2.

*Katelyn*

I looked at the picture of the notorious drug lord. He was Italian, with olive skin and high cheekbones, black hair and dark, heavy lidded eyes. His name was Antonio Distefano, and it was my job to kill him within the next three months. Yes, I'm an assassin; please don't judge. When you're brought up and trained to do something, it's kind of hard not to lean towards that when choosing a profession. Besides, it's not like I go around killing innocent civilians. I kill the bad guys. I kill the people that the CIA pays me to kill.

And I'm good at it.

"Hey, babe." My boyfriend, Rider, sat beside me and kissed my cheek. "What are you looking at?"

I held up the file. "New target. Just got it this morning."

He looked over it, only glancing at each page for a minute. He didn't need any longer than that. He was an assassin; just like me – we had photographic memories and perfect recall. "Hmm…seems like a hard one. You gonna need some help with this one?"

I shook my head, giving him a smile. Rider always offered his assistance when I got new targets. And I always refused. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be fine."

He nodded. "When do you leave?"

"A couple of months," I answered. "Enough time for me to learn everything I need to know. I'll go for surveillance in a few weeks and see if I can't come up with a plan. For now, the CIA is taking satellite photos of his home and work."

"Probably a good idea," he nodded. "Want some help with that? Surveillance, I mean. Not the satellite photos."

"Rider," I laughed. "I can do this myself."

He sighed. "I know you can. And you know I like to protect you."

"And you know that I like to do things myself," I said as I leaned into him, feeling his arms wrap around me.

He smirked. "Now, that, I do know." He leaned in and pressed his lips softly to mine and just as I reached up to touch his face, the front door opened and we separated.

"That's the third time this week that I catch you two kissing in my living room," my father said as he came into the room, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down shirt. "Don't make me hurt you, Rider."

"Dad," I rolled my eyes.

He caught sight of the file in my hands. "Got it? Good. Any plans so far?"

"I'll go for surveillance in a few weeks," I replied. "I'll form a plan then."

He nodded. "Probably a good idea. Rider, when's your next mission?"

"A few weeks," he said.

"Right about the time I'll go for surveillance," I added.

Rider gave me a look. "If you'd go earlier, I could go with you."

"I'll do it myself," I said.

My dad laughed. "Just like me. That's my girl. What's your mom making for dinner?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. Smells like fish, though."

He nodded. "I'll go ask. Be good, you two."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Rider took my hands. "Why can't you let me go with you? I promise I won't get in the way. I just want to be there in case something happens."

"I've been on missions without you before," I reminded him. "Besides, you're not always going to have the opportunity to look out for me. I can do this myself."

He sighed. "I know you can. I just want to help."

I smiled kindly at him. "I know you do, believe me. But I want to do this myself."

He sighed. "Fine. You better not get hurt."

I laughed and kissed him quickly. "I'll be fine."

He smiled and pulled me in for a deeper kiss.

Later, sitting around the dinner table, I noticed my dad giving Rider looks every so often. I thought about asking about it, but I figured it was nothing of importance. My mom noticed me looking, though, and said, "Remember that almond cake we had on your birthday?"

"Yeah, Mom," I replied. "My eighteenth birthday was only last week."

She shrugged. "I was thinking about making it again."

"O…kay," I said slowly, looking around the table. No one would look directly at me. My father was glancing at Rider every so often, giving him that look, and Rider was looking at my father, too. My mother was poking at her fish.

"What's going on?" I finally asked.

My father put down his fork and looked at Rider expectantly. My mother did the same, a small smile on her face that looked so similar to mine. Confusedly, I looked at him, too.

"Thanks," he said, directing that statement at my dad. "This isn't how I wanted it."

My dad shrugged, smiling. "Carry on."

Rider sighed dramatically and then looked at me, giving me a smile. "It wasn't supposed to go like this, just so you know. I had it all planned out and it was so much better than this."

"Had what all planned out?" I asked, confused, looking around the table. My parents' expressions gave nothing away, so I looked back at Rider. He exhaled a laugh and got down on one knee, pulling a velvet box out of his pocket.

I knew what that was. I felt a confusing sense of dread. But Rider was my boyfriend…why would my subconscious be trying to tell me not to marry him?

He must have asked the question already, because everyone was looking at me, waiting for an answer. "Yes," I said automatically, forcing a smile and ignoring the feelings of dread inside. "Yes, of course."

Rider pulled me into a kiss as my parents clapped and immediately began making arrangements. I contributed to the conversation whenever I had to, but I still felt strange. And every time that I looked down at the three stone ring on my hand, I couldn't help but feel that it was all wrong.

But I shook my head, cleared those thoughts, and smiled. What could possibly be wrong with marrying Rider?