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Get a grip, I mutter to myself. She’s a journalist who is only here for a story. She’s not interested in getting to know me.
I’ve noticed more than a few hungry glances cast in her direction but she’s a professional and we all need to remember that.
Being the only woman in a huge group of isolated men is going to have its challenges. Goodness knows what we’re all going to be feeling after seven days of talking about sex, and no actual action.
Not that I’ve had any action for a while.
I know that women are supposed to love men in uniform, but after years of experiencing some of the most difficult situations, it’s hard for me to let down my defenses and accept the softer and more frivolous parts of life.
Allie seems like a combination of both. She’s pretty and funny, with a lightheartedness and humor that’s already settled into some of my cracks.
As the wind whips again, I ball my fists at my sides and release them, pushing the coiled tension out through my fingertips. When Allie turns to me and lowers her phone, I become immediately conscious that she might find my presence uncomfortable.
“Russell,” she says softly, her focus on my face before it drifts down my body. Instinctively, I stand straighter. “Everything alright?”
I nod, even though it’s not. I was stupid to volunteer for this interview. I was stupid to listen to my brother who thought it would be good for me to get away from everything that reminds me of the past, and meet some new people who might make the present and future less gray and paralyzing.
“I don’t think I’m right for this,” I say before I have a chance to evaluate how my words might sound or be received.
“You don’t want to take part in the interviews?” The disappointment on her face makes me feel like a fucking coward.
“I just think…I’m not like those guys up there.” I slide my hands into my pockets, grateful for my sunglasses and the shield they offer for my eyes.
“And you don’t need to be.” Allie shifts her feet on the sand, hitching her right hip higher and my eyes fixate on the narrowing of her waist and the flare of her curves.
“These questions you're going to ask…” I trail off, not sure how to articulate my reservations.
“We can start now,” she says softly. “I can start your interview here for a few minutes and you can see how you feel about it. I don’t want to lose you and I’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable about staying for the full seven days.”
I glance down the beach, spotting a family digging sandcastles a little way further along. It’s so quiet here. Isolated in a way I didn’t expect.
The waves crash loudly behind Allie as the thunder of my own blood races in my ears. I feel hot from the inside out, a furnace whose heat can’t be reduced by the wind and sea spray. Twelve weeks in a freezer couldn’t rid me of the heat of my constant bubbling uncertainty about living a life outside the military.
“We don’t even need to sit face to face when I ask questions. Why don’t we sit back to back?” Allie’s expression is so open and accommodating, but she has no idea how fucking uncomfortable it would make me to sit that way. Why the hell can’t I be like Jonas who doesn’t seem to have a shred of wariness about him, or Oliver, whose bone deep confidence oozes from every pore?
I’m about to tell her it’s better if I just leave now when she reaches out to touch my arm. The gentle press of her fingers hurts as much as it heals.
“I get that talking about this kind of thing is weird. When they gave me this assignment, I really didn’t know how I was going to handle it. But we're both adults and I’m sure that leaving before this thing is done won’t sit well with you. From the little time we’ve spent together, I can tell you’re a man who likes to get things done and who takes his commitments seriously. So why don’t we both look at this situation as a series of tasks that we both need to get done?”
My eyes drift from her earnest face to the sand between us. Even Allie’s feet are pretty and momentarily steal my concentration. When she turns to face away from me and drops to sit on the sand crossed legged, I feel like I’ve missed my chance to object.
Lowering myself to rest on the sand with Allie at my back doesn’t feel good. I like to be able to assess a situation and now I won’t be able to observe her mannerisms and reactions to what I’m saying. So I turn so I’m facing her back instead. At least this way, she can’t see me but I can see her.
“Do you mind if I record your answers so I can take notes from them later, or I can type on my phone, but it’ll be slower?”
“Recording’s fine,” I say gruffly.
“Okay.” Allie inhales a deep breath and blows it out softly, her nerves palpable in the air around us. She fiddles with her phone and then rests it on her toned thigh. “When did you realize you were above average in size?” she says. There’s a new huskiness to her voice that takes my mind off the black knot inside me and builds an awareness of Allie that makes my cock thicken. I lick my lips and flare my nostrils as my mind screams that this is fucking stupid and ridiculous, that I should stand and walk away. But the part of me that knows walking away will disappoint Allie wins over. I don’t want to make her feel bad about her job. I don’t want to hurt her feelings in any way.
“I guess just after puberty. Comments in the locker rooms.” I pick up sand, letting it trail between my fingers as the waves form enough background noise to quieten my internal monologue a little. “My first sexual experience didn’t go so well.”
“How so?” Allie asks.
“We were sixteen, and she was a virgin. We didn’t fit.”
“Fit?”
“Yeah. She…she couldn’t take what I had to give. Width is as much of an issue as length. Sometimes more.”
