I toss down half a bottle of beer before turning my eyes to Gemma. Gemma is the first female Lieutenant in my squadron. With her wittiness and willingness to give anything a shot meant we became close friends in a short period of time. But in all honesty, when I was first introduced to Gemma, I was concerned about how she was going to cope with the rough conditions we’d immersed ourselves into. It wasn’t that I was a chauvinistic asshole; I was just raised by my father to protect my mother and sisters, so I assumed it was going to take me a bit of time to adjust to Gemma being a fellow officer, not my little sister who neededprotecting.
The adjustment didn’t take as long as I was predicting. It lasted all of one week—the time it took for me to walk in on Gemma showering in the male latrine. The boiler in the female dorm broke so Gemma ducked in our latrine, expecting my squadron to be longer at our TI drill than we were. After raking my eyes over Gemma’s naked body, any worries about treating her like my sister flew right out thewindow.
Although she is a little on the short side and couldn’t weigh more than a pile of feathers, Gemma is gorgeous. No doubt about it. Cascading blonde hair falling to her shoulders in a satin waterfall; rich, prominent green eyes that dazzle even in the poor overhead lighting; and perfect unblemished skin, except for the smallest mass of freckles sprinkling her tiny nose. She is beautiful – a prime example of both looks and personality. But even being hot enough to cause my dick to stir, nothing has ever happened between us. Gemma likes to say it is because she has the wrong skin coloring, but it isn’t that. There has only ever been one girl I want to jump the friendship line for: Ava. So as much as Gemma’s offer is tempting, I’ve never taken her uponit.
I angle my body to the side, tilting in closer to Gemma. “Who said I’m not a fan of whitechocolate?”
Gemma drifts her glistening eyes from the diverse gathering of people cavorting on the crammed dance floor to me. She cocks her brow before pulling her “I’m not buying the shit you’re selling” look she regularly uses when dealing with her male counterparts in the AirForce.
“How long have we been stationed together? Nearly ten months?” Gemma queries with her lipspursed.
I nod, agreeing with herassessment.
“In that whole time, I’ve not once seen you share the love with your fairercompanions.”
I laugh. It is the only plausible reaction to her absurd misconception. For one, the week before we deployed, I had a very compelling meeting with one of Gemma’s sorority sisters from Alaska. Two, any time we go out, Gemma spends her night dancing like the floor is on fire, too busy to be paying attention to my female companions. And third, but not at all least, just from the impish glimmer in her eyes, I can tell she is full of shit. She has eyes like Jorgie, I can see straight through tohersoul.
“Jealously has never looked so good,” I quip, my tone doused withsmugness.
Gemma’s head snaps to mine. “Jealous? Please! You had your opportunity—you lost it. No second chances around here,” she remarks, wiggling her index finger in front ofmyface.
I chuckle at her sassiness before taking a swig out ofmybeer.
Malted liquid comes spraying out of my mouth, dousing the wooden countertop and Gemma’s face when she says, “I also snuck a peek at the photo you hide in your foot locker. Ava is very beautiful. I can understand yourfascination.”
My heart freezes at the mention of Ava’s name, but thankfully my outward appearance gives no indication to the treachery of myheart.
“I'd like to say this is the first time I’ve had beer sprayed in my face, but, unfortunately, it isn’t,” Gemma mutters, dabbing her face with a midnight blacknapkin.
Once all fragments of my spit beer have been removed from her face, she lifts her expressive eyes to me. “Ava is in San Diego, not on the moon. You know that magic tin can we’re flying home in on Monday? They have similar ones that can fly you to any destination of your choice. San Diegoincluded.”
I smirk against the rim of my beer before taking a mouth-filling gulp. “You sound like my sister, Jorgie,” I reply with a roll ofmyeyes.
Gemma smiles broadly. “I need to meet this Jorgie. She sounds a little too good to be true,” she jests before placing an order with a bartender for a virginmargarita.
“Loose lips sink ships,” I mutter tomyself.
I learned the meaning of that saying the weekend following Warrior Week. That week of training should be called Hell Week. We slept in tents, ate funky combinations of beans and rice and practiced war-like conditions. But it wasn’t the unappetizing setting or the less- than-stellar accommodations that gave it the coveted title of Hell Week. It was TI Drill Sergeant Cody Spencer. He was the hardest, bare-knuckled and bloody drill sergeant I’d ever encountered. After a week in his presence, I could barely crawl, let alone walk. Deciding we needed to celebrate surviving our trip to hell and back, our regiment went out to a local salsa bar. After celebrating as if it was Cinco de Mayo, my lips become as loose as the salsa dancers’ hips. One slip up during a game of twenty questions saw me mentioning my high school crush’s name. Ever since that night, Ava’s name is mentioned at everycelebration.
I slam down the remainder of my beer and signal to the bartender for another. My squadron only has two days remaining in Afghanistan until we return home from our second stint. We’re guzzling down our drinks like we aren’t paying fifteen dollars for a can of bootleg beer. But when you’re celebrating a successful end of our tour without any causalities to your unit, you’ll happily pay the premium price, because you can’t put a value on that – it ispriceless.
“Why aren’t you out there dancing?” I ask Gemma, noticing the direction of her gaze. Her glistening eyes are absorbing the hot sweaty bodies mingling on the dancefloor.
Her nose screws up. “Grabby McGee is being extra grabby,” shereplies.
My eyes rocket to the dance floor. Madden McGee is a fucking sleaze, and that’s putting it nicely. He was born and bred with Air Force blood pumping through his veins. His uncles, grandfather, and brothers all served in the same squadron of the Air Force. Although his predecessors honored his family name, Madden has done nothing but tarnish it. He ignores any instructions given by his superiors, he treats the female members of his squadron as if they are inferior, and he has his nose so far up his own ass, he thinks his shit doesn’t stink. He is the type of guy who gives Air Force Officers a bad name. I also have a knack for reading people, and I didn’t like him from the moment Imethim.
I drift my eyes back to Gemma. “Do you want me to talk to him?” Ioffer.
“No,” she says, dramatically drawing out the short word. “I can handle GrabbyMcGee.”
A smirk tugs on my lips. After seeing the way Gemma handled Warrior Week, I have no doubt she can handle a worm of a man like Madden. After accepting her virgin margarita from the bartender, Gemma hip bumps me before making her way to a handful of female squadron members mingling at the side of the dancespace.
“Come find me when you are ready to go,” sheyells.
* * *
After a handful of beers,I decide to call it a night and head back to base. I straighten my spine, extending to my full height so I can seek Gemma in the crowd of people cavorting on the dance floor. Although we aren’t a couple, we always arrive and leave together when we go out drinking. When my search fails to locate her shiny blonde locks, I move to the bar. A bartender with inky black hair and a neck tattoo stops wiping the counter and pacestowardsme.
