Fly High and Go Far

BOB-Chapter Four: Timid and Nervous

"I got your number from Trace. Hope you don't mind," an unknown number texted you. You thought about the people who you interacted with and immediately knocked out everyone except for a couple of people. But, your gut spoke up.
"Floyd?" You texted back.
"Oh yeah, sorry. It's Bob," he texted back. Sammy smiled a bit.
"What can I do for you, Bob, at 9pm?"
"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you had my number. Or well, I wanted to make sure I actually got your number," he replied. Sammy could imagine a Pangolin holding his hands together whenever she got a text from Bob.
"Alrighty then," Sammy replied. "Oh hey, I owe you a beer after last Saturday."
"No you don't," Bob replied. "Trust me, I bought that with a purpose."
"Well let me pay you back in some way?" Sammy typed in.
"The San Diego Zoo is having a special giraffe exhibit?" He texted back. Sammy laughed at the innocence of Bob before seeing the text bubbles come immediately back up. "Unless you're not into that. I just really like giraffes and I don't want to go by myself. I mean I will! That's not... the problem."
"Are you asking me on a mini date, Floyd?" The messages went quiet and she felt a little bit embarrassed.
"Yes. Unless you don't want it to be," he replied. Sammy knew that he was just throwing shots and hoping for the best, only to be embarrassed afterwards.
"I appreciate the gesture, Bob. I'll go with you, date or not."
"Sweet! Okay! See you tomorrow then?"
"Yes, Bob, I'll be there tomorrow. I kind of like my job," Sammy joked around.
"Oh right, yeah. My bad. Good night, Echo."
"Call me Sammy. Or Kazansky. It's what Trace and Bradshaw call me."
"Oh okay. Good night, Sammy."
"Good night, Bob," Sammy replied with a smiley face before setting her phone down to go to bed.

Sam woke up the next morning and headed out after taking only forty-five minutes to get ready. She wore jeans and a long sleeve shirt, grabbing her helmet from her closet shelf, and headed out to ride her motorcycle to work.
  Revving the engine once, in order to get the motorcycle going and trying to not annoy the neighborhood, she headed out for the day.  Trying to get to work was always fun, especially with San Diego.  Sam didn't miss the long lines and them closing up most of the gates during the rush of the day.

  "ID," the gate guard said as Sam walked her bike up.  She flipped her visor up and smiled big handing over her ID card.  He scanned it and then saluted.  "Have a good day, ma'am."  Sam took the ID and nodded before riding off.  She looked behind her and found a sedan driving behind her awkwardly far away and slowing down way farther than normal.  Knowing that no one would try anything on base, Sam ignored it and headed on to her work.
  She parked in the lot and the sedan pulled in.  Sam groaned and turned her bike off, getting off and ripping her helmet off.  It pulled into the spot over from Sam's, and she threw up her helmet.
  "What do you want?" Sam yelled, not seeing who was inside.  But Bob got out of the car with his hands up.
  "Sorry, I didn't want to hit you on your bike," he said defensively.  Sam lowered her helmet and breathed in deeply to steady herself.
  "No, no.  I'm sorry, Bob," Sam pressed her eyebrows together and pinched her forehead.  "I, just.  I have no excuse.  I just don't like weird people when I'm on my bike."
  "No, it's okay.  I just have fears I'm going to hit someone," he got quiet.  "My, uh, dad hit someone on a bike when I was little so it's scared me ever since," Bob smiled awkwardly.  Sam nodded and walked inside the building with Bob in tow.
  "Well, I appreciate the honesty," Sam piped up, looking over at Bob.  "If you ever want to get over that fear, let me know."
  Bob chuckled and smiled.  "Alright, I'll come find you."

  Sam found her way into the hangar bay for class and sat in her spot, sighing heavily.  She felt a wave of tiredness rush over her, but she knew it was just her body dreading whatever the day brought.  Though, when Bob walked in to take his seat, that perked her up a bit.  She didn't know what it was, but he was just as cute as a button.  Her eyes rested shut as she waited for class to begin.  When everyone started rolling in, she heard the shaking of ice in a plastic cup in front of her with someone sipping on their drink.
  "Kazansky, wake up," Trace said loudly.  Sam opened up her right eye and looked over at Trace with a big smile.
  "French vanilla iced coffee?" Sam asked taking the cup.
  "And two shots of espresso," Phoenix said with a smile going back to sipping on her drink, which was most likely the same thing.  The two were notorious for getting the same thing as the other.  Whether that was out of convenience or it was coincidental, the two never really bothered to find out.
 
