Page 67 of The Downside of Love
Fuck, what if I crossed a line back there? I know she saw me take in her entire outfit, because I wasn’t shy about my perusal. I took my time, moving my way up her legs, to her perfect tits, to her beautiful face. I wasn’t bashful, and I sure as hell would do it again if I had the chance.
But did I offend her? We’re friends, and I quite possibly could have just crossed a line, which terrifies me.I can’t lose her.I don’t want my slip up to be the reason she’s so chilly with me right now.
I fill up a glass of water for her and grab two napkins just as she sets the serving platter on the table and takes a seat.
Sitting across from her, I hand her the cup of water and a napkin as well. There are three pieces of chicken on the platter and a pile of broccoli. She knows me too well at this point, providing me with twice the protein.
I hold out my plate and she serves me. Wanting to break the tension resting heavily between us, I say the only thing that comes to mind. “The Thunderbirds flew into the base today.” The Thunderbirds are the USAF demonstration squadron. They perform insane tricks in the air and are present during the Air Force Academy’s graduation.
“Really?” She perks up, most likely surprised from my mention of work. I never talk about it. “That’s exciting. What were they doing there?”
“Training. One of the guys my brother went to the Academy with is now part of the squadron. We caught up a bit.”
Cutting her chicken, but keeping her eyes intently on me, she asks, “Must have been nice to catch up.”
I shrug my shoulders, unsure why I brought up the topic. Rory is treading lightly with me. “It was cool. I’m, uh, I’m part of Air Force Operations, which means I help manage the runways on base. I cleared them for takeoff and landing. We don’t get many jets on base, so when their engines fired up, it was fucking awesome to see and hear.”
Slowly, Rory’s face starts to light up, that beautiful smile I’ve grown to know peeking past the purse of her lips. She takes a bite of her chicken and says, “What kind of planes do you normally have landing and taking off at Peterson?”
“Heavies, meaning cargo-type planes, military transport planes, things like that. They’re fucking huge when you stand next to one.”
“Heavies, is that the term everyone uses?”
I nod. “There are three types of aircraft you can fly in the Air Force: heavies, fighters, and helos, meaning helicopters.”
“That’s what Hardie is flying, right?”
“Yeah, and killing it.” In all honesty, I say, “I’m happy for him.”
She takes a bite of her chicken, chewing slowly, looking me up and down, her gaze searing me in half before she speaks.
“You’re a good friend, Stryder.” Ha, if only she knew. Good friends don’t lust after their best friend’s ex-girlfriends, nor do they fall hopelessly in love with them.
We spend the rest of the meal making small talk, discussing plans for the weekend, how Rory has been feeling all week, and the upcoming State Games Bryan will be participating in. It’s nice, not as uncomfortable as the beginning of our dinner, and for the first time since not making flight school, I was able to briefly talk about my job without wanting to reach for a bottle of scotch. It almost felt normal.
It doesn’t mean I’m not bitter about the Academy’s decision or that I actually enjoy my job, but I’m not about to throw a chair against the wall and find the closest bar when the Air Force is mentioned, and that’s progress.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, when I exit the bathroom after changing out of my work clothes.
Dishes are done, leftovers are put away, and Rory is sitting on the couch in her blue dress, flipping through the channels. When she lands on the Rockies game, she stops and sets the remote down.
Fuck, she’s adorable.
Wearing a thin T-shirt that clings to my arms and a pair of shorts, I sit next to Rory on the tiny loveseat. There isn’t much room on the small space, so I’m used to sitting mere inches from her.
“We don’t have to watch the Rockies game if you don’t want to. We can watch something else,” I offer as my favorite player steps up to the plate.
“Why would I want to do that when I love watching the games as well? Come on, Bryan and my dad had me watching games all the time.”
“Ahh, yes, Bryan is a mega fan. Didn’t know if it transferred over to his sister though.”
“I might not know all the players, but I sure know how to shout, ‘go baseball!’”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” She shrugs her shoulders—so cute.
Not really in the mood for baseball, I ask her, “Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure. Mind if I change?”
