“Man, it’s cool if you don’t graduate.” Clyde led the way into the heated main hall. “You could always stay an extra term and be my buddy until you finally do get your psychology minor. What’s the worst that could happen? Your girlfriend would yell at you?”
“Probably.” The foil to Devon’s lazy study habits was his girlfriend, Alicia, a young woman with the work ethic of a thousand interns vying for one paid position. There was no subject too difficult for her to understand, no cause too insignificant for her to learn about, and no end to Devon’s faults that she could find in the heat of a random moment. The irony that they met at a frat-party over a year ago was enough to make Devon laugh when he watched Alicia scream over the telephone at a fellow law-student about the ethics of the latest case they studied.
“Anyway, you’ll be fine.”
They weaved between other students and their paraphernalia. The registrar’s office was on the second floor, but the staircase to get there was beyond a group of giggling freshmen, forcing the guys to take a detour toward the student store. In front of the store stood booths for different organizations across campus, most of them advertising summer activities and political stances for an upcoming city election. Devon stopped to stare at a booth for the Peace Corps. before following the path that led past a slew of military recruiters.
“Hmph. Maybe I should enroll in the Navy or something,” Devon mumbled.
“Think about it this way,” Clyde said as they ignored the Marine recruiters, “if you did join them, at least you would get to play the cool simulator games. You have some killer hand-eye coordination.”
“I guess I have to have something going for me, huh?”
Clyde came to a halt in front of one of the booths. “What have we here? Propaganda!”
So happened that Clyde was taken in by Danielle and Troy’s booth. However, only one of them currently manned the station.
“If you’re not interested in this information, then I suggest you keep moving.” Danielle stood behind the booth, arms crossed and the rigid hat on her head shadowing her face.
Devon motioned for his friend to follow him upstairs, but Clyde stayed behind to stare at the badge on Danielle’s chest. “Lieutenant Cromwell… hey, what do you have to do to become a lieutenant?”
“Military stuff,” Danielle muttered through shielded teeth.
“Excuse my friend, please, ma’am.” Devon had a fifty-fifty shot of guessing Danielle’s gender, and he managed to pick the right one. An excellent guess for a red-blooded male who usually dated women with commanding personalities. “He’s not right in the head – too many video games.”
“Dude, we should join the military. It’d be the shit.”
“Are you drinking during class again? Let’s go!”
On a normal day, Devon didn’t mind Clyde’s antics. Except there was a vague sense declaring something wrong about this environment. The lieutenant behind the booth didn’t flinch as Devon grabbed his friend’s arm.
“We’re going to the registrar’s office. Playtime with the military is over.”
“But the military has heavy artillery!”
“You’ll be feeling heavy artillery if we don’t leave soon.”
Even before the odd boys disappeared up the staircase, Danielle averted her eyes to catch Troy returning from his escapades in the restroom.
“How’s business, hon?” He stood next to her. “Converted the scholarly masses yet?”
Danielle held back a chuckle while a couple of young women passed without regarding their display. “Have fun in the men’s restroom?”
“Always the best. Although the young men here aren’t as good looking as I remember.”
“It’s a state school, of course they’re not.”
“Shame.” Troy bent over to rearrange the literature on their table. While he busied himself, Danielle’s phone went off in her back pocket.
However, she didn’t have the phone flipped open for more than five seconds before she closed it again. “I swear to God, I will kill the douchebag that keeps hanging up on me,” she said. “That’s the fifth time today.”
Troy shook his head. “We should do something tonight. Got any plans?”
“None, unless you count a quiet evening at home with my TV and plastic boyfriend.”
“Purple or pink?”
“None of your damn business.”
Unlike his partner, Troy could not hold in a derisive laugh. “Sounds boring. Let’s go out and get totally shitfaced at the usual place.”
“I’m not really in the mood.”
“Why?”
Danielle flinched. “Capt. Hotchner will probably be there.”
“Probably – it is her favorite hunting ground.” Troy tugged at his chin. “Maybe you’ll both get so plastered that you’ll finally confess to her and fulfill the fantasies the whole damn department knows you have about each other.”
Ever since she was assigned to work in their department two years ago, Danielle’s headstrong supervisor pursued her with subtle flirtations. Under normal circumstances, Danielle would’ve been more than willing to throw herself into bed with an attractive woman, but seeing that Miranda was her commander… the military would dislike that almost as much as they disliked their gay, which was why people like Danielle and Troy were relegated to their department. Even so, investigations happened often. More reason for Danielle to keep quiet about the mutual attraction quaking beneath her and Miranda.
“I’ll have to think about it,” she said. “I might feel better later.”
But before Troy could shoot another testy remark at her, the cell phone erupted into another tune that shook Danielle’s balance. This time she turned her phone off. The idea of answering another dead call was unappealing.
TWO
Devon opened his front door to the sounds of rising voices and clinking glasses. Off to the side sat Alicia with another man as they discussed the open textbooks before them.
“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about? Of course he was in the wrong!” Alicia’s cheeks puffed red.
“All I’m saying is that maybe they didn’t have to do it that way. Show a little compassion.”
