A banging against my door startles me awake, forcing me away from my peaceful dreaming state. "DAWSON!"

"Huh," I blubber out, still half-asleep. My phone rings beside me, persuading my heavy eye-lids to open as my hands pat around through the shadows of my room. The screen of my phone is blinding and I squint, struggling to read the name of the incoming call on the screen.

My muscles ache as I sit myself up in the bed, accepting the call and bringing the phone to my ear. "Wake the hell up, Dawson," Delk's voice urges from across the line, "We've been banging on your door for half an hour, dude! You've got 30 damn minutes to get your lazy ass out of that bed and to roll-call!"

"Oh shit," I mutter out, tossing the blankets off of my body and yanking myself out of the bed. I end the call, flinging my phone back onto my nightstand and tripping as I go to answer the door. I forcefully jerk against the knob, swinging the door open instantly and revealing my eyes to my two impatient friends who are waiting on the outside.

Murphy greets me with a mischievous smile, "Those wet dreams of yours are really starting to knock you out, huh?"

Delk shoves Murphy into the room, following suit behind him as they invite themselves in. "Let's get this show on the road, Dawson. Shave that pretty little face of yours, get your damn uniform on, and let's get moving." I hurry into the bathroom, turning the hot water of the sink on full-blast. Delk continues our conversation right outside, despite the wooden barrier now standing between us. "Our supervisors are gonna hand our asses to us, you know that, right?"

My fingers work quickly against my face, lathering a thick layer of shaving cream against my skin. "Yeah," I say agitated, "I know that." If there was one main lesson the military drilled into your head, it was exuding discipline and being on time. There's no way a new enlisted soldier could be trusted by higher-ups if they couldn't grasp the basic foundations of reliability and punctuality.

We are absolutely getting our asses handed to us.

"Maybe you should start reconsidering those surfing lessons with this Lelani girl? You already have a lot on your plate with work, and you're gonna end up wearing yourself out taking on too much. Honor, courage, and commitment, remember?"

"She has nothing to do with this," I insist, making sure to keep my strokes careful, but quick, as the blade of my razor meets against my neck. "It's been a week since I even had a lesson from her."

"A week?!" I hear Murphy gasp sarcastically outside, "Absence really does make the heart grow fonder, doesn't it?"

I roll my eyes, chuckling to myself, and continuing to shave my face in record-breaking time. The warm water wakes my senses as it hits my face and washes my skin of the left-over cream. Delk starts to speak up again, just as I bring my toothbrush up to my mouth. "I'm just looking out for you, man."

Delk was hands-down the dad of our friend group, and as thankful as I was to have his guidance, I've been taking care of myself for years now and I don't necessarily need someone to reprimand me for the conscious decisions I'm making. Sometimes mistakes are the biggest lessons you can learn in life. The lesson I'm learning this morning is that maybe I shouldn't stay up past midnight practicing pop-up techniques on top of a daisy-covered surfboard just for the purpose of impressing a girl.

I'll consider myself enlightened.

"I know you are," I murmur back through my toothpaste filled-mouth. I could have really benefited from a friend like Delk back when I was living in a group home. I spit into the sink, wiping the corners of my lips with the back of my hand and then giving my hair a quick brush-through with my fingertips. My eyes take a swift look over of my appearance in the mirror, noticing the deep-set dark circles forming underneath my eyes. My chest rises and falls as I release a heavy breath before stepping back into the main room.

"So tell me," Murphy begins asking, as I speedily begin stepping into my camo covered uniform, "What all do these lessons cover, huh? Does the paddling and stroking remain solely in the water?"

My neck twists back, throwing him a dirty look as he carelessly kicks back his steel toe boots on top of my bed. "You need that damn mouth of yours washed out, Murphy," My fingers work fast against the buttons of my clover, beige, and brown vest as I continue, "Not that it's any of your business, to begin with, but what's going on between Lelani and me is strictly professional."

Delk chuckles as if he doesn't believe a word of what I'm saying, "We'll see how long this 'professionalism' you speak of lasts."

"She has a thing against marines," I shrug, shoving my feet into a pair of black combat boots, "and so does her dad apparently."

"Logic doesn't hold much power against feelings, Brodie. Haven't you ever heard the saying that 'the heart always wants what it can't have'? That goes for both parties."

"Yeah," Murphy chimes in, pulling his head up from my pillow and standing to his feet. "You can't have Lelani and technically she can't have you, and that in itself is the perfect recipe for what we humans like to call intimacy, my brother. "

I quietly laugh to myself, gathering my backpack from off the floor, while I jingle my keys and cease the discussion at hand, "Let's go fellas." The three of us begin making our way to my truck outside. I make sure to avoid any more discussions surrounding Lelani, especially any that might provoke Murphy and encourage his crude-ass jokes (but hell, it's Murphy so we'll see how that goes). Even so, not talking about Lelani doesn't stop all the thoughts swimming in my head about her.

The heart always wants what it can't have... My god, if that wasn't the damn truth.

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"You three have some goddamn nerve to be walking into this shift 15 minutes late!" I can feel every drop of spit hit my face as my supervisor, who I've still not managed to remember the name of, shouts right into our faces. "You want to give me an explanation?"

Murphy and Delk stand as still as statues, barely even breathing beside me. All three of us knew why we were late this morning, and ultimately the blame falls on me. "It was my fault, sir. I slept through my alarms this morning, and Delk and Murphy stayed behind to make sure I was up."

