Chapter Six #2
“C’mon, guys,” Matt’s boat crew leader entreated them as they ran. “We may be small, but we’re mighty. Keep going. Chow at the end of it, right?”
Matt gritted his teeth against the burning in his shoulders from the weight of the boat overhead.
“Hey, smurf.” A breathless, unmistakable voice came from off to Matt’s left, and he turned his head to see Shane grinning at him from under his own boat. “Can I call you that? Soupy the Smurf has such a ring to it.”
“Fuckin’ clown,” Matt ground out, sweat dripping from the end of his nose. “Fuck you.”
Shane winked at him. “I’ll try not to eat all the scrambled eggs before you get there. No promises, though.” He and his taller crew picked up the pace and outdistanced Matt’s group easily.
Matt shifted his grip on the boat handle, feeling a welcome surge of adrenaline at Shane’s taunt.
You can do this. Just get to chow. Don’t think of anything beyond that.
Just get to chow. He pictured the route to the mess hall, imagining his feet barely skimming the ground as he made his way there.
This boat was light as a feather, and a huge plate of eggs and bacon awaited him.
“One foot in front of the other, guys,” Matt gasped encouragement. “One step at a time!”
They kept at it, eventually stumbling to a halt in front of the chow hall.
“Much too slow!” Bernson yelled when the final boat crew shuffled into place. “You’re pissing me off. Drop! Feet on the boat!”
Everyone lowered their boat and got into push-up position with their feet up along the sides of it. The elevated posture put screaming tension on already-sore shoulders, and the air was soon filled with pained grunts of exertion.
Bernson paused by Matt’s crew. “I did see some good spirit out there today, people. Keep it up.”
Matt basked in the praise, not even caring that Bernson had them push twenty out before calling for them to recover.
“Get some chow. Get out of my sight.”
As they all piled into the chow hall, Matt couldn’t help but needle Shane. “See? Even smurfs got game.”
Shane nudged him with his shoulder. “Nobody said you have to be big. You just have to be relentless. I’m starting to think that’s your middle name.”
With that, Shane trotted on ahead, leaving Matt grinning like a fool.
He wiped it off his face before anyone saw, only to have it return when Shane reappeared and handed him a huge plate piled high with scrambled eggs.
“She just put a new pan out, so I snagged some off the top for you. Hot and fresh.”
Matt took the plate in bemusement. “Um, stop being so nice to me, man. It’s confusing. People might think we’re friends or something.”
“I’m a nice guy. What can I say?”
With a shrug, Shane loped off to join his boat crew, who were crowded around a table shoveling their food in like there was no tomorrow.
Matt joined his own crew, unable to keep from sneaking looks over at Shane, mortification making his ears burn hot when Shane met his eyes on the last one, mouthing “What?” with one palm turned up in inquiry.
Spinning back around, Matt applied himself to his meal, almost positive he could hear Shane’s amused chuckle from across the noisy, crowded room.
The rest of the day was just as brutal as the morning had been.
The cadre worked them hard, keeping them on the knife-edge of hypothermia and exhaustion by continuously sending them into the surf with no breaks from one evolution to the next.
When they were finally secured around seven p.m., Matt didn’t think he’d ever been so worn out in his entire life.
He trudged toward the barracks, his new roommate falling into step beside him.
Trey Jordan was a medical rollback from a previous class after he’d contracted pneumonia halfway through Hell Week, and he was a treasure trove of information about what they could expect.
He was also a positive, upbeat dude and Matt genuinely liked him.
“Hey, brother.”
They bumped knuckles wearily.
“Man, you look like shit,” Trey croaked with a commiserating smirk. “Even pastier than usual.”
Matt huffed, eyeing Trey’s black skin, which was coated with salt and grit. “And you’re bringing half the fucking beach into our room.”
Bickering amicably, they pulled themselves up the stairs.
“First day’s the hardest,” Trey said as Matt unlocked their door.
“I mean, they’re all hard, but if you can get through this first Monday, you can get through the rest. They won’t hammer us quite this much from now on, but it’s the cold that’s gonna get to you, wear you down. ”
Matt gave a shudder at the memory of the day’s relentless surf torture.
Almost all the guys who DORed that day, six in all, had quit after being ordered back into the sea yet again.
Matt had never experienced cold like this before, and being from North Dakota, that was saying something.
This was…different. It was cruel, it went bone deep, and it served to demoralize their group more than any physical exercise ever could.
