The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance

by Serena Silver

  It took the General a moment, who was busy surveying the horizon with little field glasses. Bradley had no idea what the man was looking at.

  “Have a seat, son,” the General said.

  Bradley sat without further prompting. The General continued.

  “I know you've just shown up to the island, and don't know your way around very well yet, but let me introduce you to the most coveted and off limits beauty on the rock,” the General made a motion to Jasmine with his binoculars without taking his eyes away from them. “This is my daughter, Jasmine. She looks like her beautiful mother, who passed some years ago, God bless her. I miss that woman dearly. But, anyway. It's good to have you aboard because we need more men like yourself, son.”

  The General took the field glasses away from his eyes to let them hang from a strap around his neck against his chest.

  “What we are doing out there in the southwest Pacific is some really tricky business, and recently we've even lost a few SEALs. Losing a SEAL, as you know, is a problem. So now the heat is on me to ensure that something like what just happened never happens again.”

  “What just happened?” Bradley asked.

  Bradley spoke out of turn, but he didn't exactly interrupt the General. Instead, he'd just waited for the man to pause and interjected. Even so, from the way the General acted, Bradley could tell that the old man wasn't used to it, and Bradley made a mental note not to do it again.

  “Well, son,” the General said. “We lost a team of SEALs. Not just one or two, but a whole team. I'm not sure what happened, but I know that it won't happen again. We're pouring resources into training and intelligence, and we're also taking a hard look at how we do things strategically. There seems to be a few blind spots that need to be addressed, but nothing that we can't figure out. And, since I've taken a look at your general thinking score, and the rest of your Service Record Book, I'm more excited than ever to push forward. You, Bradley, are the person we've been waiting for to lead the next wave of teams.”

  “Teams?” Bradley asked. His voice sounded small and even seemed to have a tremble. He knew that he was in some trouble if this General was going to sit and babble about how a bunch of people had just died, but, oh, not to worry, because now everything would be fixed with his help.

  “Teams, son,” the General said. “And I know this is all new, and coming at you at ramming speed, but know that I'm here for you. My staff is here for you. We are going to make the next oil hop the best one to date. And then we are going to continue on with that success, and build an elite group of people so skilled at taking down oil rigs that nothing will be able to stand in our way.”

  Bradley could appreciate that the General was pouring it on a little thick, and that meant the old man was taking heat from above. If SEALs had died as a team that meant that things had gone wrong in ways that no one had ever really thought possible. It could have been anything, and Bradley knew that with a certainty that reverberated from his core. He'd watched his brothers fall before, heard them crying out to God with their backs pressed to the deck. He knew what it was like to finally meet their families, to be told, “Thanks for doing your best for my son.”

  Maybe that's what was going on, Bradley thought as the General kept going with what appeared to be bits and pieces of several different speeches cobbled together to be a welcome address, and a “You're in charge now,” speech. Bradley was used to both of those kinds, so he didn't need to tune in. Maybe the base had just experienced its first real losses, and they were having a hard time processing. When people who really mattered to command, like SEALs who were part of a special task force, went away to parts unknown never to return, it made people leery of what was out there. And that wasn't the kind of outfit that anyone, especially not this bombastic General, wanted to be responsible for fostering.

  If feelings chilled toward that area of the world because of what could be construed as the fault of the General, then he would be removed from command. It really was that simple, even though so many people would have everyone believe that the military was mired down in politics, and caught up in being Politically Correct. Anyone who had been around for a while knew that things were still very much as they'd always been. How, when something bad happened, it couldn't be chalked up to a learning experience—it meant there was a real, systemic problem. The team could have perished in any number of ways that would have absolved command of any kind of culpability, but if there wasn't any sort of radio or video, there was no way to tell what actually happened.

  “It's like this, son,” the General said. “It would be like if when they went in to get Osama Bin Laden things had gone wrong, really wrong, and then someone had to be around to take the blame for it. What would that have looked like? What would that have felt like?”

  Bradley mumbled a reply and looked at Jasmine. There was so much about her that was beautiful. The way her eyes wandered across the landscape, roving from feature to feature that expressed itself in the terrain. Jasmine could have been a supermodel, Bradley realized, but instead, she'd been born the daughter of a General, which meant that financially speaking, she was taken care of for the rest of her life. Generals made around a half a million dollars a year and had great retirement benefits, everyone knew that.

  “Daddy,” Jasmine said. “What is this young man's name? You've been speaking to him for a while now, and I don't know if you even asked for his name.”

  The General stopped speaking and seriously considered what Jasmine had said.

  “Dear,” the General said. “I already know his name. It's Bradley. I actually used it already when I referred to him. Just once. All the other times I called him 'son.' I know you heard me.”

  “I know, daddy,” Jasmine said. “But it's time for us to just enjoy our meal. Look, he hasn't even touched his!”

