by Claire Cain
“She is the same with blueberry muffins. I remember that one from when we were kids. And vanilla ice cream.” He took a sip of his coffee and watched me.
“True. But the vanilla ice cream isn’t my recipe. That’s yours.” I realized I was staring at him, staring at his hand wrapped around his coffee cup, and I looked up to see him still watching me. I felt my pulse kick up and willed my body not to get excited by the memory of stupid vanilla ice cream.
“I love that you guys have known each other for so long. It’s so sweet!” Ally couldn’t contain the exclamation, and Luke and I laughed quietly at her enthusiasm. Before we had to say anything else, the formal speeches began, so we all turned our attention to the podium.
As the night progressed, it became clear to me why Luke had been reluctant, but determined, to have a date. Every other captain, at least that I could tell, was there with a date. I didn’t know anything about rank, but he pointed out the two bars, essentially a vertical equals sign, on his shoulders and told me what it meant, so I kept an eye out for his fellows. In most cases, the women with his peers were wives, not just girlfriends, like Megan and Ally. I’d assumed he had single friends he spent time with, but his closest friends he’d introduced me to were all married, one engaged. Most of the younger soldiers were there with spouses as well. There were two female captains without dates, and I wondered if it was difficult to find partners as women in the military. Truly, everyone else had dates, and nearly everyone I was introduced to, regardless of rank, was married.
Despite my being not even a girlfriend, we had a fantastic time. Megan, Ally, and Cindy made me feel welcome at their table, and by the end of the night I felt like we were actively friends.
When the speech and awards were over, my wine glass was empty, and the emcee announced dancing would start soon. When the music cranked up to an obnoxious decibel, Luke leaned over and said, “I think if we just circulate for a few minutes and maybe dance a song or two, we can leave without being the first ones and I’ll have done my duty.”
When he spoke to me, he placed his hand on my leg, and I felt his touch burn its way through the midnight silk of my dress. I was sure I’d see a mark there later. I forced myself to keep my eyes forward despite the incredibly alluring feeling of his lips brushing against my skin as he spoke directly into my ear over the blaring music already playing. A few couples danced enthusiastically to something hip hop and impossible to dance to, and he stood up then and pulled me up with him, his hand moving to guide me on my bare back yet again.
It wasn’t the first time he’d placed his hand on my back, obviously, but I couldn’t get used to it. It felt intimate and sensual and not at all friendly. That was only because of my wardrobe choice, though. Right? I was chanting in my own mind that he had brought me as a friend, a functional date, and I needed to keep that in my thick skull, front and center. I felt the slightest buzz in my head from the wine I had—not much, but I hadn’t eaten all that much, either—just tasting things as we all talked over dinner, and then the horror that was dessert wasn’t filling, of course. I took a deep breath to ground myself as I walked with him.
He led me around to a few different tables to chat, doing his duty, and then led me to the floor just as the song shifted to something melodic and slow. I let out a breath, mentally thanking the DJ for letting me escape certain embarrassment by attempting to dance to hip hop in a ball gown (or at all).
He steered me with the hand on my back and pulled me in so I was practically crushed up against him, his other hand taking mine and linking our fingers together. I rested my free hand on his shoulder and tried to keep breathing and not fall over. Luke Waterford up close like this, in his uniform, pulling me that close to him—sweet caramel cheesecake, it felt decadent.
“Thank you for coming. This has actually been fun,” he said, his breath whispering near my ear. My temple rested against his jaw. I relaxed a little in his arms as he spoke, trying to remember this was just Luke. My longtime friend Luke, just chatting with his friend Alex at a work function. Right?
“It has been fun. I like getting to peek inside your world a little,” I said with a smile he couldn’t see. I meant that. The Army was fascinating and so different from my experience with corporate events life. Everything was at once more formal and much more personal. And that feeling that everything had a purpose or meaning behind it was completely alluring.
“Most of the Army isn’t at all like this, but I’m glad you’ve gotten a taste of it,” he said, guiding us around the little dance floor, steering around other couples deftly.