In the bathroom, Matt stripped off his damp, sandy uniform and kicked it into a pile before unloading the rest from his duffel.
Each evolution meant a uniform change, so even though training was done for the day, he still had laundry to do, boots to polish, equipment to clean—they’d all be lucky if they got to sleep before midnight.
After showering and changing into some jeans and a T-shirt, Matt grabbed a laundry basket and headed for the barracks laundry, only to see guys already lined up three deep waiting for machines. He groaned to himself. Make that two a.m. before he’d see his bed.
Resigned to wait, Matt caught a glimpse of Shane lurking along the edges of the group, circles under his eyes, his face drawn with exhaustion.
The small laundry room smelled of sweat and seawater, and the loud chatter and laughter echoing off the ceiling felt like it was piercing Matt’s skull.
God, what he wouldn’t give for a few hours of fucking peace and quiet.
Maybe he should just try to find a laundromat off-base.
Matt grimaced at the thought of kids running around, maybe having to make small talk with strangers.
Ugh. That’d be worse than waiting here.
Suddenly a crazy idea popped into his head, and propping his laundry basket on his hip, Matt picked his way through the crowd over to where Shane was slumped against the opposite wall.
“I’ll give you a ride to your house,” Matt said to him breathlessly, “if I can use your washing machine.”
Shane grinned, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t long until they eased to the curb in front of Shane’s house, which was all lit up, and Matt recognized Alexis’s car in the driveway.
He hesitated. “Will your sister mind—”
“Nah. The baby’s in bed, or I would’ve called her to come pick me up for just this reason. I don’t wanna wait all night to do my fucking laundry either.” Shane got out of the truck and slammed the door. “Let me just make sure she’s decent first.”
He disappeared into the house, not thirty seconds later beckoning to Matt from the porch. Matt grabbed his stuff and followed him inside, where Shane introduced him to Alexis. Her expression was welcoming as she shook his hand.
“Laundry room is in the back there, so help yourself. I’ll make you boys some spaghetti while you wait. How’s that sound?”
“Like heaven. Thanks, Lex.” Shane wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
Matt declined Shane’s offer of a beer, then went out to the backyard to shake the sand from his clothes before tossing everything into the washer.
When he returned to the kitchen, Shane was sprawled at the dining room table, already on his second beer from the looks of it.
He shot Matt a lazy, relaxed grin. “Have a seat, Soup. Sure you don’t want a Corona? ”
“I’m sure.” Matt smiled gratefully at Alexis when she handed him a huge glass of cranberry juice instead.
As he sipped it, he studied her, deciding that the Hovland family genes were something else.
Alexis wasn’t as tall as Shane, but she was just as beautiful, with the same amazing blue eyes.
Her blond hair was caught up in a messy bun, some strands here and there falling down to frame her face.
“Are you Shane’s roommate, Matt?”
Matt gave an exaggerated shudder when he noticed Shane smirking at him. “Hell, no.”
“Ah.” Alexis laughed. “Shane has that effect on people. They either want to kiss him or punch his lights out, there’s no in between.”
How about both? He covered up the disturbing thought by kicking Shane hard under the table. “He’s a clown, that’s for sure.”
Shane flipped him the bird even as he lashed his foot out to kick him back. Matt jerked to the side to avoid it, bumping the table and causing his juice to slosh.
“Wow, can’t take you anywhere,” Shane said in disgust while Matt mumbled apologies to Alexis, who handed him some paper towels.
“No worries. It’s kinda nice to have a kitchen full of idiotic men again.” She turned away, but not before Matt caught the look of sadness that flitted over her face. He glanced at Shane, who was watching her, his eyes solemn and tinged with worry.
A short, uncomfortable silence fell, not broken until Alexis placed huge helpings of spaghetti and crusty garlic bread in front of them. “Eat up, boys!”
No need for a second invitation. Across from him Shane slurped his noodles noisily and earned himself a whack on the head by Alexis. “Caveman,” she said in disgust.
Shane only grinned at her, strands of spaghetti hanging out of his mouth, sauce on his chin.
He glanced at Matt. “Sisters.” Despite his annoyed tone, his eyes held a mixture of tenderness and amusement, and there was a softness on his face that tugged on Matt’s heart.
The two of them really loved each other.
“Wow,” he muttered when he got up to carry his plate to the sink. “Talk about eating you out of house and home. Sorry. And thanks. It was delicious.”