I crumpled up that thought with the last three tests I’d taken and tossed it into the trash can.
We all filed into our cars and headed off-post toward the restaurant. The temperature in my F150 was enough to cook an egg, not that I was going to experiment. I was used to Southern summers, but not in full, long-sleeved uniform, and not without the ocean breeze. Pretty sure I could pull some Wizard of Oz shit, because I was fucking melting today. We pulled up to Firehouse, and I was the first through the door. My eyes searched for her before I even realized I was doing it, but we must have beaten her there.
I flexed my jaw and attempted to relax. It wasn’t like I wasn’t going to see her at home. I lived with the damn girl, but my brain craved more. Four damn weeks, and if I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her, wondering what she was doing and what ridiculous prank she was pulling. It was getting more than a little out of hand. What trouble was she going to get into this weekend while I was gone?
It was my turn up to the counter, and when I heard Jagger on the phone with Sam, saying back her order to get it right, I placed it, putting it on my tab. Apparently having her as a roommate meant I needed to either curb my irrational infatuation or make a new line-item on the budget that read “For misogynistic displays of illogical possession.”
We took the booth nearest the door, and the guys started talking about their plans for the Fourth of July. I heard them, but their voices took a backseat to the white noise in my head. Failing three tests. One more week.
Flying home tonight so I could spend the weekend at home. Again.
“Not sure. I have to check with Paisley,” Jagger said, “and I’ll answer for Josh and say that he’s headed to Nashville.”
“Ha.” Josh threw a fry at Jagger’s head. “Not like you’re not just as whipped.”
“Ouch, yet true,” Jagger answered.
The bell sounded as the door opened, and my head whipped toward it as a few soldiers walked in. I bit into my chicken-parm hoagie like it would fill the pit that was slowly growing in my stomach.
“Little anxious over there?” Jagger asked, smirking like an asshole.
I didn’t bother answering, sending a death glare across the booth. The bell sounded again, and this time Sam swept in, dressed in a flowy skirt that ended right above her knees and a strappy top that left her collarbone bare. I swallowed, my food suddenly a lot thicker. Or maybe that was my tongue.
“Hi!” She grinned and waved, skipping over to our table. “Scooch over.” She nudged my shoulder, and I slid toward Carter, more than happy to be the barrier between them.
“You look happy,” Josh said.
“Friday payday! So I picked up some groceries and swung by the library to ask Paisley if they need any volunteers. Oh, is that mine?” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I slid her sandwich toward her. “Thank you!”
“Sam, you didn’t have to grocery shop,” Jagger said, a French fry hanging out of his mouth. How he got by dating the Commanding General’s daughter with those manners, I’d never know.
“I wanted to. But I wish I’d been warned that they didn’t stock peppermint-mocha coffee creamer down here. I would have stocked up in Nashville.” She took a bite of her food and moaned. “Ohmygodsogood,” she mumbled through her chewing.
I’d never really thought a girl eating was hot, but damn. Stop it. You’re going home today. “Do you want my muffin, too?” I motioned to the banana walnut one I’d added to my tray.
“Thanks, but I’m allergic to nuts. I’ll stick with this masterpiece,” she said to her sandwich. “So, are you flying straight into Nags Head?” she asked, her eyes on me.
Jagger dropped his fry. “Nags Head?”
Sam nodded, her eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah. It’s where he’s from. Right, Grayson?”
Their stares burned holes through my uniform, but I nodded anyway. “Yep.”