Of course he could dance. Of course.
Just then the young lieutenant who’d made the toast to the ladies rammed into me, and Luke pulled me closer.
“Holder, get a grip,” Luke said in a low voice.
“Sorry, sir. Feeling good! And daaaaaaamn your date is fine!” The lieutenant’s date covered his mouth and jerked him away, stumbling and laughing right along with him. She seemed to be having as good a time as he was.
“Looks like he’s enjoying himself,” I said with a smile and pulled back just a touch. Not that I didn’t enjoy being plastered to Luke, but I might combust if I stayed there too long.
“I think getting drunk at a ball is an unwritten rite of passage for lieutenants, though once it’s not you, it’s incredibly annoying.”
“Yes. Kids these days,” I said, lightly shaking my head. I ran my fingers over the stitching on his light blue shoulder board and thought again how appealing the uniform was. Each detail was so purposeful. I didn’t know what each element meant, though I knew those little boards indicated rank. The light blue color was repeated in a cord that ran from under his arm to over his shoulder on his right side—the Infantry cord, he’d called it, indicating his job as an infantryman. Luke had told me the little yellow stripes on one of his sleeves each signified six months of time deployed. He had five of them.
I held on to him as we danced a minute more, and the song was done. Another slow one followed, and he pulled back just enough so he could look in my eyes and said, “Want to do one more?” as though I would say no to being right there, surrounded by him.
“Sure. We can pretend we’re at prom.” I grinned, trying to focus on something other than how comfortable and yet insanely uncomfortable it felt for him to be holding me, his right hand resting on my bare mid-back, his other hand clasping mine.
“Ah prom. I almost died when I saw you at prom with John Allen.” He squeezed my hand and cleared his throat.
“What? You went to prom?” I didn’t remember seeing him. I had actively looked for him because I knew he’d look adorable in a tux. I’d been anxious the whole night to see him, to see who he brought.
“I did. I actually…” He stopped a moment, shook his head slightly and then looked at me with chagrin. “I wanted to ask you, but by the time I got myself psyched up to do it, John had already asked. So, I decided I would go and at least get one dance with you.” He looked at me, waiting for my response, which was already playing on my lips. I couldn’t help the small glowing feeling I felt for my eighteen-year-old self.
“But you never came and found me. I never even saw you.” I hadn’t seen him, and I had been looking from the moment we walked in to the building. I had hoped he would ask me, praying maybe he’d reappear in my life in some romantic gesture years after we’d stopped talking, but John was a good friend, and I knew he wouldn’t try anything crazy or expect me to go to a hotel with him after or any nonsense like that, so I’d said yes. At that point in the year I hadn’t even seen Luke in months except in passing in the neighborhood, and although I’d hoped, I didn’t believe he would show up. So, I said yes to John.
“Yeah, well I got there, and I saw you guys dancing, and I just couldn’t do it. I remember thinking you looked too pretty. I mean, I’m sure pretty wasn’t what my high school inner monologue called it, but I was totally paralyzed, and you seemed so comfortable and happy. I just couldn’t do it.”
He pulled me an inch closer, if it was possible, and I felt the heat of his body through his suit, through my dress. “So, you’re right. This one’s for you, eighteen-year-old Luke.”
“I should have told John no.” I looked at him, hoping he’d understand how much I had wanted him back then.
“It’s probably best you didn’t. That you went with him,” he said quietly, but before I could ask him why he thought so, the song ended. “You ready to go?”
“Sure,” I said with a nod. He released me but took my hand and pulled me with him.
“Can you wait here for me, for just a sec?” he asked as we approached our table.
“Of course,” I said and sat in my chair for a minute to give my feet a rest. My heels were comfortable, but any shoe other than tennis shoes were uncomfortable after that long. Cindy, the woman who sat nearest to me, was beaming at me.
