Seven Letter Words #Wattys2016

Part 9

Liam

I opened the hotel room door and set her bags down on the table near the TV. The beds were made and it was clear room service had been in since the funeral. This room looked terrible when I left it this morning after four guys sharing it. The cots had been out and there were old food wrappers and a few empty beer bottles on every counter. Now it was spotless and the towels had been replaced.

Juliet looked around the room, hesitant to make herself comfortable. She looked so worn out; I wondered how long it would take before she was asleep. "Do you want to use the shower first?"

"Yes, thank you." She moved over and unzipped her bag, pulling out a few items. "I won't take long, I promise."

"Take your time." I tossed my cover on the table and then began to unbutton each of the brass buttons in my jacket. I heard the bathroom door close and lock behind her. I slid the jacket from my shoulders and un-tucked the t-shirt I had beneath it. Next I sat down on the corner of the bed and untied my shoes. It felt so good to be back in the air conditioning. It was crazy how far I'd been in the last week.

With my shoes off and my belt unfastened, I scooted myself back up to the pillows on the bed. Earlier I had text my family to let them know there was something I needed to take care of before I came home. They'd been very understanding of everything I was going through and told me to be safe and they'd see me soon. I was free to take Juliet to her father's.

I hadn't even felt tired, but as my head rested on a pillow, I felt my eyes get heavy. I'd crossed time zones and climates this last week and it was finally catching up to me. I folded my hands on my chest and shut my eyes for just a minute as I waited for the shower water to turn off. It was such a privilege to be lying on a soft bed in an air-conditioned room.

The fan in the AC unit whirled on with a loud clink, and my heart raced beneath my palms. The air around me felt stale and hot as I marched behind Gaver and Pines. Sanchez was out in front, talking shit about how hot it was and why we had to do patrol when we'd just done it a few hours ago. I didn't ask those questions anymore. I just did what I was told and counted down the days until I could come home.

The small town was familiar to us now. We'd done this route many times since we first arrived. Sanchez stopped to adjust his gear and Pines gave him a small nudge when he passed. Sanchez was the oldest of us. We gave him a lot of flack for being an old man. It's funny to think that he still was a young guy in the eyes of the world. The military had it's own rules when it came to who was too old to serve.

Voices cracked through on our radio, muffled and hard to understand. Sometimes we had to step outside the makeshift buildings to hear it better and I wondered with all the technology in the world why we were still using radios. Sweat was dripping down the back of my neck and making the layer of dirt on my face feel like thick mud. I swiped at it before it could slip into my eyes.

I felt my heart rate pick up when there wasn't anyone in the center of the town as we emerged. Quickly, we ducked back behind the wall without even having to communicate our concern to each other. So many training missions had prepared us for moments like that, but none could prepare you for the way your heart would pound so violently it would make you dizzy. My adrenaline was rushing through my veins so quickly I could hear the small whoosh sound my pulse made as it passed by my ears.

We were hyper vigilant, scanning the open area from our semi-protected positions. The sound of animals seemed out of place in the otherwise quiet desert town. Sanchez signaled silently to us to return from where we came. There weren't enough of us to do anything if it was an ambush. Our only option was to go back to the road and call in help.

As we cautiously stepped back the first thud of a bullet hitting the dirt wall above us seemed to penetrate the air and cause the feeling to be felt inside our bones. The breath rushed from my lungs as Sanchez motioned again for us to fall back. I could hear the rapid feed of an automatic weapon in the distance and I posed my rifle in the direction from which the first bullet hit. My finger was on the trigger as Sanchez kicked my foot, urging me to retreat.

The hand around my foot seemed out of place. Sanchez had his weapon in his hands. I looked down and jerked my foot away, vaguely aware that something wasn't right. I reached for the wrist, momentarily releasing my own weapon in the confusion. My fingers crushed down and twisted, pulling the hand and its owner up to my face.

"Liam!" her voice called, breaking through the fog of the dream and shattering the quiet around us. I became aware of the clinking fan under the hotel window and quickly turned my head in its direction. "Liam," she urged again, her small wrist twisting beneath my tight fingers. I looked back to her, my heart pounding in my throat and my lungs sucking in and then pushing out air at a forced pace. "It's me. It's me," she said, fear and disbelief in her eyes. It took a second for my brain to catch up. I'd been dreaming again—or better yet, having a nightmare. I'd been reliving those moments with Pines since the night we'd gotten back to base after his death.

"I'm sorry," I said, releasing the hold on her wrist. She pulled it back to her own chest and rubbed at it. "I must have fallen asleep."

"I was just trying to let you know it's your turn in the shower." She was wearing an over-sized high school football t-shirt that fell a few inches below her ass. My eyes were drawn to the smooth skin of her legs beneath it. My heart was beating quickly then for an entire different reason. I couldn't look away.

"I'm sorry," I tried again, clearing my throat and moving to sit up. My eyes slowly lifted from the bottom of her shirt to the logo and year that rested on her breasts. Her chest was heaving too and I felt like shit for scaring her. I'm so glad she was able to wake me before I'd really done any damage. I reached for her wrist again, slower this time and rubbed my thumb across the red flesh. She didn't flinch or pull away and I was so grateful she still trusted me even after I'd almost hurt her.

"It's ok," she answered, watching my face as I tied to figure out whose shirt was covering her perfect body. Focusing on something other than the details of that day helped bring me back. I noticed the way the logo was cracked, worn from years of wash and wear. The year 2009 was printed below the mascot holding a football. I did the math quickly and decided that the shirt was probably Pines'.

I let her wrist go and brought my eyes up to hers. "I'll grab my stuff and wash off. I hope you don't mind my sleeping on this bed, I won't get any rest if I'm not between the door and you." I stood up and the closer proximity had me immersed in her fresh scent. It had been months—let's just leave it at that. She reached for her hair that was hanging wet down her back and twisted it over her shoulder. That was going to be a mistake. I turned my head away quickly knowing that the thin white fabric was about to become transparent when the moisture from her hair seeped into it. If I didn't look away right in that moment, I wasn't going to be able to look away.

I stepped around her and grabbed my entire bag. I'd worry about grabbing my needed items behind the closed door. I shut the door and flipped the lock, saying quietly to myself, "You better have fucking appreciated that Pines," with a small shake of my head.