  Sam and her teammates sat in class, going up into the air in pairs like usual.  She went second that day, only just barely getting Maverick.  The only one who got him, mind you, and so she got told that no push-ups were needed.  But that flying took everything out of her.  She sat in the break room with a bottle of water, slumped in a chair and enjoying the air conditioning.  Trace and Floyd came over, sitting in the chairs around her.
  "Congrats on getting Maverick," Phoenix said, sipping on a Gatorade.  Sam chuckled and smiled.
  "Thanks.  It made me absolutely exhausted trying to match him," Sam replied chuckling to herself.  "My dad always said he flies unsafe."
  "Yeah? How is your dad doing by the way?" Phoenix asked.  Bob sat there intently listening to everything, but keeping to himself.
  "He's okay.  He's got a medical condition he's fighting so it's fun not knowing what the future holds, but he's hanging in there," Sam said, trying not to let her emotions run rampant.  Phoenix had briefly met her parents when they had graduated flight school years earlier. 
  "What's it like having an admiral for a dad?" Bob asked.  Sam looked over and smiled to herself.
  "He's just like any other dad.  I just get the perks and priorities that come with his rank," Sam said.  "Not saying I get favoritism, but it works out that way sometimes."  Bob nodded, taking a sip of his water.

  The crew left for the day promptly at 5pm, heading home for the day and preparing for another just as grueling day.  Sam got on her bike, and Bob walked up to her with a gentle and awkward smile.
  "Can I ask you something?" He asked her.  Sam took off her helmet and look at him.
  "What's up, Floyd?"
  "Can you teach me how to ride a motorcycle?" He asked hesitantly.
  "I'm no coordinator, but I can get you the basics if that's what you wanted?" Sam said.
  "I just want to get over my fears, and I think that's something that'll help," he whispered.
  "Why don't you just ride on the back?  I don't think you'd like physically driving it," Sam offered.  Bob nodded and inhaled a bit.  "Wait, you're asking me this to get an opportunity to hang out with me?" Sam squinted with a grin plastered on her face.  Bob blushed and coughed a bit.
  "Yes and no," Bob piped up.  "But mostly yes."
  "Alright," Sam chuckled.  "I'll teach you how to ride later."  And with that she put her helmet on and ride off home.

  Sam got home to find her mom and her dad doing a puzzle at the kitchen island.  They greeted her with a big hug and two kisses on her forehead.  Her mother alerted her about dinner as her daughter ran off to her room to shower and put comfy clothes on.  When she came back out to the kitchen, they finished up the border and had about a third of the middle pieces in place.
  "How is work, sweetpea?" Her mom asked, looking up and holding onto a puzzle piece her dad plucked from her hand, needing it for the part he was working on.  Sam walked over to them and smiled at them.
  "Work is exhausting, but hey.  What can you ask for?" Sam replied, picking up a couple of pieces of the puzzle and putting them in place.  "In the end, I get to do something I love."
  "Your father has the same passion as you.  I think he'd do anything to go back up in a plane," her mother said, nudging her dad in the arm.  Her dad chuckled and smiled, looking up at his daughter.
  "Flying is in the Kazansky blood," her father choked out.  Sam smiled to herself and then turned around to get some water.
  "I'll start making dinner here shortly, sweetpea.  Is that alright?" Her mother asked.  Sam nodded and told her that despite being hungry, she could go another hour before she would ultimately start snacking.  Her mother joked that she could snack on her dad's cookies he has hidden away in the pantry.  Sam laughed when her dad gave a funny look at her mom.
  "I can assure you, those cookies are not my friend," Sam replied, nursing on her water.

  Sam excused herself from the kitchen and headed to the living room to enjoy her evening before going to bed in four or so more hours.  She pulled out her phone and wanted to text Bob.  There was an urge that was telling her to text him.  She didn't know what to say, but everything she wanted to do was right in her hands.
  "Hey," she typed in before deleting it.  That was too boring and very high school boy of her.  She sat there, reading the texts over and over again, typing in random messages here and there before ultimately settling on one.
  "Did you want me to come grab you on my bike for this weekend's giraffe exhibit?" She asked him.  She waited patiently for a response and got one within a minute.
  "I would love that," he texted.  Sam smiled, but now didn't know how to keep the conversation going until a green text came through.  "I went ahead and got us our tickets for noon."
  "Oh thanks! How much do I owe you?" Sam asked.
  "Nothing.  It's on me!" Bob texted back with a smile face.
   "Alrighty, if you say so," Sam texted back.  "Let me buy us lunch then?"
  "I'll take that.  We can go wherever you want to go.  I'm not picky."
  "I'm also not picky, Bob.  We're in the Navy.  We're kind of forced to eat whatever they give us," Sam joked.  Bob sent back a laughing emoji, but that was it.  Sam felt odd about Bob, but also knew that there was a chance he was nervous.  After all, wouldn't you be scared to approach someone with the last name Kazansky?  Someone who is arguably the best of the best?  Someone with a dad who is so high ranked that one mess up could mean the end of your career?

  Sam understood Bob if that was the case.