  Jasmine winked at Bradley as the General responded that it was indeed time to eat. Before he dug in, though, he made a few more remarks disparaging everyone who played naysayer to his policies and training regimen. He was going to make sure that things change, he informed Bradley, ensure that things around the base were a little less like girls dancing on the beach and a bit more like the stumps.

  Bradley didn't know what to say back to any of this, so he just dug in. He made sure to glance up at Jasmine once or twice just in case she wanted to wink at him, but she played coy the rest of the meal.

  That was all right with Bradley. There certainly was something about having the General's beautiful daughter hit on him over a meal that was appealing, but he also liked the idea of not making an enemy of his boss the very first day that they met. There would be plenty of other times in the future that Bradley would have a chance to piss off the General, and in fact, he thought it would happen rather quickly considering how on edge the General was. But Jasmine, Bradley didn't know what would happen with her in the future. Her long, black as night, hair, and her fair features were so good looking to him that he couldn't imagine a more stunning woman if he tried. But he didn't want to try.

  “Well,” the General said. “I'll leave you two alone. But I want you to know, Bradley, that I am holding you to the highest standard of conduct. I want you to be the most you can be, and I want you to make my men the uber-men I know they already are!”

  With that, the General stood and left. It was interesting to Bradley that he had the where-with-all to know when he was the third wheel. Many people wouldn't have been so polite about seeing themselves out. Before the General turned away, Bradley stood and then spoke.

  “Thank you, sir,” Bradley said. “For making me feel welcome at the table with you. And thank you for trusting your daughter with my company. It actually does mean a great deal.”

  The General simply gave Bradley a curt nod and continued on his way, looking at his watch while he moved out the door.

  “You did the right thing there,” Jasmine said. “To say thank you. That's something that is missing from the SEAL culture, the common courtesy to superiors that
isn't in the handbooks. You know what I mean, how the officers mess used to be a gentleman's club of sorts, where crude behavior wasn't tolerated.”

  Bradley was surprised to hear Jasmine speak so assertively and so eloquently. She had definitely been playing a role for her father that must have put the General at ease enough to know that Jasmine wanted him to leave her alone with Bradley. He realized much had been said non-verbally between the two that he had missed, but he didn't begrudge them that. He was the new person on the base, so of course, he really wouldn't know what was going on. There would be much that he would learn on the fly, and there would probably be a few things that would bite him in the ass because he didn't know the right thing to say, or who were the right folks to be friends with.

  “So,” Bradley said, letting his side of the conversation start off on wobbly legs. “I was wondering. I heard tell that few other SEALs got, um, how shall I put it—involved with you. And then they lost stripes over it.”

  Jasmine sighed.

  “Well,” she began. “It's not really that simple. They both had drinking problems, and one even hit me, although that's not what the reports say. We didn't want to ruin his career just because he has his demons to wrestle with. So instead he got a stern talking to, and he lost some stripes over it. I think that's a pretty fair trade for a black eye, wouldn't you agree?”

  Bradley audibly gulped.

  “But don't worry about that stuff,” Jasmine said. “I'm not here to fuck you over. Well, not in that way.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him, and Bradley blushed. He usually wasn't this way when women were aggressive with him; usually, Bradley was able to dish it out as good as anyone gave it. But this time, with Jasmine, something was different. He felt a vulnerability that he usually didn't feel with other women, and it was something he enjoyed feeling. Being challenged meant a lot to a SEAL, and Bradley was very much in the vein of people who liked to respect those around them for their intelligence as much as anything else. Bradley was smitten, and he knew it. He wasn't sure what to do, or what to say. Completely at the mercy of Jasmine, he figured that the best offense would be a civil defense. He didn't want to make it seem like she had all the power and hoped that it wouldn't put her off. It wasn't a good plan, but it was the only thing he could think of between quick bites of food.

  “You know,” Bradley said. “There is something about you that reminds me a little bit of someone I knew before.”

  “Oh, really?” Jasmine said, her voice darkening a bit.

  Bradley wasn't sure what Jasmine thought he was going to say, but he figured not going in the super negative direction her tone implied was the obvious best move, and what he'd been planning on doing all along. Before he spoke, he realized that the reason Jasmine was acting so defensively was because she was just as smitten with him. It wasn't soon before their conversation about current events picked up, and the sun sat in front of them. It was a gorgeous night out, and Bradley knew that there really wasn't anyone better that he could share it with.

  When things got toward the end of the meal, and Jasmine kept throwing bedroom glances his direction, Bradley panicked. It was obviously too soon for them to have sex, but that didn't mean that they couldn't fool around. There was just a lot of degrees between the beast with two backs and the start of the road that led there. Bradley knew as well as the next good looking SEAL that not all women who gave him that look wanted to go all the way; some of them just wanted to see him with no clothes on, or at least fewer clothes. Bradley understood that to respect a woman truly meant only going as far as they wanted to go, letting them set the pace.

