Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
How quickly all of that had been forgotten when I was with Colt. Christ, one might think we’d shared more than twenty-four hours together.
That following Thursday, I worked from home before I was to meet up with my friends.
It was four minutes past ten in the morning when my computer dinged with a notification that Colt had accepted my friend request on Facebook.
Finally, I could gain access to his profile. The past few days, I’d only seen his profile picture. Which wasn’t even of him. It was just a fighter jet.
“Sweet Jesus.” I leaned forward and clicked my way through his pictures. Most of them were Air Force-related. Him standing with his shoulders squared and arms folded over his chest in front of the fighter jet he flew. An F-16, I’d learned through some late-night research. There were pictures of him and his buddies. All geared up in flight suits, dressed down in tees and military-style pants, dressed down further in workout clothes… More fighter jets—Christ, loads of them.
I got the distinct feeling that he had a thing for jets.
I smiled and drank from my coffee.
There were a few pictures of his family too. His mother was a short, lovely-looking lady, and she wore the proudest smile standing there wedged between Colt and his father. And she appeared every bit as proud in the next photo, which was of just her and another woman, who I assumed was Colt’s sister. The siblings shared similar features to their dad. Rich brown hair with lighter streaks, green eyes. Colt’s sister looked like another hell-raiser. She had the same smirk as Colt. She was a couple inches taller than their mother.
A message popped up, and I clicked on it right away.
Hey. Sorry I haven’t been available until now. Work’s crazy before we ship out. I’m back at Shaw. We leave tomorrow. Hope you’re well, pretty boy. I have just enough time to stalk your photos for a bit before my debriefing from today’s training. Talk soon. –Top
I chuckled, feeling absurdly giddy at his quick reappearance in my life today. Of course he signed off with his call sign. Top. To bug me, no doubt.
I fired off a response for him to read when he had the time.
Good to hear from you, little one. :-) No need to apologize. I know you’re busy. I actually read something for family and friends of service members. I don’t expect frequent updates, so don’t worry. And I know you’ll be in another mind-set when you’re overseas. Just take care of yourself, and I’m here for whenever. –A toppier Top.
I wanted him to know I’d read up on deployments. Even if we were only friends, at best—and very new ones—I took this seriously. I wouldn’t bother him with frivolous crap when he was in the middle of a war zone. He’d have enough pressure and distractions.
Colt sent me a quick reply before he signed off.
You’re such a fucking Daddy. Oh, and the third picture in your album, the one with your sleeves rolled up? I saved it to jerk off to. Later.
I laughed under my breath and went to my album to see what picture he’d saved. I was friends with my parents on Facebook, so I knew it wouldn’t be anything scandalous.
“Huh.” There were better photos than that one, though. A friend had taken it of me last summer. We’d been to an outdoor craft beer festival, and you could see I’d had more than a few beers by the time the picture was taken. My smile was wider than usual, my eyes a little glassy. I remembered having just laughed my ass off because another friend had spilled beer on us. Which, thankfully, didn’t show because my shirt was black. My pants had been another story—gray had become black—but they were hidden under the table where we sat.
I’d had a bit of a tan after a weekend in Providence.
So maybe I would wear that button-down when I saw Colt again?
It took me a few weeks, but at long last, I eased back into the everyday life I’d cultivated to fit me the past couple of years. There was structure and a routine that I enjoyed, set hours for work and always a plan with friends.
The fact that Colt had the ability to shake the foundation rattled around in my head, though I did my best to put him in the category where he belonged. He was a Facebook friend. One I was indescribably drawn to, but a Facebook friend nonetheless.
It actually helped that we didn’t talk much. A couple short messages here and there, that was all.
He was in Iraq.
I watched the news a lot more lately.
Not today, though. I’d had a taxing meeting with my father, who was disappointed I wanted to leave the company, so I’d needed a distraction. When a friend had called to ask if I could fill in as dungeon monitor at a kink event, I’d jumped at the opportunity to get out of my apartment.