by S. J. Sylvis
I glanced over at JoJo and Ryan who were both squeezing their mouths together, keeping their laughter at bay.
“Wait, what? A thing? I didn’t know.”
Jett started to back his chair away from the table, but I smacked my hand on his leg, right on the spot that I’d spilled my wine.
“He and I are not a thing, Jett,” I said, staring daggers into Luke’s forehead.
Luke’s gaze traveled down to my hand on Jett’s leg, and then he snapped his attention back to me. His jaw was clenched and his gaze narrowed. Hah!
Unfortunately, I wasn’t the strongest person in the world, because Jett casually got up anyway, letting my hand fall to my side.
“Thanks, man,” Luke said. “Cammie loves to play tricks on people…here, go take my seat.”
My mouth was still open as I watched Luke point to his table. He slapped Jett on the back when he walked away, and Jett didn’t even look back in my direction. He couldn’t have gotten away faster if he’d tried.
“I hate you,” I spat when Luke sat down beside me.
He cheeks widened, showcasing that cunning smile. I reached over and pinched his thigh as hard as I could. He only laughed, and then I resorted to pouting like a five-year-old with my arms crossed over my chest, fists clenched.
JoJo and Ryan turned their backs on me to have their own conversation, and I wanted to pinch them, too.
I wanted to pinch (or punch) everyone in this room.
“You know…” Luke’s low voice tickled my bare shoulder when he bent to speak to me. “Crossing your arms like that makes your boobs look even better…”
I quickly removed my arms and hastily grabbed my wine, downing the entire glass in one large gulp.
I was two seconds away from saying something inappropriate to him when General Siekman cleared his throat over the microphone. I stopped moving instantly, and JoJo quickly put her hand on my lap and gave me a warm smile.
“It’s going to be okay…” she whispered, and I could feel Luke watching us. The entire table was. A few more of our friends, including Daniel, sat down, and they all gave me the same remorseful look, which only made me gulp louder.
I was tough. I always had been. I was once told that to be a nurse, you had to have a thick skin. You had to be strong, and you had to be capable of turning your feelings off. But tonight, I wasn’t feeling very strong. In fact, I felt anything but. My fingers started tingling, and my breathing started to pick up its pace with each word that fell out of the general’s mouth.
I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t sit here and be okay while he talked about my dead brother.
About my dead best friend.
My heart thumped loudly beneath my ribcage, and in spite of the wine, I felt completely jittered and unrelaxed. My breaths were coming in short spurts, and when the lights went dim to showcase the short video the Marine Corps had put together, I stood up quickly, almost knocking the table off balance.
I knew people were staring, but I didn’t care. I pushed my chair back and squeezed past the few tables that stood between me and the door.
I mumbled a “sorry” here and there, but I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
The second I opened the door, I was blinded by the entry hall’s bright lights shining. I tried not to focus on the distant sound of the video as I leaned my huffing back against the gold, papered wall. I thought back to nursing school, where they’d taught us about panic attacks and how to talk someone through one.
I was drawing a blank. I couldn’t remember.
I could remember the fucking Pythagorean theorem, but I couldn’t fucking remember how to calm myself down in a panic attack.
My chest was slowly squeezing the life out of me, and my entire body tingled as a wave of heat coursed throughout.
“Jesus Christ. Get yourself together,” I huffed, shutting my eyes tightly.
Talk about embarrassing. This was embarrassing. More embarrassing than when I walked in on my ex sleeping with a blow-up doll. This moment landed right above the blow-up doll incident and right under that time in eighth grade when I’d ran right into a revolving door in front of my entire school—that was mortifying.
“Cammie?” A soothing voice came from the left as I took another deep breath, still squeezing my eyes shut.
“What are you doing out here, Luke?” I asked, but my voice was all breathy—and not in the good, sexy way either.
He ignored my question. “You alright?”
I didn’t answer him right away. I tried my hardest to find every distraction possible to keep my mind off what had just happened in there. And sadly, nothing had even happened. I’d bailed before anything was even said.
Distractions. Think of distractions.
The feeling of the wallpaper along my exposed back. Yes, that’s good. What else? That delicious scent coming from the man beside me. Ah, what is that? I took a big whiff of the air and heard a rumbling chuckle.
My eyes snapped open in an instant.
I just smelled him. I. Just. Smelled. Luke.
“I’m gonna let that slide, since you’re having a difficult time right now…” he teased, and I quietly let out a laugh.
“You smell good,” I whispered.
“I know.”
I finally looked over at his smug smile and couldn’t help but allow my grin to follow.
We stood there, side by side for a few moments, pretending we didn’t hear the ceremony going on inside the large ballroom. I winced when I heard the speaker say Alex’s name and averted my eyes to stare at the red, carpeted floor.
“Are you going to get in trouble for ditching out on the ceremony?” I asked, while still keeping my eyes trained on the floor.
“Nah,” he said, propping himself against the opposite wall.
I narrowed my eyes as I brought them up to his face.
“My commanding officer will understand. I gotta take care of my girl…” His cheek lifted on one side, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re relentless, Luke. I was totally ready to have a good time with Jett…” I growled.