Devon approached his girlfriend from behind, backpack slipping off his shoulder. “Hey, I’m home.” He kissed the top of her head.
The least Alicia could have done was acknowledge his arrival. Devon wandered into the kitchen and raided the refrigerator to absolutely no fanfare. The man sitting with Alicia remained bemused over Devon’s sudden entrance.
“Oh, right.” Alicia sighed. “Philip, this is Devon. He lives here.” She pushed her pen over a spiral notebook.
Philip rested his chin on his hand and regarded Devon with a slight grin. “I think he does more than simply live here. Your boyfriend?”
“Maybe I should ask you the same thing.” Devon tossed a jug of juice back into the refrigerator. “Kidding. Kinda.” When Alicia was studying, she spent more time with classmates than her boyfriend. Whatever. Devon knew that about her when he signed on to cohabitate with Alicia Greene, the busiest woman to ever study non-profit law. “Who are you?”
Alicia dropped her pencil. Her lithe body twitched as if it were on some illicit study-aid. “This is Philip, my study partner for Ethics. Do you mind? We’re trying to study for our final.”
“Sure. I only live here too.” The sudden look of pity he received from Philip was needless. When Devon and Alicia first met at that fateful frat party, she was drunk enough to puke in someone’s toilet, her recent, heart-wrenching breakup with her previous lover still fresh in her unfrozen heart. Devon understood his role as the lucky rebound, but never thought that their façade of a relationship would last beyond a few dates and a couple rounds in bed. Now, after a school year of sharing an apartment together, Devon accepted that this would be the rest of his life if he and Alicia didn’t address their issues. Alicia was capable of caring, but she rebounded from her previous relationship too quickly and nev
er gave herself the proper time to get over her heartbroken bitterness, much to Devon’s detriment.
He collapsed onto the couch in the next room, but dared not to turn on the TV lest Alicia complained. The voices coming from the kitchen were enough to make him curse and throw a pillow across the room. The one day he didn’t have homework or had to go to his part-time job, and he couldn’t even turn on the TV to play video games.
“Devon, sweetie?” Alicia ground her teeth in the kitchen. “Could you run out and get something for dinner? Philip and I will still be here a while.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
After a dinner of cheap takeout, they settled down to watch their movie for the night. Nothing more than the usual romantic comedy fluff Alicia had an affinity for, making Devon curl up on one end of the couch with his eyes barely open. Halfway through the movie, he found his girlfriend on the other end of the couch, her bobbed black hair draped across her face as her chest lifted her sheer blouse up and down.
Devon left the TV on as he went into the kitchen. When he passed the sink, he glanced at the overflowing trashcan, crammed full of soda cans and empty candy wrappers, remnants of Alicia’s afternoon study session. He tied the top of the garbage bag and lifted it out of the can.
He was on his way back from the dumpster when the whine of an animal echoed to his left. Devon searched the darkness for the creature, but could only find a stack of bushes rustling next to the fence line between the apartment and the building next door.
“What the hell?”
The snout of a small dog poked out from the bush. It sniffed the air before revealing the rest of its brown head. Devon stared in disbelief as a Basset Hound scuttled in his direction.
***
Between the overwhelming scent of fresh coffee and the strumming of live guitar music, Danielle could not sit on the old couch for more than a few seconds without excusing herself to the ladies’ room in the hopes of time passing until she could go home. Friday was not the opportune night for her to be out after a long week at work. By the time ten rolled by, all Danielle was good for was curling up in front of the TV or dragging herself to bed like a cat to a sunlit windowsill.
Yet she followed Troy to a local coffeehouse that was a known all-night LGBT gabfest on the weekends. Although it was an easy nine blocks from her apartment building, Danielle didn’t have the strength to remove herself from the couch she and Troy occupied. Instead, she rested her head against the back and stared at the lofted ceilings of the remodeled warehouse. Troy talked his mouth off with any breathing body that passed.
“You know, you’re a real cockblocker sometimes.” They were alone again, Troy more than unamused. “Especially when you’re sitting there sulking and looking like the loneliest lesbian in the world.”
Danielle leaned forward, the blond in her hair reflecting a blue light shining behind her. The dirty green it created on her scalp reflected her mood. “Sorry for ruining your love life. Again.” A sarcastic bite reverberated across her tongue. “How about we get to work on mine?”
“Seriously, woman, when was the last time you got laid? Seventeen?”
“No, that was the first time. Get your shit straight.”
Troy longingly looked at the crowd of old friends greeting one another as they came through the café doors. “You’d think that us visiting Gay Land once every couple of weeks would result in a more fruitful love life for you. Take some initiative and go get some.”
“You’re such a poet, Troy.”
“No, what I am is serious. Ahem.” He thrust his hand toward her. “You haven’t been in a relationship in a whole year. That can’t be healthy. You’re gonna be thirty this summer! You can’t turn thirty single!”
“Not interested.” Danielle pushed toward the far side of the couch. Her last relationship ended with an ultimatum and nothing more than a few old photographs that she kept in an album in the bottom nightstand drawer, with her precious jewelry and tax forms. (The sex aids got the prioritized top shelf, of course.) Said relationship was her longest ever, spanning a whopping seven months before ending when her girlfriend decided to forego lesbian love for the rest of her life. One year and change later, Danielle was probably doomed to never give a shit about dating again.
