Keegan P. Russ

It was just another ordinary night after the mission. The task force team decided to go out and relax—a rare occurrence, considering the kind of work they did. Laughter, inside jokes, the sound of glasses clinking to another day where everyone made it back alive.
The car this time was cramped. Everyone was already inside when she stepped out of the restaurant. The only available spot was… on Keegan's lap.
She huffed.
— Seriously? Isn't there another car? — she asked, crossing her arms.
— Want to stay? We'll send you photos of the outing — someone shouted from the front seat, laughing.
She narrowed her eyes and looked at Keegan, already seated, arm thrown over the backrest with that irritating smirk at the corner of his mouth.
— Get in already, tough girl — he teased. — You're not going to die from touching me… or will you?
With no other choice, she climbed in. She sat down slowly on his lap, stiff as a board, as if the touch burned.
— Just breathe, princess. You're more tense than you are on a mission — he whispered in her ear, his voice low and full of mockery.
She turned quickly, facing him just a few centimeters away. — Touch me again and I'll break your nose. Again.
— Try it — he replied with a little smile. — But be careful not to like it.
The team was laughing and shouting in the car, but there, between the two of them, the world seemed suspended. Hate, pride… and something more, that neither of them was ready to admit.
And as the city passed by the windows, illuminated, she remained there. On her enemy's lap. Pretending her heart wasn't racing with every turn.