“Oh, come on Cammie.” Luke crossed his arms against his chest, and the medals on his uniform jingled.
“Come on what?” I questioned.
“You and I both know that you would rather be here with me than with Broker…”
My stomach dipped. “Whatever.”
“Good comeback, Doc.”
I scowled, ready to come up with something else to say to him, but he interrupted me. “At least I can admit it.”
I gave him dirty look. “Admit what?”
“That I want you.”
Hold the fucking phone. What?
I stuttered, “Wai—what?” I crossed my arms after I pushed off the wall. “Luke, you have a different girl at your house, like, every week. You don’t want me.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I haven’t had a girl at my house for quite a while now.”
I repeated myself, “You don’t want me, Luke.” He doesn’t.
He scoffed. “Yeah, just like you don’t want me.”
I grimaced. “I don’t!” Even I could hear the distress in my voice. I couldn’t even fool myself; how could I expect to fool him?
“If that’s what you have to keep telling yourself…”
I ignored him and walked over to an empty chair and slowly sank down in it, literally afraid my tight dress would rip if I made any fast movements. Luke strode over and sat right beside me, placing his arm around the back of my chair.
No words were spoken the entire time we sat there, but the atmosphere was definitely filled with our swirling thoughts. Both of our tense postures clouded the attraction and lust swimming between our bodies, making it evident to us and no one else.
I wanted him.
He wanted me.
Now, which one of us would cave first?
Thirteen
The guest speaker only talked for mayb
e fifteen more minutes before the Marine Corps band’s musical talent filled the ballroom and the ceremony ended. The band members exited through the doors, one by one, marching with their instruments and flags.
It only took seconds for JoJo to swarm out of the room, right behind them, with her gold, chiffon dress swaying behind her.
“Cammie, are you okay?” she asked as she rushed over and hugged me tightly.
“I’m fine. A little embarrassed, but fine.”
Luke stood up beside us and walked back into the ballroom without another glance in my direction. I watched him through the open doors as he talked to who I assumed was his commanding officer. They shook hands, and then their glances reached mine. I quickly turned my eyes back to JoJo and Ryan, who apparently had been talking to me the entire time.
“Wait, what?” I said innocently. “Sorry, I zoned out.”
JoJo cocked an eyebrow but thankfully didn’t pester me. “I said that if you wanted to leave early, I could take you home and come back and get Ryan in a few?”
The thought of going home right now was so relieving that I wanted to cry, but I wasn’t about to take this night away from JoJo. She’d had to miss out on last year’s ball with Ryan because he was deployed. Plus, I could not let her perfectly applied makeup and beautiful, gold gown go to waste just because I was being a baby.
“No, it’s fine. I think I may just walk. It’s only a few blocks to my house. I’ll be fine.”
“What? You can’t walk, Cammie!” she pleaded. “You’re wearing five-inch heels.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re three inches, relax. My feet can handle it.”
“I’ll take you home,” Luke said as he walked over to us.
“No way.” I looked at his face and for a second, I could see through his armor. He could be sweet when he wanted to be. He could be caring and sweet and…wait a second.
“I would have had a ride home, but someone made my date bail…” I glared at Luke and he laughed out loud. He thought he was so funny.
“Seriously, Luke. What are you, an alpha male? Jett bailed on me within seconds…”
Now that the hard part of the ceremony was over and I no longer felt as if I was going puke my guts out, I started to feel a little hurt that Jett had just ditched me like that. Was I really that bad of a date?
Maybe it was me. Oh my God, I think I just had an epiphany—it was me!
Luke started, “Well…” I glanced back over at him as a huge smile formed on his face. “I’m Jett’s boss, so I kind of played my cards right.”
My mouth gaped. “You tyrannical bastard...”
Everyone was laughing, but I was being totally serious. He was despicable, completely and utterly borderline beautiful. Wait, what?
Before I could protest, Luke softly grabbed my elbow with his hand and started to usher me outside. I looked back at JoJo and she winked while tossing me my clutch, which she must have grabbed off the table for me. I mouthed, “I hate you!” and she blew me a kiss. Ryan looked amused as he escorted her back into the ballroom.
I stopped before we could get any further away from the building. “Wait. Let me go apologize to General Siekman for bailing. It was rude.”
“I already told him you said sorry, Doc. They understand.”
I looked up at Luke’s face, and mine softened. I feebly ran my hand down my cheek and murmured, “Oh, thanks.”
I wasn’t really sure how much longer I could fight the fact that I wanted him. I wasn’t really sure how much longer I could pretend that I hated him.
Because I didn’t.
Not even a little bit.
He gave me whiplash. He could be so snarky and rude, spouting off insults that drove me crazy, but then he could soften in the blink of an eye…showing me that he cared, showing me that he had a heart, a really big, loving heart.
During the entire drive to my house, which was maybe three minutes, I watched as Luke’s virile hand grabbed his gear shift. I rolled down the passenger window the second we took off in the direction of our street, because I needed air. I needed a cold shower and a reality check. You would think the pain of Alex’s death anniversary tomorrow would be enough of a reminder for me not to get involved with Luke—for us to just stay friends and nothing more. But seeing him in his uniform, being so compassionate and caring, and then the way his hand so effortlessly handled the gear shift…I wanted him.