“Look,” Troy said, smacking his hand against her arm, “here comes Hottie.”
Danielle didn’t bother to look. “I told you she would be here tonight, but you never listen to me, asshole.”
Miranda Hotchner frequented more gay gatherings than any other lesbian in M-Town. Whatever protection she had to keep her from being officially “outed” and dishonorably discharged from the military must have been tougher than steel.
So of course she was there that night. Danielle was correct in anticipating it, and subsequently avoiding her. Not because Miranda did or said things to make her uncomfortable, though. Seeing her in these types of casual spaces was uncomfortable, but only because Miranda was Danielle’s commanding officer. Their department may have been one of the laxest in the military, but that didn’t stop the bizarre undertones of their personal relationship.
It also must be noted that Danielle had more than a small crush on her commander.
Knowing she was gay – off the record, of course – did not help. Danielle loved women who took charge more than any other. In a perfect life, she would be the pillow-biter to some dominating woman’s silly sex games. Miranda fit that description, especially from what Danielle heard on the lesbian gossip vine. Didn’t help she was also gorgeous. Or that she was bilingual, because of course that was sexy. Or that she owned a cute house in one of the nicest neighborhoods.
But Miranda was the last woman Danielle should find attractive.
She was off-limits. Pawns like Danielle were not to fraternize with commanding officers, and Miranda was careful enough to date outside of the military, or at least keep it at her pay grade and in other divisions. Danielle saw the kind of women she dated. Sometimes Miranda brought them to these gatherings, although she flew solo tonight. Deliriously solo, because every time that happened, Danielle briefly entertained fantasies of them going home together. Whose home? Didn’t matter.
There were only two things Danielle knew about Miranda’s inclinations: that she preferred more feminine women, and that a mutual attraction stood between her and Danielle. One that they had managed to not act on since meeting two years ago.
That didn’t mean they didn’t flirt, however. Well, Miranda flirted with her. Sometimes a lot. Almost always outside of work, when they were dressed in civilian clothing and could pretend that their walls were down.
She approached now, having waved off a female acquaintance and setting her sights on two of her underlings enjoying themselves at one of the hippest spots in the neighborhood.
Her attire was a stark contrast from what she wore to work. Gone were the khaki skirt and jacket. An emerald green and navy blue striped long-sleeved blouse bedecked her slender yet muscular figure, her dark dress pants an age-appropriate addition to her mid-30s attire. The barrette was gone from her bangs, allowing them to naturally fall to one side.
Thin, pink lips. A healthy glow to her tanned skin. Dark eyes masked in darker makeup. Pretty red nails that were buffed enough to suggest she had manners in the bedroom. A cool confidence that usually made Danielle sputter in the face of an attractive woman.
How dare Troy – seriously. He knew about the forbidden attraction between these two women, and Danielle would be correct in assuming he fostered it on purpose. Partly because he enjoyed “helping” his best friend, and partly because he fed off the chaos it created. “Time for you to retire from the military so you can bone her, Danny,” he often said when they were drunk. “Then report to me about the pussy. It delivers, from what I hear when the lesbian naval officers show up!”
“Fancy seeing you two here,” Miranda said, standing before them. “I would think that putting up with a campus would’ve mentally drained you two until you crawled bac
k into bed.”
“Thought about it.”
Miranda regarded Danielle long enough to be polite and nothing more. Motions like that made Danielle question whether the mutual part of their attraction was all in her head. (It wasn’t. It took every bit of decorum Miranda had to keep her tea-infused veins from throbbing with arousal.) “What about you, Troy? Decided that tonight would be a good night to party?” Miranda’s tall, lissome body was a mere outline in the shadows of the café. Her use of personal names outside the office was what most people in the department called endearing, but for Danielle it often did nothing but blur the otherwise impervious lines of their relationship. Every time Miranda called her by her first name, Danielle was that much closer to losing her mind.
“Something like that.” Troy scooted over to offer Miranda a spot on the couch. He sat between the two would-be lovebirds who did their mutual best to not regard the other with anything about politeness. “Tonight’s task is to get Danielle laid.”
Danielle died. Right there, on the spot, bile rising in her throat and threatening to pop out of her paling cheeks. “You bastard…” Had he spiked his tea with alcohol? Because that was the kind of bullshit he would say when drunk. Really! Telling their captain that Danielle needed to get laid? Of all the…
Miranda, to her credit, only showed a glimmer of discomfort. On Danielle’s behalf, but it was better than her turning into a slithering snake ready to bite into Danielle’s thighs and sink some poison into her veins.
Oh, dear. That had been a sexual thought, hadn’t it? So much for paling in horror. Danielle was now redder than the nails she wanted inside of her.
This was exactly the reaction Troy had wanted.
“Sounds like a good start to the weekend.” Miranda broadcasted a smirk that made Danielle’s chest tighten and the saliva dry in her throat. “Good luck with that.”
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 2
