“So you can spend more time IM-ing your boyfriend?” the coach had snapped.
Hannah didn’t have the heart to tell her coach that she didn’t have a boyfriend, and—as long as she was at West Point—probably never would.
It seemed ridiculous that while the world was on the brink of war, Hannah’s thoughts veered so often to guys, but she couldn’t help herself. Rooming with Avery during the spring semester had put a magnifying glass on Hannah’s chief worry: not a single guy had expressed an ounce of interest in her since she’d stepped foot on campus at West Point. Least of all, the one she wanted.
Ever since Colonel Bennett’s philosophy class, Tim Nesmith had been like the wind—blowing past, never knowing that he’d touched her. She’d see him in the library, poring over an Arabic textbook, refusing to look up from the page. In the fall, at home football games, cadets in the stands would point up at the sky while Tim parachuted with the rest of the skydiving team into the stadium. During Christmas dinner, held every year the week before cadets went home on break, a crew of cadets in Santa outfits had picked up a table off the floor, as five others holding evergreen branches climbed up and built a human Christmas tree on top. Sure enough, when Hannah turned to watch the spectacle, it was Tim, dressed as an angel, who crowned the tree. From that perch, he’d led the corps in a rousing rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” moving his arms like a conductor.
She couldn’t escape him, and yet he still hadn’t noticed her.
By April of her Yuk year, Hannah had given up all hope of having a date during the entirety of her college career. Basketball season had ended and Hannah had nothing to fill her newfound free time. A week earlier, in a striking role reversal, it had been Hannah on the bed in the fetal position.
Dani had just taken a seat in Hannah’s desk chair, snacking from a box of Cheez-Its, when Avery walked in from class.
“What’s with her?” she’d asked Dani, pointing at Hannah and dropping her backpack.
“Nervous breakdown number six of the semester,” Dani had said casually. “Standard issue.”
“I’ve told you a million times, Hannah, no one is ever going to ask about your GPA once we’re out of here.”
Hannah had rolled over and narrowed her eyes.
“It’s not about grades, Avery. It’s about . . .” She’d paused, then groaned. “Ugh. It’s about the two of you.”
Dani had laughed, pointing at herself as though she were completely innocent. “What did I do?”
“You’re always off with Locke,” Hannah had said, then pointed at Avery. “And you! There’s practically a line of guys outside your door every day, there to pay homage. Seriously. Have you checked lately? Someone’s probably out there right now.”
Avery had laughed, while Hannah pulled herself dramatically off the bed and stuck her head into the hallway. Dani chuckled and dug her hand back into the bag of Cheez-Its.
“She’s losing it,” Dani had said.
“Come on, Hannah. It’s not that bad.”
“Yes it is! This place is swarming with guys. I’ll never have odds like this again! And still . . . I haven’t been touched by a guy in two years. TWO YEARS! What is wrong with me?”
Avery raised an eyebrow. “Nothing is wrong with you. Maybe something’s wrong with them.”
In a flash, Hannah had crossed the room, lifted the window, and stuck her head into the balmy April air, looking down to the darkness of cadet area below. Around the concrete courtyard, the barracks squared off, every window lit up with golden lamplight.
“WHY WON’T ANYBODY DATE ME?” she’d screamed, her voice echoing off stone.
Someone walking across cadet area whistled up toward her.
“HELLO!” Hannah had shouted. “Hey! You! WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?”
Soon, all three girls were in hysterics on the floor, laughing.
When they’d wiped the tears from their eyes, Avery said, “Hannah, we can get you a guy, if it’s a guy you want.”
“She doesn’t want any guy,” Dani had said knowingly. “That’s the problem. It’s a specific guy.”
With a deep sigh, Hannah had nodded, dropping her head into her hands.
“So what’s his name?” Dani had prodded.
“I just have this feeling.”
Avery had let out an impatient groan. “Okay, okay. What’s his name?!”
“Tim Nesmith.” Hannah had fallen again on her bed, cradling her pillow against her face.
