The idea of a reader who rejects the notion of being treated differently in the military environment just because of her gender. Everyday she walks the tight rope of blending in with men and preserving her identity which is not necessarily shaped by her gender, but shaped by the experiences she went through, through the lenses of her gender. (If that makes sense).
Enter Ghost. Broad shouldered, tall as a lamppost, imposing, heavy in his presence like a shadow with a weight that presses down on everyone around him. And she hates him. Not for the way he is, though she hates how she can feel him the way one would feel a sudden change in air pressure, but for the way he treats her: cautiously, almost gently. And she knows he's rough with the men, doesn't hold back. She's seen him spar more times than she's interacted with him.
So the next time they spar, she kinds of plays dirty. Nothing too obvious. She elbows him once (or five times) when he dodges her fist, attempts to trip him every time he sidesteps her. The failure doesn't even faze her. Just the split second where he almost loses his balance is enough to make satisfaction bloom in her chest. If Ghost's going to underestimate her, she'll gladly show him why he shouldn't. And may be, under the thick layer of rage, she is having a little bit of fun making a man twice her size trip and wince every time her sharp elbow lodges in between his ribs.
Ghost, on the other hand, is having the opposite of fun.
He stands opposite her on the sparring mat, breathing hard under his mask, strands of hair damp with sweat sticking just above his stormy eyes. For a moment, he just stares at her.
"Do you have a problem with me?"
She blinks, not expecting him to just confront her right then and there. "No." Her hands drop by her sides. "Nothing I can think of. Why?"
She hates that his breathing is noticeably less labored than hers, and she hates that she just outright lied when there's no reason for her to. It's not like Ghost intimidates her, despite the general air of look at me wrong and I'll stab you that seems to engulf him whole. He just took her by surprise, and her brain automatically switched to flight instead of fight.
He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and her eyes snag on the pale underside of his bicep, the way the compression shirt chokes around the width of his muscles. "Seemed a bit rough there," he says, no malice, just pure curiosity. May be even a hint of concern. She hates it.
There's no outward reaction to her outburst other than the slightest raise of his eyebrows. "Just checking on a comrade."
Her cheeks heat up. "Right. I have somewhere to be."
Without waiting for an answer, she rushes out of the training room, embarrassment sloshing up and down her throat like vomit. She manages to avoid him for the rest of the day, something that Kyle finds extremely amusing.
"You can't avoid him forever," he says.
The mess hall is packed and rowdy. Kyle has to lean into her so she could hear him better.
"Not planning on it. I just don't understand why he's so cautious around me. It pisses me off. I'm not some fragile doll he can easily break."
"May be he's nice to you because he wants to sleep with you." Kyle says this with the same tone of voice he uses to tell her it's raining, or that he watched a new movie last weekend and it was a royal waste of his time.
She bristles in her seat. "What?"
Across the room, her eyes lock with Ghost's. He holds the contact for a second too long then looks away.
Kyle laughs. "Just kidding. Ghost may look like a dark romance daddy, but he's the nicest guy I know."
"Yeah, right." Even through her skepticism, she can't remember an instance when Ghost stepped out of line, tried to touch her inappropriately, or said something that would make her uncomfortable. In fact, no one around base, man or woman, has anything bad to say about him. Higher ups like him for being professional, strict, and a great leader. Lower rank soldiers admire his strength, his quick decision making in the most stressful situations, and his endless mentoring and guiding.
In other words, though unsociable to a fault, he's the nicest guy anyone knows.
"Why does he treat me like I'm a...woman then?"
Kyle looks at her like she finally lost it. "Hate to break it to you but-"
"That's not what I meant." She smacks his arm. "I meant he goes easy on me."
"Because you're a woman?"
"I seriously doubt that. Doesn't sound like something he would do." A pause. "Or may be he wants to get in your pants."
The next time she sees Ghost, it's because she went looking for him. Not by choice. She's innocently walking to her room at the end of the day when Price steps out of his office, a stack of folders in hand.
"Mind dropping these off to Ghost?"
She stops and contemplates the repercussions of denying her caption this small favour. "No, captain. I can take them with me."
He hands them to her with a thankful smile and returns to his office, closing the door behind him. She just lingers there for a second, thumping the floor with her shoes, practicing how this simple conversation with Ghost would go. Would he confront her about her earlier flight and day long avoidance? Did he even notice her avoiding him?
A loud noise sounds from inside captain Price's office and she bolts down the hall. She experienced enough embarrassment today and doesn't need her captain to look at her like she lost it, too, for hanging out in front of his door like a kicked puppy.
Ghost's room is the last on an unwinding hallway, four rooms down from hers. When she knocks, it only takes him a couple of seconds to open the door, hair damp from the shower. There's something about seeing Ghost without his mask that always feels intimate, like she's in on a secret not many people know.
She clears her throat. "Captain sent these."
He looks at the folders she shoved between them and then back up to her, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep but ever so sharp. "Thanks," he murmurs, voice rough, and takes the folders from her.
