I Just Need You - J. Nathan Page 0,35

target practice, but instead of silhouette pictures hanging in the distance like in the movies, this room had different real-life objects scattered around—all filled with bullet holes: mannequins, rawhide sacks, logs, cans, fences, mounds of dirt, a door with the glass missing.

“Have you ever fired a gun before?” he asked me.

I shook my head, too terrified to ever even hold a gun.

“Does your father own a gun?”

I shrugged. “We have security. Why would he need one?”

Tristan placed his bag down on a shelf and unzipped it, pulling out protective glasses. He slipped on a pair and handed me the other. “Put these on.”

I did, hoping the small precaution would ease my anxiety over shooting a gun. It didn’t.

Tristan reached back in the bag and pulled out a small black gun. I could see bigger guns inside the bag and hoped to God he didn’t think I was going to be shooting any of those. He held the grip of the small gun out to me. “Here,” he said, urging it toward me.

I shook my head. “I’m scared.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” he said, placing the gun sideways in his open palm and holding it out to me. “This is yours. It’s been registered in your name. Pick it up by the grip and then hold it however you feel comfortable. Just keep your finger off the trigger and point it away from me.”

“You think?”

He chuckled, and I appreciated him being amused because my heart sped exponentially as I took the gun and held it, making sure to point it away from us. It was lighter than I expected.

“It’s not loaded,” he said, reading my mind. “We’re gonna practice aiming it without bullets first.”

I released a breath. “Great idea.”

He pulled another gun from his bag and showed me how to hold it away from my body and without my finger on the trigger.

I mimicked his move.

“Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart,” he said.

I did as told.

“Your right hand is your dominant hand, so have your right foot slightly back.”

I slipped my right foot back a few inches.

He bent his legs a little. “Knees are slightly bent.”

I bent my legs slightly.

“Bend over your waist a tiny bit.” He did it to show me.

I followed his lead, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“You’ll lose balance with the recoil if you’re upright and that won’t work.”

I nodded, trying to take it all in.

“Let’s talk about your eyes.”

“I’ve been told they’re pretty,” I said, trying to lighten the serious mood.

“Smartass.”

I smiled, though it quickly faded.

“I want you to do everything in your power to keep both eyes open when you shoot. People tend to close their eyes or only keep one eye open, but I want you to work hard to keep both eyes open so you’re not cutting off half or all of your vision. You can squint if that’s easier.”

“Both eyes open. Squint. Got it.”

“Okay, now I need you to find a spot and aim at it. Start with a larger target that’s about seven yards away, like that mannequin,” he said pointing at the bullet-riddled mannequin.

I lifted the gun in one hand.

“Be sure your finger is not on the trigger yet.”

I nodded.

“Now, use your left hand to grab the grip almost over your right hand so you’re giving yourself complete support.”

I did what he said and could feel the added support of two hands.

“Now, keep your arms steady and find your target with both eyes. Do you see it?”

I nodded.

“Move your finger to the trigger.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“You can do it,” he assured me, his tone becoming comforting and kind.

The steel of the gun was cold and the idea that I was about to shoot it was terrifying. “Like this?” I asked as I slipped my finger onto the trigger.

“Perfect. Now, keep your eyes open and on your target.”

I nodded.

“Now, pull the trigger.”

I locked eyes on the bare chest of the mannequin and squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked. I looked to Tristan with the gun still aimed at the mannequin. “Was that good?”

“I’d say you hit his heart.”

“Liar.”

He chuckled again, and the sound brought a lightness to my chest that the otherwise grim setting had dulled. “Let’s try a few more targets, then I’ll load the gun.”

I swallowed around the lump that shot to my throat.

He pointed across the way. “Try that sack on the ground.”

***

As we drove through town on our way back to campus, my body buzzed with an unfamiliar feeling. I’d shot a gun. And the power I felt behind that