“The guy on the parachute team?” Avery had asked, scrunching her eyebrows together in surprise.
Wrangling the bag of Cheez-Its back into its box, Dani had wiped her hands against her black shorts and then slapped them together. “Hannah. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Tim was in my Beast squad. We’re like this.” She crossed her fingers tight.
Against her better judgment, Hannah had permitted a bubble of hope to rise in her chest and dropped the pillow from her face. “Really?”
“Yes.” Dani limped over to Hannah’s computer, and spoke with full confidence. “You and I both know I can make this happen.”
West Point’s event calendar populated the screen, teeming with possibilities—concerts at Eisenhower Hall, half-price tickets to Broadway shows in the city. But apparently, as Dani scanned the options, her eyes landed on a recurring meeting in Cullum Hall, scheduled by the Cadet Hostess.
While social etiquette was dying everywhere else in America, West Point had to ensure the nation’s future leaders didn’t embarrass themselves at a dinner with a VIP guest, or at a ball with a foreign dignitary. That’s why West Point kept their very own Emily Post on the payroll, also known as the Cadet Hostess. The hostess’s office offered frequent classes throughout the year, in table manners, chivalry, and decorum. On the docket for April were six weeks of ballroom dancing lessons—free for any cadet who wanted to participate.
Convinced that it was the perfect cover, Dani had sent a series of instant messages to Tim that night, each message fired off faster than the one before. Hannah had watched over Dani’s shoulder in horror.
BBALL4EVA: Tim.
TIMNESMITH66: Hey Dani. what’s up. long time no see.
BBALL4EVA: Hey—Locke and I are doing ballroom dancing lessons this semester—and I need one more guy to join our crew. You interested?
TIMNESMITH66: ballroom dancing?:-/
BBALL4EVA: tuesday nights in Cullum Hall. Six weeks.
TIMNESMITH66: six weeks?! wtf. i don’t know mcnalley . . . I’m not the greatest on a dance floor.
BBALL4EVA: even more reason to come.
BBALL4EVA: and before you go giving me some crap excuse, might I remind you that without me, you never would have made it through Beast.
TIMNESMITH66: that’s not exactly how I remember it.
TIMNESMITH66: who else is going?
BBALL4EVA: just us and my friend Hannah.
BBALL4EVA: She’s awesome. You’ll like her.
TIMNESMITH66: the tall girl you’re always with?
BBALL4EVA: possibly. I travel with a lot of tall girls. comes with the territory.
TIMNESMITH66: six weeks, huh?
BBALL4EVA: what else are you going to do on a Tuesday night??? Plus. You know Locke and I will make it a blast.
TIMNESMITH66: all right. I’ll do it.
BBALL4EVA: I’ll e-mail you the details. No backing out.
TIMNESMITH66: why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret this?
BBALL4EVA: NONSENSE. I’ve got you. It’s going to be great.
“I’m not going,” Hannah said now, her voice muffled by the pillow.
She had nothing to wear, let alone the confidence to make it through the night without puking. Dani, dressed in a V-neck T-shirt that exposed just the right amount of cleavage, dug through Avery’s trunk, pulling out more slinky dresses and tank tops.
“What about this?” she said, holding up a miniskirt.
“Oh my gosh, not that skirt,” Avery said, pulling it
back. “Bad high school memories.”
Dragging herself back to the mirror, Hannah tried another dress and held her hair off her shoulders to see if that helped at all. It was a bright red number that clung to her hips and waist obscenely. “Nope.” She dropped her hair. “Not gonna work. Plus,” she said, pointing at Dani, “why does she get to wear jeans?”
Dani opened her mouth to speak, but Avery held up a hand to stop her.
“Dani doesn’t think dancing with Locke is a date. And she’s barely off her crutches, so let’s give her a break, shall we?” She plunged her head deep into her trunk. “There are very few chances to look like a real girl around here, Hannah, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you walk out of here looking less than perfect.”
Hannah groaned. “I’m so screwed.”
“One can only hope,” Avery laughed.
