No thanks. I enjoy my work and life too much to risk it for a quick shag.
Anyway, back to Kit. She’s five-foot ten with delicious brown skin. Her hair is always immaculately pulled back into a bun, and her eyes make men and women swoon. Like I said, she’s gorgeous. Kit is also the rule follower. We rely on her to keep us on the straight and narrow. She’s not always successful, as evidenced by my late, drunk arse causing issues.
“If we get any time off before shipping out, I’ll pay for a night out,” I say, hoping that’s enough to mollify her.
“Deal.” Boot answers over the top of Kit, beaming as Kit’s eyes roll. Becca ‘Boot’ Bootman is the youngest of us all. She joined the ship two years ago as a green seventeen-year-old and looked terrified for the first six months, but we took her under our wing and showed her the way. It’s fortuitous that we’re all lady-loving sailors. It meant we bonded quickly, which is crucial for life on board. Sharing a room the size of a broom cupboard is tough enough. Doing it with people you don’t like is impossible.
I’ve managed to shove my nasty clothes in my locker by the time we hear a commotion outside. WO Benson is making his way through the bunks, no doubt with Leading Hand Grey plastered to his side. She’s such a fucking arse-kisser. We joined up on the same day. I spent eight weeks with her at HMS Raleigh. We learned how to become sailors there, and I learned how muchshewanted to be noticed.
Grey is a regular teacher’s pet. Which I couldn’t give a shit about normally, but she’s a snake. She’d turn on any of her fellow sailors if it meant she looked good in front of the brass. People like that piss me off, and I’m not great at hiding my feelings. Apparently my face gives me away every time.
As you can imagine, Grey and I are not friends. We barely speak unless it’s catty comments, so that means she’s extra shitty to me. Unfortunately, it usually blows back on the rest of my bunk mates, too.
“Your hair,” Cheddar whispers.
I do the grossest thing ever and lick both my hands before running them over my head. Hopefully it’s enough to temporarily stick down any wayward hairs. I know my bun is not tight enough, but it will have to do.
We’re brought to attention by WO Benson. Each of us stands ramrod straight next to our bunks. All eyes stare at a spot on the wall as he enters. My left eye twitches as Grey follows him like a fucking shadow. I feel her distaste for me through her prolonged staring.
The silence in the bunk is thick enough to choke on. I can hear Benson’s boots—measured, deliberate—getting closer. Each click of his heels is a countdown. My heart’s hammering so loud I’m certain Grey can hear it. Probably getting off on it, the cow.
He takes his time with Cheddar’s bunk. Then Kit’s, Boot’s. All pass muster. My stomach acid does a little victory dance. Maybe, just maybe—then he’s in front of me, and his nose wrinkles.
“Dawson, you stink.”
Shit. I should’ve known I couldn’t get away with it, but now I need to think fast. “Sorry, sir, the showers were crowded this morning.”
He narrows his eyes. I know he doesn’t believe me, but there’s no proof of anything untoward. “You’ve earned yourself an extra PT session. Report to the main deck in thirty minutes.”
Internally, I’m crying. My body needs sleep and probably more food, not a shitty physical training session. Grey’s standing just behind Benson’s left shoulder, close enough that I can see her taking inventory of every flaw. Her eyes linger on my hair, my collar, and the faint sheen of sweat on my forehead. When our eyes meet, her mouth curves—not quite a smile, more like a cat spotting a wounded bird.
“In fact, your entire bunk can join you, Dawson. Maybe that will be a reminder of what it means to be a sailor on this ship. You let yourself down, you let us all down.”
My jaw hurts, I’m gritting it that hard. I want to smack Grey when I see her smirk.
“Yes, sir,” we answer in unison.
He grunts and leaves.
“Fucking hell, Romeo,” Kit whines, and I can’t blame her.
“I’m sorry.”
Cheddar shrugs. “It could’ve been worse. Plus it’ll do us some good to get the blood pumping.”
Boot is already getting changed. She’s a fitness freak, so I’m sure she’s quite happy with the extra PT.
“Kit, I’ll do your laundry for a week.”
She sighs. “Fine. But seriously, Rome. You gotta do better. I’m not having any more leave taken off me because you can’t keep your fingers out of women’s knickers. Understand?”
I nod vigorously and salute. “Aye aye, Kitson. Understood loud and clear.”
Kit catches my eye, and her expression softens just a fraction. “You’re a pain in my arse, Romeo.”
“Yeah, but I’m your pain in the arse.”
“Unfortunately.”
