Chapter Text
Every year, I forget how busy the Yard is during the summer.
You’d think I’d remember that from year to year, but I don’t.
Plebe summer. Summer Camps for high schoolers. Sports camps. All the blasted tours.
There’s a lot going on.
I avoid the cafeteria as much as possible.
I prefer the campus cafe which is about as far from the overfilled cafeteria and tours as it can be. Leaving the Maryland humidity behind, I enter the cafe/Exchange, relishing the blast of air conditioning.
I notice her while I wait to place my sandwich order.
She’s beautiful, dark hair fading into white, petite–tucked into a corner of the cafe, half eaten muffin and coffee in front of her. Tank top. Shorts. She’s reading something dense that looks vaguely familiar.
The attendant has to ask for my order twice before I hear him.
Huh. Guess there are perks to tourists wandering around campus. I leave with my sandwich, my day a little brighter than it was when I came in.
Except she’s there the next morning, when I stop by after my strategic leadership seminar.
That’s two days in a row. Strange. Nobody tours the Naval Academy two days in a row. Nobody just hangs out in the cafe, either. It’s out of the way, not on any official tours. You have to have a military ID card to even order something here. So she’s either military herself or military adjacent.
I’d bet military adjacent.
Her eyes flick up as she’s turning a page and they catch me watching her. I force my embarrassment down, and meet her gaze. Something shifts in my chest and I stumble–what the hell is happening? She is just a girl. A pretty girl, sure, but just a girl. She gives a soft smile and returns to her book, just as I hear my order–“Ham and cheese!”-called.
I have to blink. Shake myself. Whatever that was—I need to walk it off. Maybe run it off. Maybe a cold shower. The last thing I need is a distraction.
I grab my sandwich and return to class in a daze. I fumble two answers in class and get an unhappy grunt from my advisor.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
It was less than a second, but her hazel eyes haunt my dreams that night.
On day three, I’m relieved to see her there again, still tucked into the same corner table. I order more than normal: sandwich, muffin, coffee, lemonade, cookie. When I have it all, I steel myself to be told off and walk to her corner table. I sit down across from her and wait til her eyes drift from her book to my face. “Hi.” I say, “Coffee? Lemonade?”
Her lips curve in a small, incredulous smile, “This is how you pickup girls?”
I shrug, “I’m not very good at this. I figured...you’re at a coffee shop? I should get you coffee?” I say it like a question, but it’s the truth. Flirting–picking up women–I’m horrible at it.
If Garrick was here, he’d be laughing too hard to stand straight. Good thing he’s at Camp Lejeune helping facilitate the younger midshipmen.
Her smile turns into a full fledged, dazzling grin. “Good,” She says, “My goal was to meet you. You’ve saved me from tripping and dropping my books as a meet-cute.” She gestures to her neat stack of books, arranged in a premeditated way–easy to pick up in a hurry. The intent is clear–she was going to try to get my attention.
A slow, warm feeling spreads through my chest. She was interested in me, too. She was thinking of ways to meet me.
Maybe that shift yesterday—the one that rattled something loose in me—wasn’t just me after all.
She takes the muffin and coffee and we eat together.
I ask why she’s been here three days in a row. A new thought crosses my mind, “Are you coaching a camp?”
“No,” she snorts, “I’m not even remotely athletic. I’m not that cool. I’m a fac-brat.” She uses slang for a child of a faculty member, like it’s not a big deal.
It is a big deal.
Instantly, my guard goes up. I can’t help it. This is dangerous territory, territory that could include forms, signatures and official declarations–all to just date her.
She sees my response. Bites her lip. “Is that a bad thing?”
I purse my lips for a second, thinking, “Depends on who your faculty parent is.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I hold up my hand, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. What if I bombed their class? What if I hate their teaching style? What if they’re a jerk?” I shake my head, “Just don’t tell me. I can plead ignorance if I’m called before the mast.”
Her eyes brighten, “So no names then?”
I shake my head, “No names.”
“Except…” She gestures to my uniform, “I can kind of see yours.”
Shoot. I forgot about my name placard. Embarrassment flushes my neck. “Okay, I just won’t know yours. ”
She smiles wickedly, “I like this. I feel powerful already.”
The smile she gives me steals the air from my lungs. This isn’t just some girl.
She’s a force.
And God help me—I already want to give her everything. Every inch of power she wants. Even if it’s power over me.
I take a bite of my sandwich, trying to anchor myself in something normal. The taste barely registers. I glance behind me, half-expecting the world to look different—like a Twilight Zone episode. But everything’s as it was.
How can it be the same when this petite woman has knocked my world off its axis?
After my heart settles, I ask, “What are you reading?”
“Oh, just the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the rise of the modern day Middle East. Nothing big,” She says loftily, “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”
I ignore the jab, though I like it. I like the confidence, the quick wit, the way she’s trying to get a rise out of me. I like it–more than I’m willing to admit. But for now–I’ve got to play it safe. "Fac-brat" is pounding in my head. “Is that your major? Middle Eastern studies?” I ask instead.
“Nah,” she says, “I’m majoring in International Political Economy.”
“That sounds…” I pause, "Unusual. What do you even do with that?”
“Hey,” she responds tartly, “We can’t all be engineers.”
The dig lands. I’m a mechanical engineering major. “Ouch.”
She grins mischievously, “Thought so. You’re just so very…Navy.”
I snort, “What does that even mean?”
Before she can respond, a voice calls out, “Oi! Commander! Seminar in five!”
It’s followed by snickering.
I have two simultaneous thoughts: I hate my friends and I regret sitting with my back to the entrance.
I check my watch. Shit. I really have to go.
I look at her. She’s looking behind me, probably at my doofus friends. Tyler from the sounds of it. “Brigade Commander, huh? That would have been an impressive pick up line.”
“I’m not an ass–I don’t use my rank to impress girls. I have to go,” I half stand before I hesitate and sit back down, “Fac brat, right? So you’ll be here all summer? Like…tomorrow?”
I sound pathetic.
She laughs, “Yes, Riorson, I’ll be here tomorrow.”
My body thrills a little bit at my name coming out of her mouth. But before I respond, she follows up with, “I’ll have a tea and a chocolate muffin.”
I grin, ignoring the laughing behind me that’s getting louder. I’ve got to move fast if I don’t want my friends ruining this moment, “Copy. I’ll bring you that.”
And just like that, we have a date.
She smiles at me, and returns to her book.
I bus my trash and meet Tyler at the stairs, “Not a word,” I warn.
His smirk lets me know I haven’t heard the last of it, but a quick check of our watches makes us break into a run, desperate to get to the Academy building before we’re marked late.
I smile the whole way.