  So when Jasmine asked him over to her loft by the beach, Bradley said yes. He was nervous and wasn't sure if he was making the right decisions, but he also was keenly aware of what could happen if he was extremely uncouth with the General's daughter, if he were rude or otherwise out of pocket—it would cost him rank and maybe even his career. Bradley couldn't understand why Jasmine wouldn't have pressed charges on the man who'd struck her, but he also realized that he wasn't her, so there was no way for him to know what was going on during that time emotionally for both of them.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jasmine asked as they hailed a cab.

  “I'm thinking about how this job can really take a toll on people,” Bradley said somberly. “I know it's kind of a bummer to talk about, and especially sensitive for you because it happened to you, but I feel for the man who struck you. I think you should have reported him to the authorities because that's how I was raised, but I wonder what that man would have been like outside of the military. What your relationship could have flourished into if it had been in more hospitable environments.”

  Jasmine's eyes widened, and her jaw hung agape. It would have been comical if Bradley hadn't already been fearful of fucking things up from the get-go. There wasn't much he could do now that he'd spoken, and the cab right was full of a pensive, contemplative silence from Jasmine. The driver noticed it right off the bat and glanced at both of them, apparently already aware of who Jasmine was and what was going on. When they got out of the cab, Jasmine pulled Bradley close to her by the hand and looked up at him.

  “Listen,” Jasmine said. “I know that there are some things that we shouldn't talk about, but I'm glad you're able to address how you feel in a manner that makes sense while making sure that you're sensitive to my feelings. It means a lot.”

  Bradley was stunned and could do little else but barely manage to follow Jasmine as she led him by the hand to the elevator. Bradley hoped that when they got to the top Jasmine wouldn't have a childish place because that was his biggest turn-off. Whenever he came over to a woman's place for the first time, he hoped that it was tidy, and in good order. He also hoped that there would be some tasteful art on the wall, and also several books around with markers in them. Bradley loved it when a woman read, it was one of the most attractive things a person could do in Bradley's opinion.

  All of his fears vanished the moment he stepped into Jasmine's place, not to return. Her entire apartment was lined with shelves filled with books. There were several shelves filled with records and a bunch of other intellectual paraphernalia. What surprised Bradley was the boat in a big glass bottle in the corner of the living room.

  “Holy shit,” Bradley said. “This boat is fantastic!”

  “It's a weird hobby,” Jasmine said. “Most people don't get it. But it's like meditating, or writing, even. I want to try painting, but I'm not sure how good at it I'd be. And for me it's just one of those things, you know? I like how it makes me feel. I like how it makes me concentrate.”

  The ship in the glass bottle was something of grandeur that Bradley was having a hard time wrapping his mind around. How could someone even put together something so intricate and delicate in such a small space, and without using their hands? The glass bottle was big, it had to be to accommodate the three-decked ship that bristled with guns and flags that Bradley imagined waving in the wind as the ship exchanged fusillades with the enemy vessels. It would have been truly a sight to behold!

  “Do you ever imagine it--” that was all Bradley managed before Jasmine cut him off.

  “Fighting other ships?” she finished for him. “The whole time I built the fucker.”

  They both laughed, and then Jasmine made her way to her modest kitchen and made them both drinks.

  “I like a lot of things most girls don't. I guess it's because I'm a military brat, but it also could be because I'm a free thinker. Not that other people are closed minded all of the time, but I do feel like there are plenty of people out there who are living life by some kind of rule book that I don't really understand. Like, tonight for example,” Jasmine said looking at the bulge in Bradley's trousers with a wry twinkle in her eye. “There are social norms that dictate how far we can go physically, and that's weird for me.”

  Bradley straightened up as she spoke of fooling around, and then wished he hadn't reacted at all when she smirked about
it.

  “Has your father ever told you about the old regulations about how military personnel couldn't have sex except for in the missionary position? It was crazy. People used to get busted down for stuff like pictures of them having sex in the doggy style position,” Bradley said.

  As they sat down at the small bar that faced the giant television hanging from the wall, which neither of them moved to turn on, Jasmine smiled as if mulling whether or not she should say something.

  “I take it they had bad breakups, and then their exes turned in the pictures knowing that it would get them in trouble?” Jasmine asked.

  “Indeed,” Bradley replied with a smirk. “It's kind of ironic how we sign up to defend the nation's interests, but then our own personal freedoms are just thrown out the window because laws from fifty years ago haven't caught up to the reality of the culture. Some people say that's just how it is, but I'm not sure it has to be that way.”

  Jasmine took a big drink and scooted her stool closer to his, placing her hand on his knee.

  “But it isn't that way anymore,” she said. “Is it?”

  Bradley chuckled to mask his nervousness.

  “Now, yes,” Bradley said. “But that doesn't take back all the damage those short-sighted, narrow-minded laws did. Many people were let go who didn't need to be. I don't know. Maybe it's just how things are sometimes run, I guess, but I don't pretend to like the parts that rub me the wrong way.”

  “Do I rub you the wrong way?” Jasmine asked as she lightly caressed Bradley's leg up and down with her fingernails.