Page 28 of Blue Moon

Chapter 12

Sol

After Sawyer left last night, I couldn’t sleep. I was consumed by thoughts of him and our kisses. I’d replayed our entire interaction in my head. I’d even dreamed about him. I was so excited to see him today.

I woke early and drove to the base. After walking through the maze of vendors, I entered the press box and waited for the show to start. Excitement rippled through me. Just two days ago, I’d been in that plane. Sawyer had only given me a preview of what he could do. Now I would see what he was really capable of in the air.

The crowd was milling around the base. Little boys and girls with toy planes stood by the gates, waiting to see a glimpse of their idols. Older men with baseball caps that displayed their status as military veterans also gathered around, but my eyes were drawn to a bunch of pretty women in tight skirts and low-cut tank tops, giggling and drinking champagne in the corner of the adjacent VIP box.

The groupies.

A burning sensation settled in the pit of my stomach. Seeing these women showed me the temptation Sawyer must face. But I didn’t hold any ill will toward these women at all. I got it. Hell, I wanted to sleep with Sawyer. He was gorgeous.

I poured myself a glass of wine, adjusted my wide-brimmed hat, and posted a story.

“Hi, lovelies! Today I’m here at the air show where we’ll actually see Sawyer and the rest of his squadron fly. I can’t wait.”

The announcer’s voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your Blue Angel pilots!”

Sawyer walked out with the five other pilots in their tight flight suits and matching aviator sunglasses. They stood side by side with their arms behind their backs and then all of them took a wide stance in perfect unison. God, they were so hot standing together. They really did look like rock stars. They began walking in formation, never missing a beat. After they saluted the members of their aircrew, they each walked over to their planes.

The announcer introduced the first plane and then it was Sawyer’s turn. “And flying Blue Angel number two from Davenport, Iowa, the right wing and the Marine Corps representative of the delta formation Captain Sawyer Roberts.”

“Woo!!!!!” I yelled. The announcer’s enthusiasm was infectious, and I beamed with pride that I knew Sawyer. That, better yet, I’d kissed him. Twice.

After introducing the rest of the pilots, the announcer spoke again. “The Blue Angel pilots take pride in personifying the United States Navy and Marine Corps values of honor, courage, and commitment.”

Those words stopped me cold. Honor, courage, commitment.

Sawyer definitely had the courage to fly that plane and serve in the Marines Corps. He had committed to his company and squadron. I couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever commit himself to one woman. Preferably me.

“The Blue Angels are the oldest performing United States military aviation demonstration team. Since 1946, they have exposed all generations to the wonders of naval aviation. And now, gaze up in the sky as our blues take to the air.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs like a groupie. Mötley Crüe’s song “Kickstart My Heart” blared from the speakers. I was so wrapped up in this moment watching Sawyer soar overhead, that I completely forgot I was supposed to be recording the whole thing.

Oh crap.

I pointed my phone toward the sky, but then something caused me to put the phone back in my pocket. My assignment was to post about the Blue Angels. There would be plenty of videos of the actual show and their death-defying formations. Plus, I was still going on a date with Sawyer tonight where I could post more pictures and maybe get a personal story about him.

But, for now, for once in my life, I didn’t want to watch through the lens of my phone. I wanted to experience the show with my own two eyes.

I stood on top of my chair, eager to see Sawyer’s plane.

The first pass was a diamond formation with his plane just inches from the other three. Terror gripped me as they approached each other. He could crash. It was so dangerous. I actually didn’t even blame the protesters for worrying that these Angels could collide and kill civilians on the ground now that I saw this performance firsthand. In my research, I’d read it had even happened before at another air show. I couldn’t even imagine watching them crash live.

But they didn’t crash—they flew perfectly overhead. It was surreal. How many hours had they practiced to make it look so effortless? And now that I had been in that plane, I knew there was more to flying than just skill. Sawyer and these men had to stay calm under pressure and maintain a laser-like focus so they wouldn’t pass out. They had to avoid colliding with the other pilots, or even worse, crashing into the crowds below. One wrong move would mean death.

But Sawyer made it look like he was driving a car.

The music changed to “Dreams” by Van Halen. I was elated from the combination of the kickass DJ, the perfect day, and the excitement of seeing the planes. This was the best time I’d had in a while.

Even though I was standing here alone.

At least I wasn’t watching it from my balcony.

Or on replay on my phone.

I was actually here participating. Living instead of observing.