Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 9

Watching fifty boys rip off the sheets from their beds, only to make it to perfection over and over again, wasn't Samuel's idea of an entertaining Friday evening. Ben, on the other hand, had never lost the gleam in his eyes. In the early May heat, it had taken only a handful of minutes for the sealed dormitory windows to steam up with the commotion. But the lack of oxygen it created was the ingenious part of Ben's punishment.

Thankfully, Sergeant Lopez had returned to release Samuel for the night before hypoxia settled over the platoon. Ben included.

The sky had turned a solid blue when Samuel made it back to the billeting building. With a plastic bag full of oranges and lemonade clasped in his hand, he entered the complex, striding under the colonnade. As he neared his room, the cool breeze carried the strumming of a guitar—a string of chords that halted with a loud hit. For a moment, only the flowing water of the fountain resonated in the silence, then the playing restarted, more decisive.

Samuel turned the corner into the courtyard and the melody stopped again. From that angle, a leg in jogger shorts and the handle of a classic guitar resting against a sculpted inked shoulder poked from Rivers' room.
The music resumed, and Samuel slowed down. The tune sounded familiar, but something in the progression was off. He took another couple of steps, and Rivers' face came into view. His pinched brows created a thick groove between them. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth and his head bobbed to the rhythm. A rainbow gradient pick lifted and lowered on the strings, and his naked foot kept the beat against the red tiles. A low humming added to the chords that changed to match Rivers' voice.

He looked ethereal, so immerse in his own world.
Then Rivers grunted, and his hand halted, pulling the string in a loud cacophony. He let out a sharp burst of air, rounded his shoulders, and renewed his grip on the guitar. When he started playing again, a new confidence dictated his strokes. It was a different song, one of Samuel's favorites.
After a perfect intro, Rivers' voice came out raspy and angry.

"My girl, my girl, don't lie to me. Tell me, where did you sleep last night? In the pines..."

Rivers' eyes lifted, locking with Samuel's as if it was where they belonged. The music continued, but no sound left Rivers' parted lips. His penetrating gaze didn't falter.

Fight or flight? Neither. Samuel froze, staring back until only the chirping crickets and the rushing water filled the evening. With a blink, thoughts returned to his brain. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's a public space. You can linger."

The intensity in River's eyes turned them into a glare that refused to set him free. Samuel squeezed the plastic handles that dug into his sweaty palm.

"I didn't know you played the guitar."

"Why would you?"

Why would he? What a stupid statement. Not as stupid as the look that must have been on his face as he stood there like a lamppost. Samuel tried a smile that came out as a sneer.

Rivers put the guitar to the side. "Did you need something?"

Samuel's cheeks ignited. Was he fucking blushing? How long had he been staring now? Or gawking?

"No, uh... That's my favorite song from Nirvana."

Finally, Rivers offered anything other than condescension. "Yeah, it's an amazing cover."

Samuel ventured more steps, reaching the promise of safety of his room, but getting closer to Rivers. His armpits itched in the patch of sweat that was forming. "You're really good."