Chapter 2

The next day, I didn't go to class.

That evening, there was a knock at my apartment door. Marcus stood in the hallway, still reeking of alcohol.

"Vicky, I texted you. Why didn't you reply?"

I looked down at his chat thread. The message read: "How come you weren't at training? Your absence cost the whole unit 3 points."

In high school, during military training, I'd been sick often and missed a lot of days. Back then, Marcus would write my excuse notes and gently rub my head. "Vicky, I've got your back. No one's going to say anything about you."

However, he was now blaming me for it.

Seeing me still hunched over my laptop, Marcus frowned. "Since when do you study this much?"

I gave a vague answer. "I like studying now."

He grabbed my hand after a moment of silence. "Come on, don't waste time. They're doing roll call this afternoon."

Before I could respond, his phone rang. His voice softened completely. "Don't worry, Captain Monroe. I'll get her there. I'm not hot, I'm fine. Hey, is there anything you want to drink? I can grab it on the way."

He hung up and dragged me straight to the car, fastening my seatbelt without asking.

Halfway to a beverage shop, he suddenly turned back and asked, "Do you want anything to drink?"

I kept my head down. "No."

Marcus irritably tapped the car window, his eyes turning cold. "You're going to sulk about a little military training? Really?

"You're such a spoiled brat. You can't handle the smallest bit of hardship!"

During drills, Captain Monroe would always stroke Marcus's thigh from top to bottom as he passed, but when she got to me, she'd show no mercy, rapping my knees hard with her rod.

Marcus had no idea. He just thought I was being dramatic when I complained about the pain.

I was trying to compose myself when I heard him let out a sharp laugh.

"Vicky, there are plenty of new exciting things and new exciting people at university. If you don't behave, I can replace you anytime."

Marcus bought a whole trunk full of milkshakes for everyone. Except me.

We'd been dating for years, and he was always like this—testing me, provoking me. Every single time, I'd back down and apologize.

This time, I really didn't want to. As he said, there were plenty of other options, and we were young.

When we got to the training grounds, Captain Monroe saw me arriving empty-handed. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by pure satisfaction.

She announced a game: push-ups in pairs.

Everyone paired up. I was the only one left without a partner.

I sighed and walked toward Marcus, but he didn't even look at me. He walked straight past and extended his hand to the captain.

Captain Monroe gasped. "Marcus, another girl is standing alone over there. How could you ditch her?"

Marcus's expression was flat. "Doesn't matter. I only want what I choose."

So I huddled in the corner and watched everyone play.

Nevertheless, Captain Monroe wouldn't let me rest. She had me keep count. On the final rep, she let her arms go slack, and her body dropped.

Chest to chest. Lip to lip.

Marcus didn't pull away.

Everyone cheered. He got up and wiped his mouth slowly, as if savoring the moment.

Only when his eyes caught mine did his smile die. "It was just a game. Don't overthink it."

I made a small sound and handed Captain Monroe the count. "52 in total."

Marcus's hands clenched into fists.

That night, he called. "Vicky, want to grab dinner?"

I was sitting in my apartment, slurping instant ramen, about to say no, when I heard the sound of his friends cheering in the background.

"Hey, Captain Monroe, what are you doing here? What a coincidence! Come sit, come sit."

"Man, I didn't realize how gorgeous you'd look without the uniform. We're lucky tonight!"

Marcus's voice came through again, but quieter. "You don't need to come."

He hung up.

Less than 30 minutes later, he texted me a location and a message: "Bring some hangover medicine. Everyone's had way too much to drink. Remember to drive. Get all of us back safe."