Buck doesn’t look up from the steak he’s grilling over the flames. “At least you weren’t last.”
I still can’t believe we ended up in second place. After our extended break in the woods, I was sure we were toast. But apparently, Kade and Yassir ran into some trouble and lost their way on the last checkpoint. That left Buck and Emilio to claim the victory and the prize dinner. The rest of us are stuck with MREs. Again.
I sit on a log across from Buck, watching the meat sizzle. The smell makes my stomach growl, but all I can taste is Diego. It’s been hours, and I can still taste him on the tip of my tongue.
Emilio sits next to Buck, quiet. He hasn’t said much since we got back to camp, even though they won. Even though he’s about to eat an actual steak instead of another cardboard meal.
“Where are the losers anyway?” Diego asks. “Still doing those extra drills?”
Buck checks the steak. “Probably. Rourke’s not exactly known for cutting people slack.”
“Sucks to be them.”
“Serves them right for being slow,” Buck says, flipping the steak with a fork. The other side is a perfect charred brown. “You get lazy, you pay the price.”
“Would have expected more from Kade, though,” Diego says. “He’s usually so on top of shit. I guess even Mr. Perfect can fuck up sometimes.”
The four of us eat in silence, the only sound the crackling of the flames. Buck and Emilio divide up the steak while Diego and I choke down our MREs. I can’t stop watching Emilio. He picks at the meat, pushing it around his plate more than eating it. He avoids my gaze.
Every now and then, I catch Buck’s eye, and he gives me this look. A hard, assessing stare, like he’s trying to figure out what to do with me. With the information he’s got now. One of his squadmates a cocksucker. A liability. A weak link.
I feel like I’m under a microscope, and Buck, the lab-coated scientist, is waiting to see what I do next, how I react.
Diego, on the other hand, seems completely unaffected by the whole thing. He wolfs down his meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week. He makes casual conversation, asks Buck how he grilled the steak just right, teases Emilio for taking the bigger half. There’s not a trace of worry or shame on him. He’s either a much better actor than I am, or he genuinely doesn’t give a fuck.
After dinner, the talk stays surface level. Training tomorrow. How sore everyone is. The bugs. The heat. All the usual soldier talk.
Like always, Buck is the first to stand, wiping his big hands on his pants. “I’m turning in. Long day tomorrow.” He gives me one last look before heading to the tent. “Don’t stay up too late.”
He doesn’t have to spell it out. The warning is clear.Don’t fuck up again.
Diego yawns and stretches a few minutes later. “Yeah, I’m beat too. See you guys in the morning.” He claps Emilio on the shoulder as he passes. “Nice work today, hermano.” When he catches my eye, he winks, and something flutters in my stomach.
Then it’s just me and Emilio. The firelight flickers orange and gold across his features—a strong jaw, full lips, blue eyes I’ve always found easy to look at. Until now.
He waits until Diego’s inside the tent before he speaks. “So.”
Just one word, but it lands like a punch.
“I’m sorry, Em,” I say, staring into the flames.
“Sorry for what?” he asks. “For getting caught, or for doing it in the first place?”
I don’t want to lie to him. Not if I can help it. I’m sick of lying. “Both. I guess.”
Emilio’s quiet for a long moment. The night insects chirp all around us. “I thought we were friends, man.”
“We are.”
“Friends tell each other things.”
“I don’t… it’s not something I know how to talk about.” I look at him, my chest tight. “I’m sorry you found out like that.”
“Why Diego?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Of all people,” he says, not meeting my gaze, “why him?”