My supervisor steps right in front of me, directing his attention away from my friends and centering all the punishment towards me. He's a whole hell of a lot shorter than me, but that doesn't make his authority any less intimidating. His dark eyes look me over, his eyebrows furrowing, "Dawson, huh," he huffs out, reading over my name badge and reminding me to take a glance at his own. "How do you expect me to trust you to work on a multi-million dollar aircraft when I can't even trust you to show up to work on time?"

"I'm sorry, sir," I mumble out, at a complete loss of words. There was no way I would be getting out of this one without a scratch.

"Speak up, son," he spits out to me, "You're a marine now, start speaking like one."

"It won't happen again, sir," I fire back louder, straightening out my back. My jaw tightens hard, and I can feel a surge of anger starting to billow in my chest, even though I only have myself to hold responsible.

"You're damn right it won't." I watch his eyes circle the room, trying to come up with a consequence for my untimeliness. "I should give you paperwork, but I'll consider this first time a warning." I nod, accepting his words with graciousness. "But since you want to waste my time, I'll take yours... You can spend your lunch break cleaning and sorting out my office."

"Aye, aye sir." Murphy, Delk, and I turn on our heels, anxious to get the hell out of this man's sights and get our asses to work before he gets the chance of yelling at us some more.

His commanding voice stops me in my tracks one last time, "You can join Hammond over there and help him finish changing out that actuator. Maybe he can teach you a thing or two about the importance of being punctual." My eyes follow the trail of my supervisor's finger, focusing on the jet in the far distance and Hammond, who's already hard at work with the wrench in his hand.

Fucking fantastic.

"And the name is Sergeant Campbell to you."

Hammond's already wearing a wicked smile as I approach him, his hands already covered in a layer of grease. "It took you long enough," he taunts, returning his eyes back to his work. "You sure are making quite the impression with our supervisor, there."

I bite against my lip, holding back all the words I want to say to Hammond, but think it best not to. I push my sleeves up to my elbows, taking the wrench from his grip, "Well, someone's gotta step up and be the reject, especially considering the fact that the role of kiss-ass is already taken."

Hammond's head cocks over to me, his jaw becoming hard as the insult rolls off my tongue. We've only been stationed at this base for a little over a month and he's already managed to become one of our leadership's favorites, and it has nothing to do with his work ethic. Hammond has a way with his words and charm, and man, has he mastered the ability to use them for his own benefit. His dark eyes squint challengingly in my direction, "You know, I heard Sergeant Campbell back there... It sucks you don't get to take a lunch break. You could have joined me and the boys at Malia's Cafe."

"Yeah, I'm good anyway," I sputter back, adjusting the piston of the actuator back into the steel framing of the aircraft.

"I'll make sure and tell Lelani you said hi."

My head darts over, "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't know? She works there. She makes a cute waitress too, and I'm positive she'll make an even better-looking date."

My face is already hot with annoyance. Well, if Hammond's is trying to get a response out of me, it sure is working. "She doesn't mess with marines. And she would never agree to go on a date with you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he replies cooly, shrugging his shoulders. Hammond starts to saunter away, "Don't look so flushed, Dawson. We both knew I had dibs on her first anyway."

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Lunchtime approaches faster than I expect it to, and even with my hands rummaging through a knee-high stack of papers, shredding them one-by-one, it's still not enough of a distraction to get my mind off of the idea of Hammond asking Lelani out on a date. I go through all the scenarios over and over again in my head, my mind especially favoring the one where Lelani completely rejects him and lets him know how much of a "dick head" she thinks he is. On the completely opposite end of that, I'm thinking about a scenario where Hammond, with his charming smile and convincing words, persuades her to end up agreeing to it. Now my hands work in a furious rage as I shred the papers, sending them through the rotating blades stacks at a time. The machine starts to shake beneath me, the sheets becoming too much for its mechanics to handle. I take a deep breath, calming my restless thoughts.

Chill the hell out, Brodie. There's no way she'd ever agree to it.

I'm careful as I continue my work, cleaning out Seargent Campbell's office. I allow my eyes to casually glance around the room, taking note of the awards and certificates decorating every corner of his personal work-space. He's had to be doing this whole military gig for some years now, especially considering his rank. An old family photograph sits at the base of his desk, featuring his wife and kids within a silver frame. I pull myself from off the ground, coming to my knees as I take a closer look at the image. Campbell's wife cradles a baby in her hands, both of their dark hair and golden skin mimicking each other's. Campbell himself wears a smile I'd never expect to see from him, his middle-school aged daughter beaming in front of him in a blue dress. She looks just like her mom, her hair falling in long dark curls along her bright face and framing her dark brown eyes. She looks so familiar...

A knock sounds against the closed door, not waiting for an answer from me before it swings open. "Dad, I brought your lunch. You left it on the counter this morning."

The person walks through the door, brown paper bag in hand as their eyes lock into mine. In utter shock, I glance back down to the picture on the desk, comparing my supervisor's daughter's features to the person now standing in front of me, until everything suddenly clicks.

"Lelani?!"

Her eyes looked as surprised as mine, her fingers losing their grip against the kraft-paper sack as it falls to the floor. She looks absolutely helpless, finally huffing out, "You've got to be kidding me."

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