Dangerous Boys

I stared at him, fascinated.

‘Who are you?’

The words left my mouth before I could think them through.

I’d never met anyone like him before. Every rule I’d ever learned, he was breaking; everything I’d been taught to hide away, he announced it out loud.

I envied him. To be so bold and reckless, to care only about his own needs . . . My life was full of worries about other people: my mom, Ethan, the guys at the station. All my responsibilities and the obligation to keep their lives running smoothly. Keep them happy.

But Oliver? He only worried about himself.

As if he’d seen something in my expression, Oliver took a step towards me, and then another, until he was standing just inches away.

My pulse kicked.

I could feel the warmth of his breath in the air between us, and when he reached to touch my cheek, the leather of his gloves was cold against my skin.

Still, I didn’t flinch away.

‘Who are you?’ I asked again, a note of urgency creeping into my tone. Suddenly, I didn’t just want to know his secrets; I needed to, desperately.

I needed to find a way to be so free.

‘I’m the only person who will tell you the truth, the real truth,’ he murmured, leaning closer, until his lips were barely brushing my skin. ‘Not just all the pretty lies you want to hear.’

I swayed towards him. This was different to that night at the house. Then, I’d been taken by surprise, my mind scattered, powerless under his will.

Now, I felt desire twisting through me, waking every sense in my body. The icy air was sharp in my lungs, my body prickling with heat under the layers of sweaters and scarves. I saw the blue of Oliver’s eyes up close; not clouded with hues of grey like Ethan’s, but startlingly bright, like the harsh winter skies.

My eyes drifted shut, my breath caught, waiting for his kiss.

There was a noise, a rustling in the bushes near the lake. I felt the warmth of Oliver’s body leave mine a split-second before my eyes flew open. He was already back by the scree, reaching for the binoculars.

‘Look,’ he whispered, a note of excitement in his voice. ‘It’s here.’

I caught my breath, my heart still racing. I quickly crouched down beside him, peering through the undergrowth.

It was a deer, tripping delicately towards the water. She leaned down, her long neck stretching to take in the drink.

‘What happens now?’ I whispered, feeling a shiver of fear. ‘Do you take your shot?’

‘Not yet. It’s too easy.’ Oliver shifted his weight, passing me the binoculars.

‘I don’t understand.’ I frowned. ‘I thought the point of hunting was to kill something.’

Oliver turned his head. ‘The point is the hunt. You think I’m here just to blow that thing away?’ He was scornful. ‘I could walk out there, let off a couple of rounds, and she’d go down. Where’s the fun in that?’

I paused. ‘Fun,’ I echoed, uncertain.

‘You have to get to know her first,’ Oliver explained. His voice was low, still just a whisper, but there was something hypnotic about it, and the intensity of his gaze. ‘See what kind of beast you’re dealing with. No two animals are alike; they all have their habits and foibles, and until you get a glimpse of their true nature, you won’t be able to beat it.’

‘Just like people,’ I noted wryly.

Oliver let out a chuckle. ‘Just like people.’

We waited, watching from our hidden spot in the undergrowth for ten long minutes as the deer drank from the lake and then grazed around, nudging under bushes for grass that hadn’t been covered with the snow. Oliver barely moved a muscle, his focus entirely on his prey; every muscle tense and alert, while I tried my best not to fidget and shift my weight.

Oliver watched the deer, and I watched him.

He was so still. Ethan was like that, but his was a different kind of stillness: calm and relaxed, not this poised, precise energy. Oliver’s focus was absolute, and after a few minutes without a word, I wondered if he’d forgotten I was there at all.

‘You’re bored.’ Oliver’s voice came, but he didn’t look around.

‘No,’ I protested quickly. ‘I guess I’m just trying to understand.’

‘She doesn’t realize it yet, but these are her last few moments on this earth.’ Oliver did look at me, nodding for me to study the deer again. ‘This is the last drink she’ll ever take. The last meal she’ll eat. You’d rather rush it, and take all of that away from her?’

I frowned. ‘Does it matter? You’re going to kill her in the end, either way.’

There was a flash of motion, a bird landing by the lake. The deer skittered slightly at the movement, retreating a few paces into the woods. She looked around, and then slowly turned and began walking away.

‘Finally.’ Oliver murmured. ‘Come on.’

He didn’t wait for me to reply before setting off, footsteps light in the snow. He kept his distance, using trees and brush for cover, never losing sight of the deer as she meandered through the woods. His movements were swift, his body lithe, the gun slung across his back, the wooden barrel polished to a dull sheen.

I scrambled after him, trying my best to mimic his silent steps. I kept completely silent, watching every move ahead of me, my pulse thundering loudly in my ears. It was thrilling, like an adult game of hide-and-seek; waiting until the deer moved far enough ahead before slipping through the trees, my heart in my throat. I knew the smallest noise would spook her, so I made every step as delicate as I could, barely breathing to keep from making a sound.

We followed her deeper into the woods, before she stopped, nuzzling around the base of a tree that had sheltered the ground from the worst of the snow. Oliver held up his hand, signalling for me to wait. The woods around us were hushed, blanketed in white, as I crept up beside him, hidden back behind some trees.

Oliver took the shotgun down and lifted it into position; resting over his shoulder, his head cocked to view through the sight. ‘See,’ he whispered, ‘you hold it, just like this. Support the weight, here.’

He moved then, swiftly turning and placing the gun in my hands.

My heart caught in my chest. ‘I can’t . . . I mean, I’ve never used one of these.’

‘That’s why I’m teaching you.’ Oliver stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I could feel the heat of his body, solid against my back as he moved the gun into position, angling my arms and hands until I was holding it correctly, supporting the weight. I felt a thrill, awareness shivering through me to have him so close.