Scratch that. I needed him.
When we stopped, I all but jumped out of the passenger seat, thankful that my dress didn’t shred from the jerking movement, and walked as fast as I could up to my door. I hurriedly grabbed my keys out of my clutch and had the door open within seconds.
I was prepared to shut the door on Luke’s face and yell a “thanks” through the peephole, but he was inside my house faster than I was. He bypassed me, as if he’d known I was going to try to shut him out.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked.
“Hanging out?” he answered.
“Luke, no. Don’t you have to go back to the ball? Aren’t you the designated driver for all the other guys?”
Please Lord, make him leave. Make. Him. Leave.
“Yeah, but they’re just gonna call when they’re ready. The ball is so stuffy when you’re not drinking. I figured I could hang with you until I had to go back.” He didn’t wait for my answer as he reached up and unbuttoned his navy dress jacket. My mouth went dry as I watched his fingers move gracefully, releasing each button slowly. So slowly. It was like watching Magic Mike. I felt like this was a striptease, and all he was doing was taking off his jacket.
Once it was off, he placed it around the back of one of my barstools and I was bombarded with arousing thoughts. My eyes scanned down to his bulging biceps peeking just beneath his tight, white undershirt, and when I got the courage to look back up at him, his eyes were dancing with mirth.
It didn’t help matters that none of the lights were turned on. The shadows of the trees swayed on the walls from the cool night breeze, and it was so quiet that you could hear pins drop.
“Why didn’t you take a date to the ball?” I questioned, trying to avert my attention elsewhere.
He shrugged.
“Couldn’t find anyone?” I teased.
He looked around the kitchen for a moment before his face landed back on mine. “I didn’t think it was appropriate. It might send the wrong message.”
My eyebrows dipped. “Like what?”
“That I want something more. A commitment.”
I nodded my head slowly. “Not a commitment kind of guy?”
He said in a monotone voice, “Not anymore…” Then he stopped himself for a beat before continuing. “Well, unless it’s to the right girl.”
He quickly looked away before bringing his eyes back to mine. They were full of something; I just couldn’t figure out what.
“What kind of girl?” I peeped.
“The kind that doesn’t cheat on people.” His brow furrowed and my head jerked a little. Has he been cheated on? “The kind that doesn’t jump right into bed for a man they’ve just met…” I crooked an eyebrow. So, like every girl he’d been with in the last month?
“I know exactly what I want, Cammie.” My name rolled off his tongue in such a way that I felt it all the way to my soul. I knew in that small window of a moment, I wanted to be that girl.
I opened my mouth to prod him further, but then I stopped at the last second. I zeroed in on his hands that were deftly taking off his belt. My eyes widened and I felt the need to look away. I knew he was just taking it off because it was heavy, but my God, I almost melted to the floor.
“I—I,” I stuttered. “I’m going to go and…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I had to move and I had to move fast.
The second I was in my room, I leaned over my dresser, placing my hands on the edge. I had to get myself together. I’d had so many emotions flow through my body tonight that I couldn’t quite figure out what the hell I was doing. I knew I
wanted Luke, sexually that is. Jesus, look at him. He was a walking billboard for sex. He oozed it, and he was so masculine, and his cologne was so mouthwatering that I wanted to lick him. But he was off limits. I had set this hard rule of not dating a Marine for a reason.
I shook my head as I reached over and flicked the lamp on. My eyes found the one photo that I allowed to stay in my room. It was of Alex during his last deployment in Afghanistan. He stood inside a cave, alone, wearing the beige and brown, camouflage uniform with his giant helmet and heavy flack on his chest. His smile was so bright and genuine that it made my heart hurt. A harsh pain slashed right through me.
In the photo he was pointing to a small piece of writing that I could tell he had written by the way my name was in all block capital letters. On the dirty crumbling cave wall, he’d scrawled, “Cammie is lame.”
He was always teasing me. I laughed the day I saw it. He had attached it to a handwritten letter that he sent. My brother usually emailed, but occasionally he’d write me a letter if computers weren’t available. That tiny Polaroid picture of him pointing to a message he had written to me in a dingy, dark cave in Afghanistan was the last piece I had of him.
He had died four days later.
And I’d never been quite the same.
My attention left the photo as I heard a rattling sound in the distance, and I recognized it as my fridge. I yelled out into the hallway leading to the kitchen, “Don’t make yourself comfortable, Luke! Get out of my fridge!”
He yelled back, “I’m hungry! I missed the dinner portion of the ball!”
I mumbled under my breath, while trying to reach behind my dress for the zipper, “Your house is literally a couple yards away; go eat your own food.”
“What was that?” he said, now at my door, I jumped back to glare at him once again. It was becoming a reoccurring thing: me glaring, him grinning.
“Go away,” I said, still reaching for the zipper.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked, pointing to the picture that I’d half-laid on the dresser.
I pushed it back quickly, so it didn’t fall to the ground.