American Bad Boy: A Military Romance Read Online Free

hand over his dark brown hair and sweeps it down over his neck.
    My mind is spinning out of control. I might black out. Am I drunk? Is this a dream?
    “You’re serious? You just decided to drop this on me? On prom night? How long have you been planning this? When did you even apply?” I’m being tossed around on a sea of anger and despair.
    I’m drowning.
    “I didn’t want to just drop it on you. I applied last summer and I’ve been jumping through all their hoops for almost a year. It’s a huge process. I had to get endorsed by our congressman. My athletic ability, my SAT scores, my leadership skills, like every little thing had to be proven and was analyzed. I didn’t want to do all that, to try so hard and then have you and everyone else pity me if I didn’t get it.”
    “This is crazy!” I jump to my feet and grab my clothes. “I can’t believe you’d make a huge decision like this,” I hop on one foot as I try to get my foot back into my twisted panties, “and not even mention it once.” I step into my dress and tug it back up over my shoulders, “what about my scholarship here? You know I can’t just walk away from that and go out east. Dammit, I haven’t even applied to any schools in New York! Zip this up will ya?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and Mack complies. His fingers send little tingles down my spine, but I blink hard and bury the sensation letting my disbelief and confusion rule the show. “Didn’t you think about me for one second? What kind of an asshole does this?”
    If he wanted to make me yell, well he got his wish.
    “Whoa, hold up. Of course I thought about you, but are you thinking about me? Christ, I thought you’d be proud of me. I thought you of all people would understand how important this is to me. You’ve known that I wanted to join the military ever since Ben …” his voice wavers.
    I remember when his brother died. It’s a day our entire nation remembers and mourns. We were fifteen and Mack was so proud of his big brother going out to New York City for a low level finance job after graduating college. We watched in horror as the twin towers were attacked. They tumbled down in slow motion, over and over, on every news station in the country.
    Mack and his parents held onto hope that Ben had called in sick that day, or showed up late. However, as they left voicemail after voicemail that would never be returned, I watched the hope slowly deflate out of their bodies.
    When we saw the groups of strangers and co-workers standing on window ledges, their hands forming a chain of solidarity as they jumped from the burning buildings, we cried. I held Mack in my arms as his body shook with sobs. He screamed at the television as he choked on his tears, “Why are you jumping? You can still get out! Why are they jumping?” He wanted so badly to believe that somehow they could still be rescued. Like there would be a back stairway that wasn’t a burning column of smoke. Like there would be a ladder high enough to reach them.
    It was the only time in my life that I’ve ever seen him cry.
    Later, when it was finally confirmed that Ben had perished that day, Mack confided in me that he actually hoped his brother had been one of the jumpers. He liked the idea that he met God on his own terms, and didn’t suffer.
    I’ve known since that day that Mack wanted to join the military. Since the day he had lost Ben, the day our nation had its heart torn out, he’d sworn he’d fight the war on terror if given the chance. However, I’d always thought he would join a local unit and that we’d still have our life together here in Colorado. I had no idea that he would try to join the most elite military academy in the country. But then again, Mack never does anything small.
    “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into West Point? They only accept, like, ten percent of the people who apply you know,” he continues. “You can’t be over twenty-three, you can’t be