She grins brightly at me, gulping d

She grins brightly at me, gulping down the rest of her wine, before nodding agreeable. In that moment, I instantly know where I want to take her.
There’s a shooting range just around the corner, and I want her to see how good I am with a gun. That’ll be filled with fun and danger, and it’s sure to turn her on.
I’ve never taken a chick there before, wanting to keep it as something masculine that’s just for me. But as usual, Dahlia seems to have me breaking all of my rules.
“Let’s go.” I scrape my chair backwards, knocking back the last of my whiskey, and then I grab hold of Dahlia’s hand and start to drag her outside.
“How was your day?” I ask her as we walk through the cool air. I feel a little giddy with the excitement of being in Dahlia’s presence once more, which is making me act happier than I have done in a very long time.
I hope she can’t see the effect that she’s having on me.
“Oh you know,” she smirks, wryly. “My boss is up my ass about an interview that a very stubborn man won’t give me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I dismiss her casually, whilst wondering what the hell I’m going to do about that. I only agreed to the stupid interview to get to spend more time with her… and to get into her pants. That’s going to come back around eventually, and I’m not sure how I’m going to get around it.
How do I tell her that I have nothing to say? How do I explain that I can’t talk to her? My avoidance of the press has less to do with the elusive aura that it gives me, and more to do with the fact that I don’t want people digging too deep. I don’t want people knowing about me. Not now, not ever. That’s never going to change.
“Come on.” I change the subject quickly, indicating to where we’re going. ‘Bud’s Shooting. I look up at the sign, feeling a stillness settle within me. Shooting shit up has this amazing way of calming me down.
“Shooting?” She asks, in a stunned tone that makes me even gladder that I chose this activity. If she’s shocked now, then she’s going to be blown away when she sees me in action.
“Shooting.” I confirm, nodding curtly. “Come on.” I pull her through the doors quickly, not giving her any time to protest.
I take her over to one of the lanes, skipping the queue that’s probably been waiting there for hours, because the staff members know me so well, and pick up my favorite gun that they have here – the .375 magnum.
I hold it in my hands for a few moments, just allowing the cool metallic exterior to fill me with the masculine sensation that will get me through anything. I notice that Dahlia is watching me, so I send her a confident grin.
If she liked me before, then she’s about to like me a whole lot more!
She watches me carefully as I raise the gun up, and shoot the target over and over again, hitting the bull's-eye almost every single time.
If that doesn’t impress her, then I don’t know what will.
“Nice.” She replies casually, sliding the gun from my fingers, trying to act like she’s not shit scared of having a go herself.
I grin to myself, wondering how she’s going to cope with the noise and the kickback of the gun. She’s such a tiny, delicate little thing; it’ll probably knock her to the ground. But as least it will make her see how masculine I really am.
She turns and takes aim, looking extremely serious. I can’t help but admire her tenacity, as she seems determined to give it a go.
But then she fires, and she somehow manages to hit the bull’s eye more times than I did, leaving me completely and utterly speechless.
“Um…” I wish that I had something to say, that I could somehow sound cool. My disbelief must be evident in my face as she laughs a little, happy to have stunned me.
Whatever I was expecting, being beaten by Dahlia – at shooting of all things – was definitely not it!
“My grandfather taught me when I was a kid.” She eventually admits, blushing lightly.
“Really?” I taught myself, and I worked damn hard to get good at it. It took me a long time to get there too – how did Dahlia manage to handle such a weapon when she was young? That just seems mental!
“Yeah, we grew up in a bad neighborhood, and he didn’t want anything to ever happen to me.” She continues, quietness in her tone.
It sounds like something out of a film, a life so alien from my own. Sure, I hadn’t grown up as blessed financially as I am now, but it was stable, middle class. It certainly wasn’t as poverty stricken as Dahlia’s clearly was.
We’re so different. Like complete opposites.
I don’t know how I feel about that.
Then I watch her shoot some more, and I realize that I really am in too deep. My feelings are only becoming increasingly stronger the more time I spend with her. I’m at a crossroads. I basically have two choices – either push her away and carry on with my life the way it is (or was, before I saw her that fateful night), or I take the plunge going in with both feet, opening up once more and allowing myself to get hurt.
My head tells me one option, my heart another.