Next to Me by AnnaLisa Grant Page A

that I thought you were sort of good looking, too,” I say.
    “Sort of good looking? I’ll try to kick it up a notch for you!” We both laugh and it feels really good. I’ve been out with so many boring guys that it’s just really nice to laugh with someone.
    “Why did you shave?” I ask, cupping his jaw with my hand. He closes his eyes for a second, seeming to enjoy my touch. I move my hand away quickly because I know if I leave it there much longer I’ll throw my insistence that we keep things non-sexual out the window.
    “I go through phases. Sometimes it’s because I like the way a rough beard looks, sometimes it’s because I’m lazy. I had an important meeting with a new client this morning – my work thing – so I felt like I needed to shave,” he explains. “You don’t like it?”
    “I don’t know. I think I might like it either way,” I tell him. “The beard is a little rough on my skin, but I didn’t mind so much.” I touch my cheek and blush even more as I remember just how incredible it felt to kiss him. “Ok…enough about your good looks. You’re avoiding my question about your job,” I say, turning the subject back around.
    “Well…I did a couple of tours in Iraq and ended up moving into an Intelligence position,” he begins.
    “You were in the military?” I ask, a little, but not totally surprised. Landon’s physique is the definition of a lean and muscular soldier.
    “Yeah. I was a Navy Seal,” he tells me.
    “Wow. That’s pretty hard core. I mean, a soldier is a soldier, but a Navy Seal is as badass as they come. How long were you in?” I’m so totally impressed and absolutely turned on.
    “Eight years. I had to get out. I lost a lot of friends after a raid on a compound where we thought some POW’s were being held.” Landon’s expression turns sad and I can see just how much he really loved his fellow soldiers.
    “Did you get the POW’s out?” I ask him.
    “No. It was a disastrous situation. We were 20 yards out, silent as we had ever been and they just started firing on us. A few of my buddies made it in to try and find the POW’s. After 25 minutes of firing back and forth, the bad guys started blowing up the building piece by piece. I’m not sure the POW’s were ever there to begin with. That’s the problem over there. Sometimes you get intel that’s purely meant to trap and kill American soldiers. When my time was up, I decided I had to go.” Landon’s eyes are pink as he works to hold back how emotional the memory of that time is for him. I have so much respect for what he and his fellow soldiers did and are continuing to do over there. It must be tough to live a life of simply following orders without question. But, I suppose if that’s not what they wanted to do, they wouldn’t sign their lives away to the United States Government.
    “That’s amazing, Landon. I’m sorry you lost such good friends, but I’m glad you made it out alive.” I take his hand in mine and rest our hands on my lap. I want to comfort him. I don’t want him to be sad at what he lost. I want him to happy at what he has. I know how hard it can be to focus on that sometimes.
    When I first moved to Chicago I thought a lot about the life I had to leave behind. I thought about leaving my father to die under that tree. It took a lot of time before I could focus on the fact that I literally dodged a bullet by doing what my father told me to do.  It was hard, but I was eventually able to start recognizing the life I had been given. Spring and Mercy are like sisters to me. My friends are my family now and I’m home here in Chicago.
    “Sometimes I feel guilty for having lived,” he says softly. “A lot of soldiers feel that way.”
    “I kind of know how you feel,” I say tentatively. Landon looks at me inquisitively as if to imply that there’s no way I could understand. “I told you my father died. What I didn’t tell you was that he was murdered. If the timing had been