He inhaled sharply, like my attraction to him had been some secret. Yeah right. I’m pretty sure my body threw out “screw me now” signals the minute he walked into a room, even when I was angry with him. Hell, perversely, especially when I was angry with him.
The siren wailed again, and I jumped, despite the exhaustion pummeling me.
“An hour to go,” I muttered, looking at my iPad.
“Relax and try to get some sleep.”
“Like there’s a chance of that.” But he tucked the comforter up to my chin and drew me closer, so my head rested on his chest.
“Just try. Some of us have to get up for work in the morning.” His tone was light and teasing, so I didn’t jump his case about giving me shit.
I yawned, feeling my body betray me and start to shut down like he’d flipped some magic Sam-sleep button. “I’m glad we can be friends.” Sleep slurred my words.
“Me, too.”
Sleep claimed me quickly, my body and emotions both run into the ground with exhaustion. His heartbeat filled my head and kept the nightmares at bay, but not the weird dreams. No, because I dreamed he kissed my forehead and lingered.
Chapter Seven
Grayson
My heart pounded time with the ticking on my watch. Thirty-seven questions to go, and thirteen minutes to do them in.
Stop thinking about time and concentrate on the questions.
I took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly while I read the next question.
If it becomes apparent that TGT will exceed _____°C (701) or _____°C (701C) before NG idle speed (______% ____ ______) is attained.
I read it twice, slowing down and willing the question to make sense and the answer to come to mind. I made it through Primary, I could do this. 869, 851, 63, or more. I filled in the answers and moved on, taking only as much time as physically necessary to fill out the blanks. You’re not moving fast enough.
My grip on the pen was almost painful, and my throat closed with every minute that ticked by, until my quick math told me there was no way I’d finish in time.
Fuck! The timer blared on my cell phone, and I silenced it with a quick swipe. I slammed the edge of my fist onto the wooden table, and my phone fell over from where I’d had it balanced against my coffee cup. Sixty-seven questions answered. Thirteen more to go. Those thirteen meant the difference between flying the Apache and getting kicked out of flight school in ten days on the first day of Apache training.
I set the timer to zero and hit start, then went back to the questions. I stuck to method, reading each question twice, making sure I understood what it really said and not just what my brain translated, and then answered.
“Hey, you okay? I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a temper tantrum.” Jagger checked in as he opened the door to the tiny private office where I was working.
“Yep. Studying.” This was all so easy for him and his photographic memory. If I didn’t really care about the guy I’d fucking hate him.
“We still have two weeks until the course starts. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide in the janitor’s closet to take practice tests.”
“Ten days. A mop bucket does not make it a janitor’s closet. And yes, I do.”
“Stop harassing Masters,” Josh called from the hallway. “He’s got more work ethic in his finger than you have in your whole body, Jagger.”
Jagger smirked. “True story. Half day, you up for lunch?”
I looked at the time on my phone. 11:30. Shit, I’d been in here for two hours already on three different tests. “Yeah, give me a couple minutes.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Second-choice Carter called out. He’d been our class leader through Primary, and as much of a West Point douche bag as he’d been, he ended up giving his Apache slot to Jagger, so I couldn’t hate him, either. As long as he kept a healthy distance from Sam, we’d keep the arrangement.
I was getting really sick of having to like people lately.
“Sure,” Jagger answered with a fake smile. Given the fact that the dude was Paisley’s ex, he handled it pretty well. Her grace was rubbing off on him.
“Right. Lunch settled. If we only have a half day today, then I’m studying. Get out,” I said, turning the timer back on and settling into the rest of the test.
“Always a pleasure chatting, Grayson.” Jagger laughed and shut the door.
Seventeen minutes later, I finished with a 93% score. I was getting faster, but not fast enough. I was seventeen minutes and seven percent away from getting my ass kicked out of flight school.
I rethought lunch. Maybe I needed to skip today, grab something from the chow hall, and get back in here for another test. I could easily sneak in another few rounds at failing my future before I caught my flight home. Yeah. That was a way better plan than sitting with the guys and getting nothing accomplished. Or the gym. I could definitely use that release. No lunch, it was settled.
“Hey, let’s go, Einstein. Sam said she’d meet us there, and I’m not keeping that little hurricane waiting.”
Hurricane? At least you saw those coming. Sam was more like a squall, coming out of nowhere and knocking you on your ass. On second thought, lunch sounded great. My brain was close to shut-down from the workout I’d put it through, and unless I could fit in a few hours at the gym, I could use lunch to refocus.
Liar. You want to see her.
I crumpled up that thought with the last three tests I’d taken and tossed it into the trash can.