Undeclared(17)

I think the higher-ups like these videos because they make A’stan look fun, which it isn’t. But it’s good PR.

Some guys from MMA were here to entertain the troops. I talked to one of the managers, who said that a guy could earn six figures a year for beating someone else up in the ring. It’s not really boxing skills that matter, either, because a lot of the skills are kicking and hand-to-hand combat, which is something that we’re taught here.

It’s kind of a cool idea. Yeah, there are worries about concussions, but I think the pros outweigh the cons. Bo isn’t interested, but he doesn’t need to be either. He’s got plenty of family money. He told me that we both should go to college after we get out and that I could use the GI Bill to pay for everything.

What college did you say you were going to? Central? Mail me something about it the next time you send a care package. I think I should check it out.

Yours,

Noah


Grace

Noah navigated us to my apartment without asking for directions once. He parked in the small drive behind the house, and, before I could open my own door, he jumped out and came around to help me out.

“How about I carry them in?” Noah asked, opening the back seat of the cab.

“We live on the third floor, Mr. Macho.” I wondered for the millionth time why we didn’t live on the first floor. Lana always said it was good exercise, but she never had to practically drag my drunken body up two flights of stairs.

He looked at the girls dubiously. “I don’t think you’re rousing them. I’ve carried heavier things over longer and rougher terrain, so I think I can manage two girls who each weigh about the same as a feed sack.”

Even with some heavy jostling and the promise of comfortable beds, I could not manage to wake Lana or Amy. Noah gently pushed me aside. “Keys?” I pulled out my apartment key and handed it to Noah. He hefted Amy in his arms and disappeared inside the house.

“Lana, I think I’m in trouble,” I whispered to her passed-out form. “I don’t know how much longer I can resist him. He’s going to be in our apartment. I’m afraid I’m going to attack him or something. I wish you were awake to protect me from myself.” Lana moaned in response, and I stroked her head.

Noah returned and wasn’t one bit out of breath. He hoisted Lana onto his shoulder, and I shut the doors to the truck. The truck’s headlights flashed, and a mechanical beep signaled that Noah had locked the doors. He motioned for me to go first, but I felt really self-conscious that my big butt would be waving in his face. When he refused to move until I did, I heaved a big sigh and climbed the stairs. I hoped he liked juicy round ones.

Noah had placed Amy on the sofa when he came back for Lana, so I led him to Lana’s room. He set her on the bed and went to get Amy. When the two girls were lying side-by-side on the bed, I shooed Noah out of the room and proceeded to take off Lana and Amy’s shoes. I wiped Lana’s face down with a wet wipe so she wouldn’t have to wake up with makeup on tomorrow. I tended to Amy the same way, taking my sweet time.

I sat down on the side of the bed, stalling. I was pretty sure I couldn’t handle Noah alone in my apartment with no buffer. My biggest fear was that I would break down in front of him, followed closely by the mortifying image in my head of dragging him to my bedroom.

I listened for the front door but it didn’t open or close. Instead, I heard sounds of life out in the living room. The faint buzz of the refrigerator filled the air momentarily, and I could hear water rush into the kitchen sink.

Finally, past the point of being rude, I took a deep breath, rolled my neck on my shoulders like a fighter ready to start the match, and went out to face my opponent.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter drinking a glass of water. “Do you mind?” he asked, tipping the glass toward me.

I didn’t mind that he was drinking my water or using my glass. I did mind a million other things. I shook my head, walked into the living room, and sat down in my chair, grateful to at least be in my own space.

He came over, almost hesitantly, and I watched with perverse enjoyment as he sat down on the sex sofa. But maybe he didn’t care. He probably had his own sex sofa where he brought the girls he’d strung along for years. I felt a twinge of something like disappointment that I hadn’t even warranted an invitation to Noah’s sex sofa.

He didn’t say anything and neither did I. Instead I stared at his hands and the complicated wristwatch on his arm. I didn’t know anyone who wore a watch. We all kept time by our phones.

Noah’s watch was thick and had multiple dials and faces. I idly wondered if it kept time or helped him travel through time.