“You don’t strike me as someone who shies away from a challenge.”
“I don’t,” I say, straightening my shoulders. I meet every challenge head-on and always rise above, whether it was memorizing all the US presidents the summer after third grade because my dad told me I couldn’t or meeting the guys’ PT requirements freshman year because, as a girl, I didn’t want to be treated any differently. Failure is never an option for me.
But this is different. This isn’t a challenge. And why does he care anyway? Unless … “Wait, are you saying you want to date me?”
“No!” His answer comes out quick and loud. “I mean, I’ve got a girlfriend. I’m just saying if you did find someone you liked, you could probably make it work.”
“I don’t want to make it work.”
“Why not?”
“I need to focus on school and getting into the academy.”
His brow furrows as he watches me. “That doesn’t seem like a twenty-four/seven job.”
“It is.”
“Then you shouldn’t leave campus for your personal time.”
“Why?”
He picks up the amp and returns it and the guitar to the back of the room. When he rejoins me, he says, “Your personal time should be spent focusing on school and getting into the academy, not hiking with friends or eating ice cream.”
I shake my head. “That’s downtime to help me relax after a hard week.”
“You don’t think dating would be relaxing?”
“No. Because inevitably I’d let my boyfriend borrow my car and he’d crash into something and then the police would get involved and all my dreams would be turned upside down.”
“Touché,” he says with a chuckle. “You do have a point; however, things were good with my girlfriend before the accident.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to date after I finish the academy. And become a pilot.”
“When will that be?”
“Six years or so,” I reply with a shrug. It’s really not that long.
“You’re not going to date at all until you’re like twenty-four?”
I nod.
“Some people are married and have a kid by then.”
I shrug again. “Not me.”
“Wow.”
Again he stares at me with that blank face that says nothing and a million things all at once. “What?” I ask.
“Have you ever even kissed a guy?”
I shake my head.
“Never?”
“No. Why?”
“You almost kissed me today.”
“I already told you it was a momentary lapse in judgment.”
“You don’t think you’ll have any more of those in the next six years?”
I start to shake my head, then stop. How can I guarantee such a thing? I never thought I’d be tempted to kiss Logan, but it happened when I least expected it.
“You’re totally out of touch with reality,” he says. “And your hormones. At some point, you’re gonna find a guy so hot all your ridiculous rationalizing will fly out the window.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay.” He has a straight face, but his pale green eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lights like he’s laughing.
“You don’t believe me,” I say.
“Nope.”
“I would never risk my career for a guy.”
“And … there’s the ridiculous rationalizing. Why does it have to be one or the other? I bet you’re a great multitasker.”
“I am, but that’s beside the point.”
“That is the point, right? You’re afraid if you spend time with a guy then you won’t study as hard or work out as much, right?”
Yes. But if I agree, he’ll tell me my plan is flawed, which I don’t need to hear. Even if there were only a small chance of dating interfering with my future, I wouldn’t risk it. “Why do you even care about this?” I ask.
He opens his mouth, then closes it. After a moment, he says, “You’re right. It’s none of my business, and last time I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, you almost kissed me. I’d hate for you to have another momentarily lapse in judgment so soon after your last one. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined your chances at the Air Force Academy.”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a grin. “It’s not going to happen again.” Yes, his lips are still nice and I’m finding his musical ability quite attractive, but admiring from afar will be the extent of it from now on.
My dad and the CFA are big enough obstacles; I can’t let anything else interfere with my dreams.
CHAPTER 15
PAIGE
“Nine point six seconds,” Leah says with a sigh.
I pound my fist into a stack of football pads laying on the side of the track while my labored breaths come out as white mist in the cold afternoon air. Two-tenths of a second too slow. The CFA has clearly defined goals. If I don’t reach nine point four seconds, I don’t reach the goal, which would likely mean no academy—Navy or Air Force. I’ve been practicing every day this week and still can’t get to where I need to be.
“Let’s try again,” Leah suggests. “You’re not turning your hips all the way on the pivot. Get them facing back the way you came.”
I nod and catch my breath. “Okay, one more time.” I take my place behind the start line and wait for Leah’s command.
“On your mark … get set … go.”
I take off as fast as I can, my legs pushing off the ground and propelling me forward. When I reach the other line, I remember Leah’s words and concentrate on bringing my hips all the way around as my fingertips on the ground steady me. Then I push off again and repeat two more times.
“Nine point five!” she says, giving me a high five when I finish. “You looked much better that time.”
“I’m still too slow.”
“Maybe try alternating your pivot leg? I read that can help.”
“I’ll try anything at this point.” I wipe my forehead with my sweatshirt and take a couple deep breaths. While I’m doing that, I see Logan enter the track on the far side. He does a few stretches and then starts a slow jog.
“Ready?” Leah asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, focusing back on my task with a newfound sense of confidence. Perhaps alternating my pivot leg is all it will take. Unfortunately, it turns out to be harder than I expect, and my time shows it. Nine point nine seconds. The worst time I’ve gotten in weeks.
I shove my hands through my hair, messing up my braid, and groan in frustration. I’m successful in everything I do. Sometimes it might take weeks of practice, but I’m always successful. Until this. I don’t know what it is about this exercise, but I seem incapable of conquering it no matter how much time and effort I put in. I’ve never given up on anything, but I’m beginning to wonder if this might be a first. Of course, then I could kiss the Air Force goodbye. I have no choice. I have to do this. I have to pass no matter what.
“Everything okay?” Logan asks when he approaches us on the track.