“I’m so glad you came with Luke. We love him. It’s about time he found someone,” and she smiled over at her husband. She hadn’t joined me and the other girls in the bathroom, so she wasn’t privy to my awkward explanation of our friendship.
“Oh… uh, yeah. He’s great. We’ve been friends since we were kids,” I said, crossing my legs and twirling my clutch’s little leather strap handle around my finger. I took a sip of water and watched as Luke shook hands with the people at the head table across the room.
“How lovely. What a great love story,” she said, leaning over to her husband to say something. I sat there, silenced, very glad Luke wasn’t sitting next to me to hear her comment and relieved she didn’t seem to require a response.
“Isn’t it though?” Megan added and looked at me meaningfully. Luke walked up then, and I shook off the unsettled feeling Cindy’s comment had created and stood. I gave Megan a quick glare of disapproval, and she laughed at me.
“Ready?” he asked and held out his hand.
“Absolutely,” I said and took it. “It was so nice meeting you all.” I smiled at them.
“I’ll call you girl, we’ll get together,” Megan said, and I knew she would. This woman, I could tell, was a woman of her word. I gave another small wave and heard James and Jose say “Luke” and “See ya, man” and Grant say “Sir, have a good evening” and then we were off.
“Sorry I left you there for a minute. I needed to give my regards to the colonel. I figured if I left you here it’d give me an easy exit strategy instead of us both having to endure a long, awkward story neither of us wanted to hear,” he said as he pulled my hand up and placed it in the crook of his arm. I held on, enjoying the firm roundness of his bicep underneath his jacket and shirt.
Ok, don’t think about his biceps.
On the drive home, we talked over all of the events of the night, and he explained who some of the people we met were. He mentioned the people he worked with and those he spent most of his time with. I asked him about a few of his friends.
“What about Sergeant Harrison? He seems so severe. Where was his wife?” He was one of the first people Luke introduced me to during the mingling section. He wasn’t at our table, presumably since he was there without a date.
“Jake’s not married. He’s a friend though. We spend a fair amount of time together even though it’s technically fraternization, mostly at the gym. We’re some of the only older guys who aren’t married so I guess it sort of fell that way and we don’t talk about it at work,” he explained. “He’s a man of few words.”
“I can tell. What about that stern looking man—super tall? The one at the end of the receiving line? I know you told me his name…”
“Major Flint. Yeah, that guy… if I have job stress, he’s the reason. I think I told you he’s the XO—the executive officer. It’s like the right-hand man for the commander. And he is a hard ass if there ever was one. I think because he’s miserable he expects all of us to be too.” Luke shook his head but kept his eyes on the road.
“That’s a shame. I wonder why he’s miserable. I guess he’s not married?”
“No, he’s not. Might be divorced. Of course, there’s always rumors about him being gay because he isn’t married, but who knows. No one knows anything about him other than that he is a demanding asshole and if he’s not being an asshole then he’s awkward.” Luke’s voice was surprisingly hard. “Sorry. He laid into me last week about something, and I guess I’m still annoyed.”
“Understandable,” I said, not wanting him to feel like he should censor himself around me.
We continued chatting until he pulled up in front of my place. He parked but didn’t turn off the car. I felt a surge of nervousness shoot through me.
“You should come in. At least change your clothes before you drive all the way back,” I said, twisting my fingers together with the strap of my purse. He turned off the car and got out and met me by my door before I was out all the way. Once again, his hand was on my back, guiding me up to my front door. I was thankful he was coming inside so we could avoid the very loaded doorstep scene, although of course, his coming inside felt heavier. I opened the door and there we were, inside my apartment. I flipped on the living room light.
Reality crashed in. We’d just been on an actual date—maybe friends in title, but it was still a real date. I was introduced to his friends, his boss, his coworkers. We danced. I felt a connection with his friends, and even with the whole atmosphere. Now there we were, in my apartment, alone.
