5 Questions

"Hey Kingston. How's your night going?" he asked.

"Hey, Alex."

"You look absolutely stunning as always."

"Thank you. Now I need to hit the head."

He leaned in and whispered something into her ear. Dean just sat there watching. He made her laugh and smile, and he watched him gently kiss her behind her ear.

She backed up and started to argue with him. He looked like he was begging for an apology. She pointed at her ear and then at him. Whatever she was saying, he was glad it wasn't him.

"Wait a second, come here," Alex said.

"What? I am here with a friend. I need to get back."

He leaned in.

"I was thinking of you and I. Remember when we went four-wheeling and got stuck in the mud? I went to push us out, and you accelerated, showering me in mud?"

"I do."

"Do you remember showering with me afterward?" he asked.

She smiled and let out a laugh.

"Yes. There was no hot water, but we had no choice but to shower in it."

"Wasn't that fun?"

"I froze my tits off, but I did have an enjoyable time," she said.

"Would you like to go again? I am going up to Dusty's place this weekend. No one will be able to see us there."

"I would, but..."

"Come on. You can't even think of a valid reason not to," he said close to her ear.

He kissed her on her tiny red heart.

She backed away. "What the hell are you doing, Alex?" She was shocked.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I had a little too much to drink, and I was thinking about us."

"No shit! Look, it would be best if you accepted that we are over and never will happen again. Move on, Alex. Find someone to love you."

"Like I know you still do?" he asked, tears welling in his eyes.

"Like I did," she said with empathy.

He looked devastated.

She put her hand on his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry, Mi Vida. We both need to move on."

"I thought we agreed not to call each other by those names."

"I really need to go. I don't want to leave my friend waiting too long."

Alex looked over at Dean.

He saw her put her hand on his shoulder. She was saying something that made his face drop. He looked shattered. He saw him look over at him. They locked eyes. It lasted until he looked away because Allie was speaking to him.

"It must be nice to be able to date a coworker."

"He's with the FBI, not the CPD."

"Whatever. He's a lucky guy."

"I've got to go."

She patted him on the chest and took off to the ladies room.

Several minutes later, she walked through the crowd, wiping her hands on the jeans.

"They never have fucking paper towels. I guess I should be thankful they have toilet paper."

She slid back into the booth, and he joined her.

They each took two shots, one after the other. She felt the warmth in her body. She felt fine. He looked fine. Everything was just fine. It was a very new feeling.

"Who's the guy?"

"Jealous, Cowboy? You know Alex. Don't act like you don't. To answer your question, he is a friend of mine. We have… history. Why? Jealous?"

"No. I have no right to be jealous. We aren't together."

Okay, now I am jealous, he thought.

"Your turn to answer."

"Pass,"

She smiled wide and took a shot.

"Fuck I forgot you had both passes left."

"Alright, going back to your answer about sleeping with someone. You said you loved them all?"

He looked at her.

"Yes. All three of them."

"How did you know you were in love? Is there a way to tell if you are really in love with someone? Besides the heartache you feel when they are gone?"

"I think there is a way to know. I felt an affection for them beyond anyone else I had dated. All I wanted to do was keep them safe and see them happy. We had our problems and a few arguments, but that is just a way to know you can express yourself safely with them."

"That's a very respectable answer. Hearing that, I can confidently say I've been in love twice," she said.

They each took their last shot. There was silence. Allie looked at those beautiful eyes.

"Your eyes are intoxicating. Tell me, can you see into my soul?"

She remembered saying those words before. But when?

He choked on the last sip of his beer.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Nope. Wrong pipe."

He slapped his chest. "You know what, Allie? I wish for you to be in love again someday and, without any doubt, know that you are in love. When you do, he will be the luckiest guy in the world. I wouldn't mind throwing my hat in the ring."

"That is nice of you to say, but wishes are useless. If one did come true, that one would be nice.

Being able to have a baby would be a better one, she thought.

Sweet baby Jesus, it would be great if you could do me a solid on this one, he thought.