"You want to sleep with me."
He goes still for a long moment. Mortification is like a bucket of ice cold water that splashes down on her from head to toe. She really blames, and curses, Kyle for planting that ridiculous idea in her head.
"Is that a question or a statement?" Ghost asks before she can take back what she said.
"No, it's not nothing. You have something to tell me, I'd rather you tell me upfront, not avoid me."
Oh, so he did notice. She shifts from one foot to the other and glances over her shoulder, afraid someone is just hanging around listening to this mortifying exchange.
Ghost pushes the door open wider and tilts his head to the side. "Come in. We can talk inside in privacy."
She really doesn't want to be in a closed space with him, but she has no other choice. She could bolt back the way she came from, close and lock her bedroom door and live there until she dies from hunger. Or until someone kicks down her door and force her to come out. But that's a tad too dramatic for something that can be resolved with talking. Painful, embarrassing talking. Whatever. She'll do it the way she rips band aids off.
When she steps inside, Ghost closes the door behind her. His room is not much different from hers. Expect his smells like tea. There's a mug on his desk, herbal steam slowly curling up into the air.
Ghost moves past her and drops the folders next to the mug, then he turns to face her and leans back against the desk, arms crossed. The sleeves of his shirt go taut around his biceps. She looks away.
"Fancy telling me why you act weird around me?" He asks.
"I don't act weird around you," she says, still not looking at him. It's unfair how good he looks straight out of the shower, in just a plain black shirt and grey sweatpants. "You treat me differently than the others."
Ghost's eyebrows knit in confusion. "How so?"
"You go easy on me in training."
"Has it occurred to you that may be you're stronger than me?"
The question is so absurd she has to look at him. She may be stupid at times, but she's not delusional. Sure enough, there's the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
His smile disappears. "You know my name. Use it."
Heat flares up to her cheeks. Something about the way he said that. He wasn't even mean about it. His tone there was too gentle to be mean.
"Right. I know your name."
She clears her throat. "Right." The room suddenly feels hot. "As I was saying, you go too easy on me in training. You hold back. Why?"
He braces his hands on either side of him on the edge of the desk, the muscles of his arms stretching like creatures yawning awake. "I'm not. I'm not the type to hold back. I know your limits. You can take it."
The heat on her cheeks intensifies.
He seems to catch on to her train of thoughts and turns away from her, coughing into his fist. "Christ, luv, not like that."
"I wasn't thinking anything weird!"
"Right." When he looks at her again, that small smile is back at the corner of his lips. She snaps her eyes away from his mouth to his eyes to find him watching her, not in anyway conceited, but openly curious. Having his whole, undivided attention on her feels like staring at the summer sun with naked eyes.
"I don't go easy on you," he says, voice rough but gentle. Honest. "You're one of the strongest soldiers on base. I don't see the point of finding where your limit ends. We spare to keep each other sharp, not to feed some morbid curiosity."
Oh. Well, that makes a lot of sense. He has no interest in breaking her. He knows she's strong, and he intends to keep her that way. Vice versa. Her behavior in their training this morning was childish and unprofessional.
"I'm sorry about this morning then," she says.
"So you did try to make me land on my face?"
They both smile at the same time, holding eye contact.
Nervousness flutters in her chest. She inches towards the door. "I should go."
Ghost pushes off the desk and walks to her. "I have a question for you, too."
She pauses. "What is it?"
He exhales. Seconds sail by as he stares at her for a moment. She grows even more nervous under his gaze, but doesn't look away. Not this time. This time, she masks her fascination with innocent curiosity and traces the sharp edge of his jaw, the straight slide of his nose, the cut on his lower lip, admires the way his thick lashes frame his careful, but expressive eyes.
"You and Gaz," he mumurs, peering down at her, searching, his sharp eyes studying her face. "I couldn't help but notice you spend a lot of time together, and you look awfully close. Are you-"
"No," she quickly says, laughing a little at the idea. "God, no. He's like a brother to me."
The tension bunching his shoulders eases. "I see."
But the tension in the room only grows thicker. She can't help but wonder why he's curious about the nature of her relationship with Kyle. Is it just a lieutenant's concern that his subordinates are getting a little to friendly? Relationships among comrades are not exactly prohibited, but they're heavily frowned upon because of the complications they usually lead to in the work place.
"I wouldn't date a coworker," she assures him, misjudging the source of his concern by a mile.
"I really wouldn't, Ghost." For some reason, she wants him to believe her, to believe she wouldn't break even an unspoken rule.
"My name," he murmurs, tone desperate, tormented. It steals the breath right out of her lungs.
The four walls of the room grate closer, encasing them in a much smaller space.
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so i was recently diagnosed with a chronic illness so i was not in the right headspace to write or do much of anything really. but i'm back now!!! writing and reading!! what a beautiful escape from the realities of existence. anyways, hope you enjoyed this piece. i lovingly call it ghost looks like a dark romance daddy but he's a gentle man through and through idc
buy me a kofi if you want to/enjoy my writing!
