu in front of my face. My watch ticks away and Rasheed keeps his eyes on me as I keep mine on an oblivious Tariq.

Their food is placed in front of them and they start eating.

Revenge is about to be mine.

Muahahahaha!

As we wait I get bored with watching Tariq on his date and look down at my fancy walkie-talkie that used to be my dad's. He used it for hunting. But he would also use it with me around the house when I was little as a way to play with me.

My silly mood dies away instantly and I press on the button to hear the static, wishing I could hear his voice over it one last time.

My watch starts beeping and I'm jolted from my thoughts. I swallow down the grief and hold down the button on my walkie-talkie.

"Go, go, go."

Rasheed sprints into action and maneuvers around the crowd. I press the record button on my phone as soon as he reaches Tariq's table. Tariq looks up at his brother with pulled-down brows and an irritated expression.

Before Tariq can ask him why he's there, Rasheed grabs an unused chair from another table, flips it over, and sits in it.

"I got your SOS. Sorry, I'm a little late," Rasheed says, holding his phone up in the air and acting like he's out of breath.

Nice touch.

He looks over at Becca, grabs some food off her plate, and shoves it in his mouth. "Dang, their breadsticks are the best." He starts chewing obnoxiously. "So, what is it that you said that made my big bro here text me? Help this girl's a psycho?"

Becca goes bright red, slaps her napkin on the table, and pushes her chair back while grabbing her soda and throwing it in Tariq's face.

It.

Is.

Priceless.

Everyone in the restaurant is quiet and watching with bug eyes, while I'm doubled over laughing quietly and uncontrollably, clutching my stomach as Rasheed shouts at Becca's retreating back, "Hey, you didn't answer my question. I give great constructive feedback, sweetheart."

"What the hell man?" Tariq growls out. "We both know I didn't text you."

Rasheed holds up his hands. "You didn't?" he asks innocently while checking his phone for the message that he never received. "Oh, well look at that. You're right. Here."

My file slaps on the table and Rasheed does that thing men do in movies where they station their fingers on it and slide it over with force and class. "For your reading pleasure. You've been served."

God, I love Rasheed.

Tariq snatches it off the table, opening it up. His eyes read over the document, specifically written for him by yours truly.

After reading, Tariq's eyes darted around until they landed on me. He quirks a brow then bursts out into a loud, booming laugh.

No. no, no, no, no, NO!

I snap up and stumble as I make way toward him and Rasheed who has joined in. "You're not supposed to find this funny!"

Tariq can't seem to stop laughing as a waiter starts storming over to someone. "I can't believe I thought you were the forgiving type."

"I am," I say with a huff. "But not when it comes to you."

Tariq's mouth tilts up and I start shaking my head. "AGAIN! No. no, no, no, no, no." I childishly stomp my foot as the waiter speaks with the manager. "You're supposed to be horrified. Why are you smirking?"

"Because, this is literally the cutest thing I've ever seen," he says, flapping my file in the air. "And you actually did save me from a bad date. There was not going to be a repeat."

Rasheed leans over the back of the chair, crossing his arms. "I could've warned you about Becca. She's been trying to snatch a future NHL for a while now."

Tariq shakes his head. "Yeah, I got that pretty fast."

I push my glasses up. "Then why were you upset with Rasheed?"

"Because I don't want word going around that I'm that kind of guy."

"Coming from the guy who would make out with his girlfriend before every Bio class? You don't care what people think," I say, crossing my arms.

He raises a brow. "Oh Blue, you jealous you weren't on the receiving end?"

"Not even a little."

"You can have me tonight. The invitation is open," he says with a wicked grin.

"No way," Rasheed objects. "I wanna marry her so I can have Nerf gun wars when I get home from a long day at work."

Tariq's eyes narrow. "No way in hell, Rash. You can't have my BFF."

"Your title has been stripped," I say, tapping on the file with a finger.

"Yours hasn't," Tariq retorts smugly.

I throw my head back, then practically shout in laughter, "You are the worst."

"You love me though."

I roll my eyes. "You wish."

"So, about these nerf gun wars? When can we have one?"

"Never because that right is reserved for my husband."

"Which will be me," Rasheed cuts in.

"I'll castrate you man," Tariq threatens.

"Out! All of you NOW!" We turn to the manager who's seething and quickly leave while apologizing.

Once we're all outside, I glance over at Tariq. "You had like two bites of your steak."

He groans, "And it was real freaking good. You know what? Now I am mad at you."

"Because you missed out on steak?"

"I didn't." We both turn to Rasheed with Tariq's steak in his hands as he eats it.

"Dude, seriously?" Tariq asks.

"What? I was hungry."

I watch Rasheed devour it and push up my glasses. "I hope you have napkins or something in your car so you don't get your steering wheel all greasy. Wait? Did you seriously stuff breadsticks in your back pocket?"

Rasheed turns around jutting out his butt. "Yep. You two want one."

"In no way am I eating a breadstick that was that close to your butt," Tariq rejects in disgust.

"You wanna ride back, Special Agent Mitchel?" Rasheed asks as he finishes up the steak.

"I've got her. You should go in your car and enjoy your buttsticks."

Rasheed starts backing away. "Sounds good to me."

"Thanks, Agent Rasheed," I call out and he gives me a backward wave.

