Silence stretched. Long enough that Hudson wondered if maybe he'd gotten the wrong bunk, or maybe Shaw was already asleep—or maybe he was being ignored. Again.
"What." Flat acknowledgment. No question mark in his tone. Guess he got the right bunk after all.
Hudson grinned. "You know, most people at least pretend to be friendly on day one."
Another pause. "I am beingfriendly."
Hudson barely muffled his laugh. "Jesus. What does unfriendly look like then?”
"You don't want to know."
He snorted. "Seriously, though. You always this much fun, or am I special?"
"You talk enough for both of us."
"Yeah, I've been told that before." Hudson waited for Shaw to say something else—anything else—but it seemed like he had said his piece and was now done with this conversation. "You gonna be like this the whole twelve weeks?"
"Like what?”
"Boring."
This time the pause lasted even longer. Hudson thought Shaw had decided to ignore him, write him off as not worth the effort. Then, quiet and dry as dust: "I'm here to graduate top of the class, not entertain you."
Hudson's grin widened. There it was. "Top of the class, huh?"
"That's the plan."
"Hate to break it to you, but that spot's already taken."
"By you?" Shaw didn’t even try to hide it. Hudson caught the flat disbelief in his voice and honestly, he kind of liked it.
"Yeah."
"We'll see."
A line had been drawn. Now it was just a matter of seeing who crossed it first.
Hudson rolled onto his side, still grinning.
This was going to be a long twelve weeks.
CHAPTER TWO
ELLIOT
Elliot Shaw wokebefore the lights came on—years of training his body to surface at exactly the right moment, alert and ready. He lay still, taking stock. Everything functioning. Everything under control.
The barracks pulsed with the steady breathing of men who'd learned to rest without fully letting go. Someone muttered in their sleep, someone else snored without shame.
Across the room, Hale shifted in his bunk.
Elliot's awareness snagged on it before he could stop himself. Through the dim light, he made out Hale's form: one arm thrown over his head, body sprawled across the narrow mattress like he'd never learned to sleep at attention. Even unconscious, he took up space without apology.
He made himself look away and rolled over.
A week in, and he still couldn't figure Hale out. Confident, but not reckless. Skilled, but not showy. Elliot had been around enough men who confused confidence with competence to know the difference. Whether it wasgenuine or just an exceptionally irritating performance, he was unsure. He was leaning toward both.
Usually, he managed problems with ease: identify the variable, control it, and if you couldn't, outlast it until it stopped mattering.
