C. Brown: Fraternizing

I jogged out to my truck— a black, lifted Dodge Ram—and hopped in, making my way over to the gym and quickly changing before throwing myself down on the flat bench and bench pressing my frustrations away.

I needed a strict game plan on how to handle Bennett, and I needed it quickly. Trying to come up with a way to handle her and keep my focus on my job was becoming more of a task than I wanted it to be. I couldn't form any coherent thoughts; all I saw were her toned legs, and her beautiful ass that rubbed against me, making me harder than a fucking rock. Her long, flowing blonde hair, and that sultry vanilla and fruit flavored smell came back to me in waves, and I yelled out as I finished a rep and placed the bar back on the stand.

"Need a spotter?" a familiar voice asked. I turned to find Castillo standing there. She had a smile on her face that I couldn't reciprocate. I was too wound up, too frustrated, and it showed through my short pants and sweat filled face.

"Not really, but you can spot me if you want."

"You look like you need a drink," she joked, instantly making me freeze.

I looked at her, breathing hard, but not saying a word. Instead, I added another twenty-five pounds to each side of the bar, bringing my grand total to two-hundred and fifty pounds, and laid down, taking the bar from her and trying to lift my frustrations away for the second time.

I lifted furiously, breathing short, hard breaths with every lift. Castillo tried a few times to take the bar after ten reps, but I couldn't stop. The extra weight seemed to be doing the trick, so I kept going, focusing only the bar and staring up at the gym lights that shone down on me.

"Done!" I breathed, holding up the bar for Castillo to take. She took it, placing it back in the holder and handing me a towel.

"What's got you so riled up?"

"Nothing," I said, glancing up to her and finding her unconvinced. "It’s Monday, and I drank too much this weekend. I need to burn it off." I wiped my sweat off with the towel, turning and throwing it into the bin before standing and walking over to the punching bags in the far left corner.

"Friday was crazy. Is Newsome alright? I saw what happened."

I began punching the bag relentlessly, picturing my own face and drilling it harder and harder with each punch, figuratively punishing myself for getting caught up and not being around to protect my brother.

"He's fine," I said through a short breath, landing more and more punches on the bag. "What happened anyway?"

"I don't know how it started, but I saw some guy push him in the back, and he turned and punched him in the face. The guy punched him back, then fists were being thrown everywhere. Smith grabbed Newsome, and Jensen ordered them out of the bar while he went to look for you." She paused for a second. "Where were you anyway?"

I stopped punching and looked at her, breathing hard as sweat beads rolled down my face. "I was nursing a beer and trying not to puke all over that bar," I lied, but it seemed to placate her as she laughed and took her stare off of me.

"Alex Cruz--drunk off his ass--having to nurse a beer. Never thought I would see the day."

"Yeah, well, those days are over. Never again," I said, throwing short, quick, but powerful punches into the bag, releasing the pent up aggression that had manifested itself in me since the morning. "Nothing good comes from that shit, and as it is, Newsome could have gotten into some serious trouble."

"Well, Smith was there with him, so I'm sure you're forgiven."

"I know, but I don't like leaving my brothers like that. I had my celebratory night, so I'm good."

"Suit yourself. I'm off to the treadmill. Care to join me?"

"Naw. I need to shower and get back, lunch is waiting on me."

"Sounds good. See you later."

"See ya."

I hustled off to the showers and threw myself under the cold water. The workout on the punching bag had definitely alleviated stress, but it hadn't taken it all away. While beating my face to a pulp felt good, the impending thought of seeing Cassie Bennett was back and looming large, causing all of that tension to seep back into my body. I stood under the water, pleading with myself to figure out a way to see her as just another student. It didn't work because as soon as I was dressed and back in my truck, my thoughts shifted to her long blonde hair in my hands while I worked my way inside of her. I wanted to peel out of the parking lot and floor it back to the schoolhouse, but there were strict speed limits and military police scattered all over the fucking place, so I drove back going twenty miles per hour while thoughts of the girl who I wanted to erase from my memory were moving a mile a minute.

Back at the schoolhouse, I marched out to the formation without so much as looking in her direction. I hated that she had such a powerful effect on me with only the sight of her. We made our way in and Newsome started with the introductory chapter on radio communications in the Marine Corps. I sat in the back, plugging things into the computer while he and Jensen took over the class. I wasn’t in the mood to stand before students today, so being the head instructor, I shifted the lectures over to the guys, freeing myself up.

Before long, it was 1530, and time to release the class for the day. I had never been so thankful—thankful to get her out of my presence and thankful to find my bearings and get a hold of myself.

Hopefully.

"Tomorrow, at zero five thirty, you are to meet in front of the schoolhouse, in your PT gear. That means your green, unmarked t-shirt and green shorts. You will run your preliminary physical fitness test consisting of pull-ups, crunches, and a three mile run. You fail, and you will find yourself with extra workouts until we feel you are ready to run it again. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Sergeant," the class yelled.

"Dismissed."

The class filed out, all too excited to leave for the day. I noticed Bennett and Ruiz straggling behind, so I motioned for Jensen to come and handle the one who wasn't driving me bat shit crazy.

"Follow me to my office please, Pfc. Bennett," I called out as I walked out of the classroom. She lagged a bit, but shortly after I heard her boots pounding the pavement as she strode behind me.

"Hey, Bennett," another voice called, making me slow my steps. I tried not to be obvious by turning around to see who it was, but I couldn't help myself. It was another male, and that annoyed the living shit out of me.

"I'll catch ya in a minute," she responded, never breaking her stride.

From my glance back, I noticed that it was some shithead student by the name of Pfc. Dalton. I recognized him from Smith's Data class. He was tall and slender, and looked harmless, but the fact the he was waiting for her just didn't sit well with me.

I made my way into my office, making sure to leave the door cracked open so as not to leave myself in another compromising situation.

"Take a seat," I ordered, motioning for her to sit in the chair directly beside my desk. "Let's not pretend that we don't know who each other is," I started, coming across much more harshly than I intended to. "We had a night at the bar that will never happen again."

She sat still, looking directly at me but never saying a word. Her big, doe-like eyes were making me lose my self-restraint, and I swallowed hard before continuing.

"I should have found out who you were before I ever made a move on you, and I apologize for that. But we have a job to do, and professionalism is paramount here, so as long as we know where we stand, and that those boundaries will never be crossed again, we should be good. Do you understand that?"