I turn to Tariq who is on his phone texting. "Give me one second to text Becca an apology."

While he does so I do my best not to watch but...

Thick hair styled nicely, looking almost like a golden black under the dim lighting. Dark smoldering eyes gleaming from the light on his phone. His face is clean-shaven, showing off his strong jaw and sultry mouth.

My chest swells as he shoves his phone back into his pocket then takes in my attire. I'm in sweats and a plain black long sleeve with his jacket draped over me because this was supposed to be a quick attempt at revenge.

"Come on, let's get something to eat and maybe talk to me about stuff that's actually interesting. Not how much I will be making with the NHL."

I snort out a chuckle. "She did not."

"Oh she did," Tariq replied with a deep chuckle that tightens my stomach. "Not a turn-on."

And soon we're in his car, shoving McDonald's cheeseburgers into our faces talking about our worst dates, exes, embarrassing things we did as children, and now our favorite movies.

"Seriously? The Departed?" Tariq asks in disbelief.

"Why is that hard to believe? I love Martin Scorsese movies. Give me a well-written plot about mobs with phenomenal acting and I'm in. Francis Coppola's, The Godfather is a masterpiece."

Tariq is already done with his burger and finishing off his fries. I can't stop my eyes from watching him put them in his sexy mouth.

"Yours?" I question taking another bite of my Big Mac.

"The Goodfella's."

"Shut it!" I say a little too happily. "You're seriously about to regain your title."

He smiles victoriously. "Who knew the way to that was through a mutual love for Martin Scorsese."

"Who knew? Did you see the Irishman?"

"Uh, yes, and another fav."

"Three hours of absolute brilliance."

"Preach it, Blue."

I throw the last of my burger greedily in my mouth. "I'll pay you back."

"No freaking way. Heather..." He immediately stops.

My eyes narrow and irritation pricks at my skin. "Heather, what?"

He exhales a huge puff of air and rubs his hands over his face. "She's going to kill me."

"What Tariq?" Shame hits me hard because I know what this is about. I don't need charity. "Heather told you I'm tight on money, didn't she?"

He rubs his brows. "Blue, she's looking out for you. Don't be mad at her, okay? She's worried you're not eating enough."

I want to get out of the car. I want to get to my dorm and empty my stomach of all the pity food I just ate. "I don't need pity, Tariq."

"I'm not pitying you. Can't your parents help out? Can they not afford it or something?"

My insides churn and now I'm really about to empty my stomach. "I don't want to talk about it."

I try to glare at Tariq so he gets the point but when our eyes lock I'm shocked at the anger in his intimidating gaze. "What's going on, Elodie?"

My name coming off his lips tells me he's serious. I grip my arms and his leather jacket whines against my grasp. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, alright. Just drop it."

We stare each other down and I watch Tariq think with each passing second. "How about this?" He finally asks, breaking the silence. "With rehab, hockey and school, I don't have time to make dinner. We go shopping together and I buy."

I try to object but he stops me. "You come to my place and cook dinner. Heather says you're really good at it. This way we're equally helping the other out."

I gnaw on my lip, actually contemplating it. It's a good offer. It could really help me out, especially this week. I draw to a conclusion, but it takes all of my power to say, "Fine."

We don't say anything to each other as he drives me back to my dorm. He knows I'm upset and is giving me space.

I hate this.

Shame cripples me as I sit there looking out the window. My mind drifts to the restaurant when I had wished my dad's voice would've come out of the walkie-talkie.

I swallow the heavy lump and fold in on myself, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them going full armadillo. It's what I do when the grief wants to pour out of me and contaminate everything around me.

I try not to cry.

I try not to think.

I try not to feel.

I try to forget.

Because remembering hurts more. Remembering reminds me of what I had done and how I had failed my dad. I close my eyes for a moment to combat the tears.

"You're not alone, Blue."

I cringe and look over at Tariq but his eyes are on the dark road, looking like the most stable thing I have in my life right now.

"We're here for you if you need anything."

All I can do is nod because if I open my mouth that sob I'm holding back will come out and it will hurt. Instead, I suck in a deep painful breath.

He pulls up to my dorm and I barely utter out a goodbye. I'm slow and sluggish as I walk to the big glass doors to my dorm building. All my movements become hollow and robotic.

I don't even remember how I got in or even opened my door or if Tracy was there. My body hits my bed and I lay there staring at the weird white brick walls. My hand touches it and it's cold and weirdly smooth, not how brick should feel.

A soft knock comes at my door but I don't answer. I sit and stare at the wall as that pit rips out from underneath me.

"Elodie? Tariq texted me. Are you okay?" Heather asks quietly through my door. When I don't answer she whispers out, "I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone okay? If you need anything let me know."

I try closing my eyes but my dad's cold hollow eyes stare back at me. I open them again and get up, turning the coffee machine on and dumping some cheap folders into the strainer.

Tracy isn't here so I turn on the old big tv and start my Nintendo 64, opening my file in Zelda to make a go at the Water Temple again.

I won't be able to sleep tonight because when I dream, I'm haunted by those eyes and I'm confronted with what I had done. I can't deal with the grief. If I do, it means I have to take responsibility...

And that will break me.

Completely.

I love writing this chapter! I hope you all had fun reading it

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