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“Order whatever you’d like,” Aero said softly, peering at her over his menu.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I can pay,” she insisted.
He pressed his lips into a firm line but didn’t argue. He’d deal with it later.
The waitress appeared. Aero ordered himself a beer, and Sam chose a glass of red wine.
“I’ll be right back with those,” the waitress said, smiling a bit too enthusiastically at Aero, who ignored her completely.
“I think I’m gonna have the chicken,” Sam murmured, setting her menu aside and watching him.
He said nothing, just stacked his menu on top of hers and stared back at her.
“So you’re friends with Zed?” Sam broke the silence, needing to say something and opting for something shallow and easy.
“You could say that.”
“And you’re part of the Iron Dragons,” Sam continued, trying to coax him into talking.
“I’m a prospect,” Aero corrected.
“What does that mean?”
Aero explained the process and how he was coming up on a year as a prospect.
“They’ll decide in a few months if they want to patch me in,” he said, flattening his palms on the table. “Then I’ll be a full member of the club.
“I’m sure they will,” Sam said, looking at his hands. They were nice, with thick fingers and strong wrists. His nails were short and neat, with evidence of calluses on his fingers and palms. Had she ever admired a man’s hands? She didn’t think so.
“Why do you say that?” Aero asked, curious about what she’d say.
“You seem nice.” She mimicked his stance and rested her palms on the table. His hands dwarfed hers. Boldly, she slid her hands toward him, keeping her palms flat against the wood, until the tip of her middle finger touched his.
Aero jumped slightly at the contact but watched intently as she shifted her hands, lining them up so her fingers were between his.
“Aero—” Sam began, feeling zaps of electricity jumping between his skin and hers, but the waitress returned with their drinks, and she sat back, severing the connection and taking a sip of her wine.
They ordered their meals and, once again, were left alone.
“What made you wanna be a teacher?”
“I like kids,” Sam smiled. “I wanna make a difference for them. I had a lot of great teachers growing up. I wanted to be just like them.”
Aero’s lips twitched into a smile. He could see the passion in her eyes. Sam was meant to be with children, to teach them, and to care for them. He wanted to ask if she had dreams of being a mother, easily picturing her cradling tiny babies and holding a toddler by their chubby hands, laughing and teaching her children, but he shook off the thought and sipped his beer.
“Why’d you join the military?” Sam asked, and he paused.
It was a perfectly reasonable question, especially in relation to what he had asked, but Aero wasn’t prepared. He’d been so consumed by his thoughts, wondering why Sam was single, why she hadn’t married and had a family, and why she was seemingly all alone, to anticipate it.
“I wanted to serve my country, to travel, to be part of something bigger than myself,” Aero said, giving the generic response many soldiers give. That was all true, but he left out the part where he didn’t know what to do with his life post-high school and knew joining the military would make his parents proud. As the only son, Aero knew there were certain expectations leveled against him from a young age. The military had been the only logical step for him.
“Why security?” Sam asked, sipping her drink and returning her hand to the table, palm up.
“I wanna make people feel safe,” Aero said, his voice low as he looked at her hand. He wanted to rest his hand on top of hers. The thought was both intriguing and unsettling.
“That’s a nice goal.” Sam watched his body language, gauging his comfort level before moving any further. She wanted to see if he would hold her hand.
“Mhm.” Aero felt his hand twitch. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pressed his palm against hers. The contact made panic flutter in his chest, but it faded when her hand didn’t move.