Chapter Ten
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, more like croaked, setting down my keys and flipping on the kitchen lights as I walked to the fridge. “I have water, wine… and milk. Not a huge selection.” I felt my stomach tie itself in knots of anticipation. I opened the fridge and grabbed the water pitcher, then pulled open a cabinet to find two glasses.
“Water, please,” he said, and stepped toward the kitchen, and kept coming until he stopped and leaned against the side of the counter, watching me pour our water.
I filled one glass and handed it to him as I picked up my own glass and brought it to my lips. He kept his eyes on mine while he took a sip of water, then took a step closer to me and set it down. For a moment, we just stood there, and I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I might have even been a little lightheaded.
This was ridiculous.
But looking at him standing there in my kitchen in his dress blues was a special kind of torture. I held on to the edge of the counter because I could tell my ability to not reach out and grab him was failing. He slid his hand along the edge of the bar and stopped just short of my left hand.
I heard Megan’s voice in my head.
Honey, that man wants you. And I do not mean in a friendly way.
He was still looking at me—I could feel it. I was looking down at my hands, unable to speak or meet his eyes. I felt like I was shaking, my whole body humming and aware of him. Finally, I couldn’t resist the pull of his stare and I looked up. I looked back into what felt like pools of blue flame and opened my mouth to speak but had no idea what I was going to say. Before words could form, his hand covered my own, brushed up my arm, came to rest on my shoulder, and he pulled me toward him just a little so I was facing him. He let go of my shoulder and slid his hand from my side to my back as he stepped closer. The feeling of his warm hand on my bare back again made me shiver.
He closed the distance between us and kissed me, his lips gentle for only a moment until my arms wrapped around his neck. One hand in my hair, one sliding up and down my back torturously slowly, he tilted my head and kissed me and kissed me and kissed me until, if you’d asked me, I couldn’t have spelled my own name. He was holding me close, pressed against his uniform, and his hands slid over the smooth silk of my dress in every direction. I pushed back just a minute to catch my breath and he took a step back from me, breathing like he’d just finished a race. He looked around like he’d forgotten where he was and looked at me with an unreadable expression.
“I should change my clothes and get out of your hair,”
he said, his voice gruff and jarring in my silent apartment.
“The bathroom’s just there down the hall,” I said, pointing the way, still recovering from the kiss and congratulating myself for not saying, But I like you in my hair and attacking him.
He turned and walked to the dining table and grabbed a small bag I hadn’t noticed he’d brought in. He disappeared into the bathroom and I let out a breath. “Holy crap,” I said to myself, and then to Lemon, who was unmoved by the full-on but all-too-brief make out session he’d just unwittingly been a party to.
I changed in my room while he used the bathroom. It was a relief to take off the dress. Even though I felt good in it, it was a lot of work to stand up straight and keep my stomach sucked in and shoulders back and meet new people and be all sparkly and date-like. The feeling of his hands smoothing over my bare back was addicting and the light silk of the dress made it all too easy to imagine what it might be like to, say, not be wearing the dress, so it was time to ditch it or jump an irrevocable hurdle from which our friendship might never recover.
It felt like I could let myself relax a bit as I pulled on my tank top and boxer shorts. Out of the dress and feeling more grounded, more like myself, I came out of my room and padded down the hall to grab my water and found him in the kitchen already. He was talking to Lemon who was still perched on top of the fridge like a feline overlord surveying his territory. Luke turned to me and his eyes flashed with frustration before the look cleared and he spoke.
“We have an agreement, me and Lemon. I just think you should know that.”
I laughed at his very serious face. “I’m so glad,” I said. I picked up my glass so I would have something to do with my hands and walked around the bar to the couch.
He’d changed into jeans and a white t-shirt. Considering he had just been in his formal uniform, you’d think it would be impossible for him to be more attractive, but somehow, he’d done it. He looked relaxed, and seeing him walk into my living room barefoot was nothing short of totally pleasing. The fact that I could tell he was decidedly not relaxed made me nervous. His hair looked ruffled and his eyes a little wild—he seemed caged, and I could see tension in his shoulders from where I sat.