Fly With Me by Chanel Cleeton

the deference that he was given.
    We walked the rest of the way to the hotel and he pointed out things on the base, holding my hand the whole time. As much as he gave off the cool, tough guy vibe, I loved that he didn’t shy away from being sweet with me, that he didn’t care who saw. Every moment I spent with him made me like him a little bit more, unveiling a side that was even more intriguing.
    He took me up to his room and we dropped off our bagsand then he grabbed his wallet and a lanyard with an ID card on it and held his hand out to me.
    â€œCome on, I’ll take you to see the flight line and the squadron.”
    I fucking melted.
    I wouldn’t have protested if he’d led with sex; hell, food baby or no food baby, I’d been ready to jump him again for a while now. But he wanted to show me where he worked. And he genuinely looked excited to do it.
    I really liked him.
    He took me on a short tour of the base as we headed to the flight line, his arm draped around my shoulders, pointing out the various sights. I didn’t know what I’d expected a military base to look like, but I walked around wide-eyed as he gave me a crash course in how the base operated. We walked over to the building where he had been working while he was at Nellis for the past couple weeks and he pointed out the flight line across the street, showing me the row of F-16s.
    â€œThere’s no flying on the weekends, but you’ll hear them taking off tomorrow morning. They’re loud.”
    They looked loud. They were huge, gray, intense. The guy who I’d spent the night with felt even more like a mystery. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what it would be like to sit in the cockpit and fly one of these things. What it would be like to go to war in one, to do the kind of maneuvers he described now, to fire
missiles
or drop
bombs.
He said his primary mission was suppression of enemy air defenses, and while I had no clue what that meant, it sounded badass in a way that was far out of the realm of badass I’d previously measured all other things by.
    â€œIt means we’re the first ones in during a conflict,” heexplained. “We take out the enemy’s air defense systems to protect the other planes.”
    And suddenly badass began to sound really fucking dangerous. I swallowed, reconciling this new part with all the other ones I’d learned about him.
    Noah flashed a badge at some scary-looking security guys with some serious weaponry that had me sidling up closer to him, and then we were standing next to one of those giant metal beasts, and I once again struggled to get my bearings. As much as I stood out, he looked like he’d been born to be here, that feeling that I’d first gotten when I saw him at the club coming back to me.
    This was his kingdom.
    Noah stroked the metal with a gleam of pride that was both paternal and loving as he explained to me how the planes had the base and squadron they were from painted on their tails, as he threw out complicated terms and palmed the training missiles affixed to the jet. We walked along the row of F-16s, and he pointed out the one with his name, rank, and call sign painted below the cockpit.
    He answered all my questions, explaining what the training missiles were and how they worked. He told me that part of his job was teaching guys how to fight in the air, and given the way he went through the process with me—clearly and methodically—I totally got how he would be really amazing at it.
    â€œWhat’s it like?” I asked as we began walking off the flight line.
    â€œFlying?”
    I nodded.
    He was quiet for a beat and I realized he wasn’t with me anymore, that he was somewhere else, up in the sky.
    â€œIt’s the ultimate rush. Everything fades away when I’m in the jet. For an hour or so, my entire world narrows to this cockpit. In one moment, it feels like I have the world in the palm of my hand,