Standing up, she pulled a cotton dress that tied at the waist from her trunk. Hannah assessed its maroon color, knee-length hem, and perfect cut—and gasped.
“Wow,” she said. “Give me that.”
DANI HAD ARRANGED to meet the boys on the flat stone walkway called the Apron, near General George S. Patton’s statue overlooking the Plain. The sky turned red, the final light of the day dying in a flash of beauty. Locke looked like he always did: shoulders broad, muscles bulging. The gap between his two front teeth conspired to make his hulking figure far less intimidating, Hannah thought. Next to him, Tim stood with his back turned to them, his hands stuffed in the pockets of a camel-colored jacket. He wore a white collared shirt and dark jeans paired with leather loafers. He looked like a Ralph Lauren model—casual and handsome. Locke pointed over Tim’s shoulder, and he turned, his face breaking into a sincere smile. Nearing the boys, Hannah inhaled the spicy scent of Tim’s after-shave and felt her stomach drop. Why does he have to smell so good?
“It’s about time!” Locke said to Dani. He checked his watch. “We’re going to be late.”
“Calm down,” Dani shouted back. Just as they began walking toward Cullum Hall, the streetlights flickered on, and Hannah looked up, grateful for the distraction from Tim’s gaze. Locke and Dani were already several paces ahead of them before Tim cleared his throat and stroked his chin.
“So, how’d she rope you into this?” he said. “Blackmail?”
“Oh yeah,” Hannah laughed. “You should see the dirt she has on me.”
“Well, I hope you’re ready to lead. I don’t know the first thing about dancing.”
“Where I come from, leading is the guy’s job.”
“Where are you from? Mayberry?”
“Austin.”
“Close enough.” He smiled.
She wanted to die. He’d just put his hand on her back, guiding her up the steps toward Cullum Hall. In response, all the blood in her body had rushed to that very spot. He dropped his coat on a hook outside the ballroom door.
“What about you? Where are you from?” Hannah asked, even though she already knew the answer. Dani had told her Tim had grown up on a farm in Maryland.
“California,” he said.
“Dani said you were from Maryland.”
“Then why’d you ask?” he said with a grin.
Hannah blushed.
“I was born in California, so I like to claim it,” added Tim. The dimple in his right cheek appeared as he smiled.
“So when did you move to Maryland?” asked Hannah.
Tim raised an eyebrow, as if to do the math. “When I was . . . let’s see . . . ten days old? My parents had to get special permission for me to fly on the plane because I was so little.” A moment passed, and then he explained, “I was adopted.”
At that moment, Hannah suddenly knew exactly why she’d been attracted to Tim in the first place. He had a certain confidence in the way he walked and talked that she wasn’t used to seeing in the South. And yet, since he’d been raised on a farm in Maryland, he had all the qualities that Hannah had grown to respect in a man, thanks to her father’s and grandfather’s examples. Hard work. Intensity. Determination. He was the perfect combination of the familiar and the mysterious, the relatable and the unknown. She wanted to step closer to him, and yet felt an equal desire to step away, for fear that he might sweep her up in a wave she couldn’t control. She tried to imagine what his birth mother must have felt, handing her child over to a stranger. And yet, she was grateful. Because of that brave woman, he was here. Loved by his adoptive parents into the kind of man that would attend West Point, even if he bucked the system every now and then. It all made sense. He made sense.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“Sorry,” she answered. “I was just wondering. Do you think you’ll try and find your birth parents someday?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it. I had a great family growing up. If I wonder about anything, it’s what it would have been like to grow up on the West Coast. I feel like there’s this surfer in me just dying to break out. But that’s enough about me. What about you?”
“Hm.” Hannah thought. Compared to his story, nothing about her seemed all that interesting. “I grew up in Texas. My grandfather went to West Point.”
“Is that why you came?”
“No. Actually he didn’t want me to come.”
“But you came anyway.”
Hannah smiled. “I came anyway.”
“Good for you,” he said, then asked with excitement, “Hey, what did you get for the summer?”
