What If

I didn’t take my eyes off of him even when he stood and made his way to the bathroom. I watched his tight ass the whole way there. I worked to memorize every inch of his body that was open for me to stare at. I burned into my memory each hard muscle and line that made Arrow into the man I’d wanted for the past four years. I wanted to open up that mental photograph in my mind whenever I felt like it. I’d remember every last inch from the hairs on his head to the solid muscles of his back and the flexed movements in his legs.

The shower whined as Arrow turned it on, then the sound of water hitting the ceramic tub drowned every noise out.

“Want to join me?” Arrow hollered from behind the door. I heard the deep rumble of his laughter.

“In your dreams!” I yelled back.

“Thought I’d ask. I’m going into a war zone; I might never feel the warmth of a woman’s body again,” he teased.

“You’re going to boot camp, not war,” I corrected.

“Damn it, any other woman wouldn’t question me.” The shower curtain crinkled. I pictured his naked body stepping into the hot drizzle of the shower.

I rolled my eyes. “Then you know a lot of stupid girls.”

“True. I’ll be out in a second.”

I rounded up the clothes I’d stripped off last night to run half naked down the hallway and slid each article back on.

I was tugging my shirt down when Arrow came into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets ran down the length of his arms and chest, some getting stuck in the hair on his body. Wetting my lips and fixing my shirt, I smiled at him.

“You couldn’t wait to get dressed until I got out here?” he asked in a joking manner.

“You’ve seen enough,” I bantered.

I think he said, “Not enough.” But the words were low and meant for his ears, not mine.

He picked up a pile of clothes lying on the new-looking, brown chair next to the bed and went back into the steaming bathroom. When he returned, he was fully dressed, but his hair was still wet and a little wild from towel-drying it.

“We better head down,” he suggested. “I have a feeling they won’t like anyone being late.”

I bit my lip and ran a hand through my hair. I hadn’t looked in the mirror, but I knew what I looked like straight out of bed. It wasn’t pretty. We didn’t have time for me to take a shower or freshen up, though, so instead I nodded, picked up my purse, slipped my feet into the black flip flops, and followed him out of the room.

He took my hand as soon as we were in the hallway and dragged me toward the elevator. I wanted to lag behind and make him walk slower. Everything was going too fast. The past four years seemed to have disappeared in a blink of an eye, last night seemed like it was five minutes ago, and the fact that he was about to board a bus full of other Marine recruits felt way too real. I wanted to puke. I wanted to pull him back into the hotel room, lock the door, and tell him he couldn’t leave.

Maybe he read my mind or maybe he was thinking and wishing the same exact things I was. He whispered, “I’ll write. I’ll call.” The metal doors opened, and we stepped into the elevator.

I shook my head up and down, holding his hand tighter in mine. We didn’t say another word until we were in the lobby of the hotel.

There were men in uniform; they stood straighter than the new recruits, more polished, more put together. Still, I noticed some of them watching recruits saying bye to their loved ones, and I saw the compassion in their eyes. They understood the difficulty of walking away, knowing it was the last time you’d see that person as they are now. When Arrow came back, he’d be different.

There were men hugging women with rings on their fingers and others hugging their parents and siblings. I wasn’t anyone’s significant other or family member, but I felt like I was losing a limb from my body.

I suddenly realized tears were running down my cheeks as I looked around at all these people and thought about how damn badly it hurt to say goodbye to my best friend. An older woman looked over at me with a frown etched into the sides of her mouth. Her lips tipped upwards in a sympathetic smile.

“Hey,” Arrow said drawing my attention to him.

I couldn’t see him clearly through my watery eyes. He wiped my eyes, which helped a little, but soon they filled up again.

“This isn’t easy,” he said, pain etched in every feature of his face. His sad eyes mirrored my own.

“If I don’t hear from you I’ll kick your ass,” I stated, sniffling.

“I know.” He grinned down at me. “Come here.” He yanked me, not so gently, against him.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he conceded.

“Not soon enough.” My fists gripped the white cotton of his t-shirt which had the band “311” written across it.

“You have two minutes to say goodbye!” A Marine yelled to all of us.

“Shit,” I muttered. Two minutes wasn’t enough time; an hour wouldn’t be enough.

“Okay, well I thought I knew exactly what I’d say to you before I left, but now that we’re here everything I was going to say kind of flew out the window.” Arrow blew out his breath, looked around the room, and then met my eyes.

“I’ll see you in a few months,” I said, still not wanting to say goodbye. It felt too final.

He nodded. “Yep, and I know your address. I’ll write you as soon as we get the chance, and then you’ll have my address and you better write me back, Briar.” His eyes narrowed into slits.

“Of course I’ll write, you idiot!”

“Wrap it up!” The same solider yelled.

Arrow looked ready to yell back at the man but bit back the urge with a short exhalation. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“When you get in the car, open this. But not until you get in the car,” he commanded, pulling the paper away from my fingers, waiting for my promise.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. “I’ll wait until I’m in the car to read it.” He released his hold on the note. I put it in my front pocket, shoving it in without graceful coordination.

We slammed into each other at the same time, hugging one another like our entire lives depended on it. I held onto him like a life force. His embrace was painfully tight, but I welcomed the uneasy breaths and tightness of my lungs.

“Load up!” the soldier called out.

“I love you, Briar,” he whispered it into my ear and let me go. I didn’t get a chance to tell him I loved him back. He was too far away and lining up with all the other men and women. I turned around, both my hands over my left breast, reaching for my heart, wanting to hold it in my hands, and walked outside and into my mom’s car.

I took the letter out of my front pocket and opened it rapidly, nearly tearing it. There wasn’t a lot written, but it was enough. I laid my head against the steering wheel and looked down at my lap re-reading the note over and over again.

Briar,

Some of our best times together have involved music. Singing ridiculously in the car with you is one of my favorite hobbies. But, there’s one song that I’m going to play every day that I’m away. Every time I play it, I’m going to be thinking of you. I hope you do the same.

Dear God by Avenged Sevenfold. You know which one I’m talking about. You’re my best friend. I love you.