The two would share a soft, gentle, intimate kiss if this had been a romantic movie. She really could fall for this man. She knew that there was something there. Instead, she did his last shot and then drained her beer.

"You can really throw them back," he said.

"I spent 12 years in the Marine Corps. After cleaning our rifles and sidearms, we had nothing better to do in our off time."

"So, do you want anything else?" he asked. "I can go see my friendly neighborhood bartender again."

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. Maybe water this time."

He slid out of the booth and headed to the bar. She slid over and took the middle of the booth. Things were getting a little too heavy, too personal. It was time for her to drop this conversation topic. As comfortable as she felt with him, she wouldn't give herself to anyone. Emotions cause pain. Pain causes weakness.

He came back, and when he was halfway there, he saw that she had taken over the entire bench. He could take a hint. He put two glasses of water on the table and slid onto the opposite bench.

"I guess we can hear each other now. No need for cramped quarters."

She was playing with a sugar packet, twirling it over and over, end on end.

"That conversation really bothered you, didn't it?" he asked.

"Let's just change the subject."

"Allie, who hurt you?"

"What! Nobody hurt me."

"You and I both know that is bullshit. Someone at some point hurt you mentally or emotionally; maybe both."

She was starting to feel every single shot. The comment irritated her, and the tequila amplified it.

"Let me get this straight: you have had a few shots with me, and now you're an expert on me. You don't know me. You would be terrified of me if you knew me. You wouldn't be looking me in the eyes and holding my hand. No one hurt me. I did all the damage to myself," she said.

"We all feel that way at times. That the bad decisions we made were a form of self-harm, that doesn't mean we need to detach from our feelings."

"Detach... from our feelings. Dean, do you know why we are called jarheads?" she asked.

"I thought it was the haircuts the guys get."

"The women don't get them; they call us jarheads."

"True. So obviously, there is another meaning I don't know about," he said.

"They call us jarheads because the minute we are so politely asked to get off the bus and stand on the yellow footprints, they begin to strip us of all things civilian, everything that makes you an individual. When we walk through the large silver door, we are told we will only enter these doors once. When we cross the threshold, we are stripped of every bad habit, everything we have learned in our civilian life that doesn't include discipline, honor, courage, and commitment."

"Wow, that's intense," he said.

"That is when they unscrew the lid of our minds and empty it of all we know. After thirteen weeks of physical pain, emotional manipulation, and verbal abuse, the jar is packed full of what they want us to know, and it's vacuumed and sealed. Then it's off to our occupation school to learn the job we will have for the next four years," she said.

"What was your job, Allie?" he asked.

He was almost begging for an answer.

"I was an MP for four years, a DI for two, and then for six years, I did something I thought I wanted to do, but, in the end, it was the last thing I wanted to do in the last place I wanted to be. That sums it up perfectly," she said.

"You said you do your job for the next four years; what happens after that?"

"You can either go for a different occupation or continue your current one if you reenlist. Most Marines only do the four years, and then they are gone," she said. "The Marine Corps has the lowest retention rate of all the branches. My being in for 12 years is a rarity. I wanted to make Gunnery Sergeant. I made my goal, shit happened, and I needed to get out. So that's one reason we are the few, and you must be a total badass to get through the training."

"The few. The proud. The Marines," he said.

"Some recruits don't even make it through boot camp. And you basically have to go postal to leave boot."

"I can see how that would skew your emotions a little."

"Again, you have no idea," she said. "How about some food? Alcohol makes me very hungry... and slightly horny," she said.

And slightly horny! Why the fucking fuck would you say that out loud! You go from pissed off to horny in 2.2 seconds. He's going to think you're a little bit psycho, she screamed in her head.

He sat there for a few seconds, wondering if he should say something. She looked embarrassed. He was not sure he'd seen her look embarrassed.

"Yeah, I get hungry too," he smiled.

Two baskets of fries and one basket of mozzarella sticks were washed down with two more beers and shots. She definitely wasn't shy about eating what she wanted in front of anyone.

