Undeclared (The Woodlands) - By Jen Frederick Page 0,17

here.” I had never ridden in a pickup before and was surprised at how roomy it was. The vehicle smelled new.

“You just get this?” I asked him as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Smell give it away?” He honked twice to get a couple of people to move out of the driveway and then backed up.

“Hard to hide that new car smell.”

“I got it this summer. Bo told me he was done ferrying my ass around,” Noah said. I remembered Noah telling me once that they were always being counseled to not spend their entire earnings on a new car or a motorcycle or a boat when they were back on leave or just returned from deployment. Noah must have listened to them.

“So you didn’t spend all your money on new wheels the moment you separated?”

“Nope, had other plans.”

I refrained from taking the bait to ask more information, even though I was dying for it. After a few beats of silence, Noah said, “Not going to ask me about my other plans?”

“Not interested,” I lied, looking out the window. He made a couple of turns and then headed down Forest. Noah navigated the campus streets like an upperclassman and not some new transfer who had been in town only two weeks since classes started.

“You seem to know this area pretty well.”

When his answer wasn’t immediate, I knew he was going to tell me something that would make me angry again. By his sheepish tone, he knew it too.

“I’ve been here since June,” he admitted.

“In town?” I could hear the high-pitched screeching tone of my question and tried to swallow down my mounting emotions.

He nodded. He started to say something but then slowed the vehicle. “I don’t see any house party.” He turned slightly and called to the back, “Where to on Forest, ladies?”

Lana didn’t respond. When I turned around, I saw both of them had passed out. They must have had a lot of tequila shots.

There was nothing to do but to take them—and Noah—home.

Noah

Grace’s body was rigid in the passenger seat of my truck. She was strung tighter than a garrote wire.

The Marines had taught me a lot. I learned all the delicate pressure points on a man’s body. I learned to walk a hundred miles in full battle rattle, carrying a pack and ammunition heavier than the two girls in the back seat. I learned how to start a fire in the desert out of nothing more than a soda can, toothpaste, and the sun.

But the Marines had not taught me how to win over a girl whose heart I had broken. Most of the guys in my unit were the ones who had been cheated on. Sure, some of the guys may have forgotten their hometowns when the Air Force chicks or supply personnel arrived at a forward operating base, but most of us were lonely bastards.

I admit that the few times I imagined Grace and I getting together, there was a lot less space between our bodies. When I played this moment out in my mind, I figured I’d calmly explain what happened, and she’d listen intently. I’d apologize and then take her to a movie or two before showing her exactly why she should be with me. In bed.

Right now Grace would probably rather climb in bed with a rattler. I grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed the tight muscles there in frustration. Maybe I should’ve taken Bo up on his offer to strategize, but his relationship experience was as non-existent as mine. Getting advice from another Marine on how to handle a relationship was like asking another orphan how to handle your parents.

Ironically, the one person in my life who I felt comfortable enough confiding personal shit to and who might give me halfway decent advice was sitting in the passenger side of the truck, doing her best to ignore me.

I wrote stuff to Grace that I would never say out loud. Communicating with her had never been an issue before. But we were writing then. Letters only. Old school style, we agreed early on. I cast around for a reasonable explanation, one that didn’t make me out to look too much like a loser. My previous explanation, “I had to get my shit together,” didn’t seem like it would cut it.

I glanced at her in her shiny blue top with its bow I’d like to untie with my teeth. Her brown hair looked incredibly soft, and I wanted to dig my