I turned to Jagger, who had his hand thrust forward. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jagger Bateman.”
“Very funny.” I shook his hand.
“Everyone acquainted?” Mr. Wolfton asked. We all mumbled our assent, even though we hadn’t looked around much. “Good. You just met your stick buddy for the rest of the class.”
“Sweet!” Jagger fist-pumped.
Fuck. My. Life. If there was one person I’d look like shit next to academically, it was Mr. Photographic Memory. I could outfly him with my eyes shut, I wasn’t blind to that, but I couldn’t compete with him on any written exam.
“You don’t look nearly as enthused as you should be.” Jagger grinned.
“Yay,” I responded with jazz hands.
“Hey, this is way better than getting paired with Carter. That guy would knock his fucking West Point ring on the damn cyclic if he could.”
“I’ll give you that one,” I answered. Carter was growing on me, but that didn’t mean I wanted the guy as my stick buddy. It had been bad enough having him as my class leader when we had the same date-of-rank.
This was a solid plan. Study. Fly. Work out. Focus.
“Come on up and write down your stick buddies on this list so I can get a record, and then you’ll be dismissed. See you bright and early tomorrow.”
The class rumbled to life, packing up for the day and shuffling to form a line at his desk.
“You cool with this stick buddy thing?” Jagger asked from behind me. “I don’t want it awkward at home.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” I answered. “I’ll still put out.”
“Holy shit, did you just make a joke?” Jagger looked at his watch, which cost more than my car, not that he’d flaunt it. “Let’s mark the moment in time where it was discovered that Grayson Masters has a sense of humor.”
I shook my head at him. “The stick buddy thing is good. You’ll push me.”
“You mean pull your ass.”
“You’re a cocky prick for someone who landed ninth in the class.” The line shifted forward.
“Yeah, well, Paisley’s heart is in tip-top shape, so I think we’ll avoid that situation in the future.”
“Oh, you have excuses.” Only two guys in front of us and we’d be to the desk. “But seriously. I need to nail this, Jagger. I can’t afford to fail anything, or to be distracted. Just studying, flying, and gym time.”
“What about lasagna? You wouldn’t take that away, would you?”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “Food is life.”
“And Sam?” He lowered his voice.
My head swung around to look at him. All the joking was gone from his eyes, leaving a serious big-brother face I recognized only because of Mia and Parker.
“What about Sam?” My muscles tensed even though my heart jumped. Damn, I reacted to her name like a prissy rom-com movie. I checked my stomach. Thank God those weren’t butterflies. Just hunger pangs.
He snorted. “Don’t think I don’t recognize the way you guys look at each other. You two could probably power the fucking house from the electrical vibe you put out the minute you’re in the same room.”
“Next?” Mr. Wolfton called, sparing me from responding to a question that I didn’t have the answer to.
“Second Lieutenants Grayson Masters and Jagger Bateman.”
“So much better than Carter,” Jagger whispered behind me.
He scribbled our names down on the running list and then looked up with a smile. “Ah, Lieutenant Masters. I have here that you graduated from the Citadel.”
My forehead puckered. “Yes, sir. I did.” In the top one percent of my class, thank you.
“Good. I’ve been informed that you’re the class leader.”
No. No. No. Hell, no. “Sir?”
He handed me a manila folder. “Here’s the class roster. Split them into platoons and get me back the phone roster by tomorrow.”
My hand froze on the folder.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in question. Jagger elbowed me in the back.
Hell, yes, there’s a problem. I didn’t have time for this. “No, sir. No problem. Thank you for the opportunity.”
I took the folder and met Jagger outside. The heat blasted us in the face as we put our covers on and headed for my truck. “What are you thinking?” Jagger asked, climbing into the passenger side as I cranked the ignition and then the air.
“Now I miss Carter.”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, the guy has his uses.”
I put the truck into drive and headed for home, my mind fumbling to grasp the concept of taking on the extra duties of class leader and still keep my grades up.
“Don’t stress. You’re not going to fail.”
“Am I that transparent?” My grip tightened on the wheel.
“You’re stressed.”
We turned into Enterprise. “Yeah, well, this isn’t as easy for me. That doesn’t mean I won’t work twice as hard to get it.”
“We’ll study, starting tonight. Whenever I’m free, I’ll help.” He laid out a detailed study plan as we pulled into our neighborhood, still going on about the merits of taping flash cards to the cabinets as I parked in the driveway next to Sam’s cabriolet. “We’ll minimize your distractions and get you into second place.”