Instead, I keep my lips sealed and I listen as he starts to go over all the pieces and parts of the gun. I already know the basics, because what hood kid doesn't, but I don't interrupt or tell Enzo that. And when he finally gets to the stuff I don't quite know about, I listen closely, nodding when he sends me a sharp look to make sure I'm paying attention.
Finally, done with the talk, he walks up to stall six.
"Now, watch my stance," he directs before placing one foot behind the other, his posture steady.
He raises the gun and I take in the slight angle, his arms bent. He doesn't have goggles or earmuffs on, which is why I'm unprepared when he lets off a shot, setting my heart racing in my chest. I put a hand against it, rubbing. He turns around and says something I can’t quite hear because of the ringing in my ears.
"Huh?” I ask, needing him to repeat.
"Now, it's your turn," he says before pointing at my stall. "Walk into the stall and show me your stance."
I feel odd, like I'm shadowboxing or something as I try to mimic what Enzo did, but without the gun in my hand. He walks behind me, a finger on his chin as he inspects me with intense eyes.
I almost fall on my face when he suddenly kicks his foot into the back of my leg. I let out a yelp, catching myself by holding onto the tray attached to the cubicle. Pain spreads down the back of my leg.
"Your stance is terrible. It's weak, and if anyone wanted to take you down, they wouldn't have a hard time. Your feet need to be a little closer together and you need to stand strong."
I try to fix my posture and he lets out a sigh once I think I have it correct. He doesn't say anything, instead passing me the gun.
It feels heavier than any gun I've ever held before, even a couple of weeks ago when I shot Javier.
"Now raise it and when you're ready, take your shot."
I feel the earmuffs slide along my face, the soft inside feeling nice as Enzo puts them in place. I take a deep breath before focusing on the target and firing. My shot goes wild. Before I can pull the earmuffs down, Enzo does it for me, shaking his head as I turn to look at him.
"I'm not surprised in the slightest," he says with a look of irritation on his face. His lips flatten into a thin line. "You couldn't even shoot a man in the head at close range."
"Some of us weren't in the military," I snap at him.
His stance goes rigid and his eyes cut to mine. "My military experience has nothing to do with this, and you shouldn’t bring it up again,” he says blankly. "Now listen to instructions and maybe the next time you're being attacked, you won't need Maximo to come and save you."
My skin bristles. "I don't need anyone to save me.”
“Just listen," he cuts me off sharply. Before I can even think of an argument, he starts talking. I listen with arms crossed as he tells me everything I'm doing wrong, which turns out to be a lot.
Every time I take a shot, he has corrections and I think I'm following his instructions perfectly until the earmuffs come off and I hear his deep sigh.
Repeatedly.
As the last shot goes off, he pulls my earmuffs off once again. He roughly tosses them to the ground, as he mutters something under his breath.
"Stronger arms," he says finally. "Here, look."
He slides up behind me, his body warm and big against mine. My back presses against his chest and I'm briefly distracted as his hands slide up my arms, the touch leaving unwanted tingles in its wake. When his hands cup mine, raising them to point at the target, I tell myself to get it the fuck together.
I inhale deeply, too aware of his chest moving against my back.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise and my heart flutters in my chest.
Enzo’s breath whispers across the skin of my ear as he speaks. "As long as you're letting your arms twitch every time you shoot, the shot is going to go wild. I'm going to use my hands as a guide to keep them strong and up." His words are a little choppier, his voice gruff.
There's a lump in my throat and I can’t force words around it, so I only nod.
His thumb slides on top of mine, putting quick pressure on it as we squeeze the trigger. I’m about to recoil, but his hands keep mine in place and I watch as the bullet lands closer to the target than any of my other shots.
"See," he says lightly. He shifts and a waft of his cologne invades my senses, it's nice, but I remind myself that Enzo isn't.
"I don't suppose she needs you to ram your dick into her to get her shot straight, Enzo. That seems more like a Maximo thing." I jump as the familiar feminine voice rings through the room.