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Okay so—
I don’t even know how to explain what the hell just happened.
One second I’m stepping off the damn jet, ready to get back to my room and maybe sneak a nap with my girl—with whom btw there has been some miscommunication and I hadnt seen her in four days—before Castle calls another emergency meeting about surveillance frequencies or moral integrity or whatever, and the next thing I know, I’m getting tackled. Tackled. Full-body, full-contact hug. Like I just returned from war and saved five babies and a puppy.
“KENJI!”
Oh my god.
Oh no.
I know that voice.
I don’t know that voice.
Wait—I don’t know that voice.
I freeze.
Because there are hands on my back.
Hands on my face.
She’s patting me down like she’s looking for a gunshot wound. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you answer my last message?”
My vocal cords have abandoned me. My lungs are malfunctioning. My body is no longer mine.
She’s still holding my face like I’m a painting she’s trying to memorize. One of her thumbs brushes my cheekbone and I swear it short-circuits my brain.
I blink. Slowly.
“Who—what—I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oh my god,” she gasps. Like I just broke her heart. “Kenji, it’s me. It’s Riley.”
Riley?
Who the hell is Riley?
I look around, searching for literally anyone to help me escape this madness—and my eyes find Brendan. Thank god. He’s standing about ten feet away, sipping his juice box like this is a soap opera he paid for. Doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face.
“She’s going to kill you,” Brendan mouths, nodding his chin toward something behind me.
I turn.
Her.
A hundred meters away.
Black hoodie, badge still clipped to her waistband. Hair tied up in a bun that means business.
Face?
Murder.
She looks like she’s about to assassinate a small country, and unfortunately, I am that country.
“Why does she look like that?” I ask Brendan, panicked.
He shrugs. “You’ve been gone for four days and she sees some girl practically groping you on the runway. Use your brain, genius.”
“I don’t know this girl!”
The girl—Riley—is now rubbing my chest. My chest. Like she’s checking for broken ribs. I jump back like she burned me. She pouts.
“I thought you and her broke up,” she says.
My mouth drops open.
“What?! Why would you think that?! Who said that?!”
She blinks. “I heard it from a few people. I thought—I don’t know—I figured now was the time.”
“The time for what?! Assault?!”
And then—because of course—Warner materializes out of thin fucking air like he’s been summoned by the god. He stares at me, ice-cold, eyes unreadable.
“Did you dump her?”
“I—NO—WHAT?!”
I flail.
I literally flail.
I look like a puppet whose strings just got cut. My arms are in the air. My voice is a solid octave above normal.
“WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I DUMPED HER?!”
“You better hope you didn’t,” Warner says, expression not changing. “Because if you did, I’m going to make sure you never walk again.”
“BRO,” I cry. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS GIRL.”
“I’m Riley,” she chimes in brightly.
Warner doesn’t even look at her. He just turns and walks away.
Meanwhile, she is walking toward me.
Correction.
She is marching.
Picking up speed.
Her fists are clenched. Her steps are sharp. She is walking like someone who’s about to commit a war crime. She’s gaining on me and I realize, very suddenly, that I am in mortal danger.
My fight or flight kicks in.
And guess what?
I choose flight.
I turn around and run.
“BABY—BABY IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE,” I shout over my shoulder. “I SWEAR TO GOD I DON’T KNOW THAT GIRL.”
“You’re DEAD, Kenji Kishimoto!”
“BABY PLEASE—”
I run faster.
The building doors fly open. I crash into three people. I don’t even look to see who they are. One of them might’ve been Haider. Wait, Haider's here? Who cares. I’m trying to live.
I glance behind me—
She’s following.
Oh no.
She’s running.
AND SHE’S GOT A KNIFE.
“WHAT THE HELL—WHERE DID YOU GET A KNIFE?!”
“THE KITCHEN,” she screams. “IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”
I duck into the corridor, skid past a table, nearly trip on a mop bucket, and burst into the cafeteria like I’m in an action movie. People scream as I leap over a bench. Plates crash to the floor. I’m mid-air when—
I trip.
That's one way to talk about my dignity.
I go down like a bag of bricks, arms flailing, legs twisting, the wind knocked clean out of me.
And then—
BOOM
She crashes on top of me.
Full body contact.
We land like a tangled heap of limbs, my back slammed to the cold tile, her body splayed across mine, her knee digging into my side. One of my hands instinctively finds her lower back to hold her steady. The other cradles the back of her head so she doesn’t knock it.
My lungs seize.
She’s breathing heavy, right in my face. I blink up at her.
She blinks back.
And then—
We’re just staring.
Her body softens against mine. Her knife has clattered to the side. She’s still fuming. Definitely still mad, but something in her face shifts.
Her eyes flicker over my features. My mouth. My eyes.
She’s so close.
I could count every single eyelash on her face. I could kiss her right now. I want to kiss her right now.
“Baby,” I whisper.
Her fingers fist in the collar of my shirt. She doesn’t speak. Just breathes. Our chests are pressed together. Her hair has fallen out of its bun and is spilling around my shoulders like silk. I think my heart just exploded.
I always love having her this close.
I would always choose to be underneath her.
“I swear to god,” I say softly, “I don’t know that girl.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “I saw your face.”
“You believe me?”
“I also saw Warner interrogate you and your voice hit dolphin pitch.”
“Hey—”
“And you ran. Screaming. In public.”
“Okay, rude. You were the one chasing me. With a knife.”
She smiles. Just a little. Then something in her gaze shifts again—turns softer, gentler. She reaches out, fingers brushing my cheek. Her voice drops low.
“I would’ve killed her.”
“I know.”
“I was going to kill you.”
“I know.”
“But then you tripped.”
“You tripped too.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “That’s because you body-blocked the corner of a cafeteria table, Kenji.”
“It’s a hazard zone. I’ve always said that.”
We just keep staring.
It’s kind of romantic.
Until
Someone clears their throat.
Loud.
Very loud.
We both go rigid.
Heads snap upward in tandem like something out of a cartoon.
And standing right above us.
Arms crossed.
Expression unreadable.
Is Castle.
Oh my god.
Oh no.
“Oh shit,” I whisper.
Castle stares down at us like he’s doing mental math and doesn’t like the result. He glances at the knife a few feet away. Then at me. Then at her. Then back to me.
“Kenji,” he says, voice cool. “Is there a reason you and her are reenacting a soap opera in the cafeteria? In front of children?”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
I open it again.
Still nothing.
She lets out the smallest oof and drops her head on my chest like she’s trying to disappear into the floor.
Castle sighs.
“Clean this up.”
Then he turns and walks away.
She groans.
And I’m just laying there, arms still around her, watching the man who’s basically my boss walk out of the room while the rest of the base records this moment for future blackmail purposes.
Someone starts clapping.
Brendan.
Of course.
“Nice fall, Romeo,” he calls out. “Ten out of ten.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, cheeks burning.
She lifts her head just enough to look me in the eye.
“I’m going to kill you later.”
“Okay, baby.”
“You’re not getting out of this.”
“I know, baby.”
And then—because I’m me—I grin.
“Worth it.”