Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 29: Plans

———————————————————
Peter
———————————————————

"Afternoon, sir." A sandy-haired soldier standing guard by a large tent saluted Gael. His oily gaze slid to me before widening in recognition.

I held his aggressive stare, a challenge sparking to life in his youthful eyes. We had to have been pretty close in age. What was this guy's problem? Did he want to fight? The old me might have taken him up on if that offer. Good way to relieve stress was to beat the shit out of something. Or someone.

Three weeks ago, the only thing I worried over was the impending calls full of overbearing judgment and disappointment from my father. He always called on the weekends, checking on my grades and GPA, making sure I wasn't slipping in any aspect of the cookie-cutter jock social life he expected from me. My father was a man's man, the kind who grilled during Fourth of July barbecues and got wasted all within the same hour. As his son, he expected me to follow a certain standard when it came to my college football career. He wanted to know the number of hours I invested in practice. What my fraternity was up to. Why I hadn't scored a girlfriend yet.

That distant version of myself may as well have been a lifetime ago.

Gael waved the guy off and pushed aside the rough canvas leading into a large tent. Wells's influence appeared to span across the entire compound. soldiers posted up with their hands firmly on their weapons, murmuring to their fellow watchmen when we passed by. My palms broke out with sweat beneath their sharp, watchful eyes.

Why were they looking at me like I was some kind of rabid dog that could attack at any given moment?

Casting a final glance outside, I followed after Lauren's father. The first thing to catch my eye were the countless papers strewn across the large wooden table standing near the center. Below the stacks, there sat a detailed map of the entire country. Multi-colored push pins stuck out of the parchment in several spots, a plethora of yellow sticky notes haphazardly taped over random states. Muted sunlight streamed through the flap, the inside smelling like aged leather, parchment, and damp earth. Lauren's father confidently strode under the swooping beige canopy like he owned the place, circling the table. What I had thought were Gael's private lodgings turned out to be a war room.

Peering over at my guide, I grazed my knuckles against the sore area of jaw. "So, uh. . . what exactly is it that you do here?"

"I'm afraid that's classified information. Please, have a seat." Rousing the documents, Lauren's dad didn't spare me a glance before he leaned against the lip and began studying the sheets. "I never caught your name."

Muscling down a sarcastic response, I grabbed the metal backrest of the fold-out chair. "Peter Ducane."

Lauren's father dropped the parchment onto the table, his eyes flashing like a couple of silver dollars. "Right. So then, how exactly is it that you know my son?"

I cracked my neck before I plopped down into the offered seat. "Which one?"

"Both, I suppose."

I couldn't help but bristle under his scrutiny. To my annoyance, I wasn't able to get a read on the man dubbed as Lauren's father. He seemed nice, but something about his mannerisms made me feel like a bug caught under a microscope. Just who the hell was Gael Everhart?