West Point had just handed out summer assignments. Hannah would only get one week at home, before reporting for Airborne School at Fort Benning, Georgia. After that, she’d return to West Point and lead plebes through basic training.
“I’ve got Airborne School. Then Beast Two. I get to walk plebes through the House of Tears.”
“You ever jumped out of a plane?”
“Not yet,” Hannah admitted. “But I’ve seen you do it. At the football games.”
He smiled broadly. “You’re going to love it. It’s terrifying. But the rush you get is incredible. Like you’re flying.”
“Are you ever afraid?”
Someone inside the ballroom clapped their hands loudly, so rather than answer her question, Tim offered her the crook of his arm.
“Believe it or not, I’m more afraid of what we’re about to do in there.”
She’d never been drunk before, but Hannah was certain this must be what it felt like. Warmth passed from his body to hers and she tried not to think too much about it. If she did, her hands might start sweating.
Cullum Hall boasted cherry floors and warm wooden beams that rose all the way to the ceiling. The ballroom looked almost candlelit, with sconces glowing against the wood and portraits of famous generals spaced evenly along the walls, like they were spying on the future. The parquet dance floor filled with cadets—upperclassmen laughed and whispered at the back of the hall—while Yuks like Tim and Hannah ventured toward the front. The instructor, a short, burly-looking man with a singsongy voice, clapped his hands, gathering the attention of the room.
“Okay, people!” he shouted over the din of voices. “Who’s ready?”
There was a lackluster hoot from around the hall.
“All right, fine! Act cool now. I’ll have you spinning like teacups at Disneyland before the end of the night.”
The instructor pointed toward the back, where a woman wearing loud pink lipstick turned a dial. Suddenly the room filled with the sounds of classical instruments. The instructor looked annoyed, then pumped his thumb in a downward motion, telling the woman to decrease the volume, which she promptly did.
“The waltz . . . ,” bellowed the instructor as he pranced through the room, making eye contact with each pair of dancers, “is about forbidden romance.”
The students giggled.
“Laugh all you want, but it’s true. If you’re uninterested in seducing your dance partner, I’d suggest you leave. Perhaps there are shoes that need shining back in the barracks.”
More laugh
ter. But at this point, Hannah knew, he’d gained the respect of the room.
“That’s what I thought.” The instructor bellowed over the soft hum of violins. “The waltz was the predecessor of rock and roll, if you will. Just imagine!” he gasped dramatically. “Men and women twirling on the dance floor so close together and so fast! How vulgar! How positively sinful! In those days, men and women weren’t even allowed in the same room together unchaperoned—”
“Sounds familiar!” a male voice behind Hannah shouted. It was Locke. Dani smacked him with her hand. The laughter in the room sounded like the ocean, coming in regular waves.
“Well then, I guess you don’t have to imagine.” The instructor grinned. “For the Austrians, the waltz was this sensual break from oppressive aristocratic rules . . . in three-quarter time. Now, each pair find a square!”
Tim and Hannah realized they were standing on top of a white square, which had been taped to the floor before their arrival. The instructor stopped just in front of them.
“Now, men, wrap your right arm around your partner’s back and give her a nice squeeze.”
Tim slipped his right hand between Hannah’s hip and arm, and pulled her in tight. Their bodies were so close, she could feel him breathing. His breath smelled minty, but as she’d expected, the rest of his body smelled like spice and cologne.
“Now, turn your faces to the left, and stand cheek to cheek.”
For a moment, Hannah felt a magnetism pull her closer and she thought she might collapse into him if she didn’t concentrate on holding herself upright. When the instructor glided away from them, they both broke the pose. Around the room, laughter spread until most couples had stepped away from each other.
“Not easy, is it?” the instructor said. “I’ve always said if we could harness sexual tension at the United States Military Academy we could power New York City for a century. Am I right?”
“This guy,” Locke whispered, rolling his eyes. He and Dani had sidled up to them, looking confident with their arms wrapped around each other. “And you said this is six weeks?”
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