“They are and they aren't,” she told me. “You're right, they are technically wedged in this alternate reality world of cadet-land. Any other post, they don't hold rank to do a damn thing. But remember, the Corps might be a bunch of college students, and in a lot of ways, they act like it too, but they're officers in training. And once the firsties march through Michie in late May and suddenly find themselves Second Lieutenants . . . well, let's just say I've seen and heard a few stories about people who found out too harshly that their down-low but still UCMJ-okay relationship got them dumped with a quickness once that butter bar got pinned on their shoulders.”
At the time, I didn't think it'd be a problem. I didn't like the Corps. In fact, since then, I’ve come to dislike the Corps even more. Besides First Captain Bitch-face, Greene's words were right. I don't mingle with the Corps a lot, but I've gotten my fair share of guy cadets trying to hit on me when I've been around Highland Falls. Then again, I'm of the sincere and utter belief that male cadets will hit on anything that has a vagina if they think they've got a shot. And the arrogance is off the charts on some of them, too.
Maybe that's why I gave my number to Aaron. He came across as confident, but not so strongly that it turned me off. Maybe I'm just overthinking things. I mean, it’s just a damn bike ride. It's not like I agreed to go out for an actual date.
The door to my room opens, and my roommate, Jo Hall, comes in. She's a Specialist that works for Garrison Command too, although she's a paralegal who works with the Law Department. “Hey Jo, how was the day?”
“Fucking asshole stared a hole in my tits,” Jo grumbles, going over to her side of our shared barracks room and starting to unbutton her shirt. “I fucking hate Monday to Thursdays.”
I hum in understanding. Monday through Thursday, those of us who work anywhere near Central Post have to dress like the cadets, which means in our blue and white class B uniforms. Thank God they issued us all two more sets for that, but I feel more comfortable on Fridays or non-football weekends when I can wear a real Army uniform, field fatigues. “Why not just wear a sweater?”
“In the law department?” Jo asks, giving me a raised eyebrow. I feel bad for her. She’s got large breasts that usually could be used as an asset, but she gets a lot of unwanted attention. “First off, the sweater is itchy as hell. Secondly, the Colonel likes to keep it warm all the time. If I wear that sweater, I'm going to drop from dehydration in two hours.”
I laugh at the image, and she joins in. “Well, at least you have something to show off,” I reassure her.
“I guess we both have our problems. You and that ass that has the women's lacrosse team salivating,” Jo shoots back. It's a long-standing rumor that the women's lacrosse team is filled with lesbians. I don't think it's true . . . probably started by some of the asshole male cadets that neither of us can stand that got shot down by the lax team, but it still sticks around. “I think that's why you like that bike of yours so much. You can tease every man on post and still get in exercise.”
“Gotta do what you gotta do.” I laugh in reply, my laughter fading as I think of the way Aaron looked at me. “So what's on your agenda for tonight?”
“Me and the University of Phoenix have a date,” Jo replies, stripping off her shirt and undoing her sports bra. She sighs as her boobs finally get to tumble free, and she rubs her shoulders where the straps have cut pink lines into her skin. “What do you think of me getting a reduction? I'm sure I could talk Kellar Hospital into doing it.”
I tsk my tongue, shaking my head. “To quote the Dread Pirate Roberts: There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. 'Twould be a shame to damage yours.”
Jo laughs and grabs a t-shirt, pulling it over. “You're too much.”
“Hey, I'm going to grab some food. You want anything?”
I should’ve known better even before I opened my mouth. Jo fights her weight constantly, and she shakes her head. “Not tonight. Didn't you hear? First Sergeant's doing tape tests Friday morning. Think I'll be eating light for the next few days.”
I sigh, nodding. She looks good, but Jo and the Army weight standards don't get along too well. “Okay. Have fun with whatever you're working on.”
“I will. See you later.”
I leave the room and head out, wondering what I'm going to eat. Garrison enlisted mess isn't all that tasty, but it’s part of my benefits. Might as well eat for free when I can.
Chapter 3
Aaron
“So how was your test?” Lindsey asks as we push up and over the hill. The mid-winter chill bites through our tights and our jackets, but it's Saturday, and she knows the only time I get to do these rides is on Saturdays. That's nine Saturdays in a row, not including Christmas break, that we've gone on a ride together. She's even been willing to flex our ride times to fit the realities of cadet life, delaying them to after parades or other 'mandatory fun' that the Corps likes to have us do. “Think you did well?”
“Pretty sure I did well enough,” I reply. We're not pushing the pace. The goal is distance today, not time, so even if we're not trying to rip the rubber off our tires, I'm going to be aching by the end. “Maybe even an A if some of my guesses fall my way.”
“Nerd,” Lindsey teases, smirking. “I thought you guys were all brawn and no brains?”