“Bex told me your friends slow clapped for her the first night she slept here with Preston.” I lean my back against the wall, and he lowers his hand. “I don’t want them to slut shame me for sleeping over.”
“One…” he says, holding up his long index finger, “… you’re not a slut to shame you. And two,” he says, adding another finger, “You’re with me. And I’ll kick their fucking asses if they even think about it.”
“Technically, that was three things,” I point out. “Not two.”
He shakes his head, his laughter filling the air. “What am I gonna do with you, woman?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
After a quick peck on the lips, he drags me by the hand downstairs and into the kitchen. Bex is at the table next to Preston wearing his clothes. She looks at me, shocked to see me wearing Drake’s. I grab the hem of Drake’s shirt. Bex does the same with Preston’s Strickland Senators tee. We both laugh.
“Morning, twinsie,” I say to her, joking as I sit at the table next to her. “I see you’re dressed in the sleepover attire.”
We’re literally wearing the same hockey T-shirt and our men’s boxers.
Drake and Preston look at each other, confused until they realize what we’re talking about.
“Oh, shit,” Drake says, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, this was definitely accidental. We don’t have clothes lying around for when girls sleep over.”
“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow at him. “How often is that?”
He sits next to me and lowers his voice. “Never. You know that.” But when Preston glances over at him, he raises his voice and adds, “Because they don’t last that long.”
I pat his knee, deciding to play along. “Well, when you put it that way, I feel like I made it to the end of The Hunger Games.”
Bex snorts. “More like The Hooker Games.”
Laughing, I slap her on the arm playfully. “Shut up, bitch, or I’ll take out my bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.”
Drake and Preston laugh at our exchange.
“You sure know how to pick ’em,” Preston says to Drake talking about me. “I like this one.”
“Me, too,” Jamie says, dropping a plate of crispy bacon at the center of the table. “She knew what VR meant. Not like you losers.”
Drake squeezes my hand over his, pinning it against his thigh.
“I hope you like waffles,” Shannon says from the island at the center of the kitchen. “I made tons of them.”
“Yeah, love them. They served them every morning in the chow hall in Europe.”
“How many places have you lived?” Shannon asks, walking over to the table with Jamie, who’s carrying a plate of Belgian waffles.
“Um…” I have to think about all the cities I’ve lived in over the years.
They take their places at the head of the table and pass out plates. Jamie and Shannon work as a team until every person has food in front of them.
“Ten cities,” I think. “I was born in North Carolina. They stationed my dad at the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point. Then, we moved around the U.S. until I was around ten years old before my dad got a promotion and moved us to Panzer Kaserne in Germany. Of all the places I lived, that was my favorite. The Exchange is like a mall in the U.S. Every Friday after school, my dad would take my brother and me after work.”
Shannon shoves a piece of waffle in her mouth and stares at me intently. “What’s school like on a military base?” She chews her food and then finishes, “I bet it’s different from here.”
I shake my head. “No, not really. In Germany, they still have an elementary, middle, and high school on base. It’s like a small city in its own right. You never have a reason to leave. But not every base is the same.”
“That’s also where Taylor learned martial arts,” Bex interjects.
“Oh, really?” Shannon’s voice creaks. “Was that part of your schooling?”
“No, it’s required in the Marine Corps. My dad taught my brother and me. At one point my dad was real big into boxing.”
Bex snorts. “He was on the All-Marine Boxing Team. I’d say he was a little more than into it.”