He noticed that she was smiling. Her smile was gorgeous, and there was something almost childlike about it.

"You know you are adorable when drunk," he said.

He had his hand on the table and played with the label on his beer. Allie put her hand on his.

"You know what? You're adorable when I'm drunk."

"Am I?" he asked.

He lifted his wrist and spread his fingers open, and she interlaced her fingers with his.

"I have a question, and please don't take this wrong. I guess you have been with more than three people.

"And you would be correct. I mean, I am not in the triple digits," she said.

"I know that. I was just wondering, have you always used protection?"

"Always. But..."

"But?" he asked.

"There was one time when I guess it wasn't brought up."

"How do you know?"

"Well, unless he took it with him, which, eww, gross, it wasn't in my trash."

Oh, fuck me. She's right. We didn't use anything. It was the last thing I was thinking of, Dean thought, his face was brooding.

"Are you okay? Dude, relax, it wasn't you," she said with a laugh. "At least I'm fairly sure it wasn't."

Now that she brought up the night at Ava's, he really should say something. What if he had got her pregnant? Obviously, he didn't, thank goodness, because his mother would have tanned his hide.

"This place is pretty cool. Do you come here often?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. I live pretty close. In the summer I can walk here. Not on the way home. That is a job for Lyft. I should invest in the place. I give them enough of my money. In Decent weather, I can walk. I'm only 12 blocks from here."

"I live on the east side. Bruss mentioned Ava's. I go there sometimes with my buddies."

"You're as east side! Man, I don't know if we can even be friends, me being a Westsider and all. Eastsider and an FBI agent. Things aren't looking good for you, Cowboy." She laughed. "I do make it over there maybe once or twice a month. I love to play pool. I can play a rather good hustle."

And break a man's face, then kick him through a wall, he thought

"How often do you go there? I can't believe we have never crossed paths. So weird!" she said.

"I pop in every now and then. I just moved here last year, so I am still learning the lay of the land. Even though there is a girl at my work named Joleene, she has been begging to take me out and show me around," he said.

He took a drink of his beer and watched her face.

"Joleene? Like the Dolly Parton song? I once met a beautiful girl named Cory. She had red hair and green eyes. Not as dark as yours but beautiful just the same."

He could tell that his talking about another woman was bothering her.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not your man because she is trying hard every damn day to get with me. She made this this fudge one time, and I swear to God---"

She cut him off. "Cowboy, can we please not talk about other women who would like to fuck you?"

She was highly annoyed with the conversation.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think that would bother you. Are you, like, jealous or something?"

I didn't know it would bother me either, she thought.

"Me jealous? Of course not. Like you said earlier, we have no reason to be jealous."

Mother of God, I am so fucking jealous, she thought.

"Do you think she is prettier than me? Don't answer that. I don't care. I mean, it's your life. You talk to whoever you want to. See the town with whoever you want."

"Okay. Anyway, I would think you would remember me if we crossed paths."

Apparently, I was not as memorable as you might think.

"Good point. I mean, who could forget you?" she asked

You for the love of God! You! "I haven't been there in a long time. David usually drags me there. I wouldn't mind stopping in again at some point."

"We should go!"

"Sure, when?"

"Now! We should go now! It's nowhere near my bedtime! I'll even foot the bill for the ride," she said.

"Don't you think you've had enough for the night?"

"We don't have to do any more drinking when we get there. I want to play pool and dance. I love to dance!"

I am perfectly aware of your dancing skills. I should shut this idea down. I am not having a repeat of last time. I can't do that, nope, he debated internally.

"Well? Hello? Please," she said.

She made her best doe eyes.

"How can I possibly say no?"

YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND SAY NO, IDIOT. THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL! CAN WE CALL A MEETING OF THE COMMON SENSE COMMITTEE! You know what reason? Why don't you listen to me, take a nap, and let my impulse take over for a while, he said.

There was a great debate going on in his mind.

"We need a ride," she said.

"Don't worry, I have that covered.

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