Headache.

Holy balls. Headache.

Forcing my eyes open at the crack of dawn to stare up at the cream-colored hotel ceiling was no easy feat. The room spun and wobbled for a good three minutes or so before everything straightened itself out. Then I turned my head to the side to look at the alarm clock straight out of the nineties with red square numbers winking at me through the hazy morning light, and everything starting spinning again.

I pressed a hand to my forehead as my vision blurred. What time did the clock say? Six o’clock?

“How much did you drink last night?” I mumbled to myself before gently rolling to the other side to wrap my arm around Jo. My searching hand found only sheets. Cold sheets.

I sat up and fought against another wave of half-drunken dizziness and peered around. The room was empty. There was no trace of her. No shoes lingering by the door, no jacket or clothes on the floor, no running shower in the bathroom.

I tore the blankets off and swung my legs over the side of the bed to pad across carpet that was a little too plush for my liking in a hotel room. My inner germaphobe winced as the carpet hugged my feet while I walked to the bathroom. Too much space for germs and dirt and grime to linger in a place shared by new people every damn night. Gross.

I must have been absolutely obliterated last night to not have noticed or been bothered by it.

In the bathroom, I turned on the sink and splashed cold water on my face. I would have to shave later today. Coarse stubble was forming along my jaw, and that was a no-no. Facial hair had an uncanny knack for breaking the seal of an oxygen mask while in the air. I padded my face dry with a towel that was too thin and then stared at my reflection in a mirror covered in toothpaste spray.

“Ugh, disgusting,” I grumbled. Had the place not been so sub-par, I would have showered before heading back to base, but I had no interest in seeing what lay on the other side of the pale yellow shower curtain. Who knew if the fabric was even supposed to be yellow? Maybe it started out white.

I wet my hands and ran them through my hair. “I can’t believe you brought Jo here.”

I was ashamed that neither of us had seemed to notice the state of disrepair the place was in. We both had a few too many shots and beers apparently. I wondered if she had woken and been as repulsed as me. Maybe that was why she left.

I found myself wishing she had stayed, which was a strange thought for me to have. I was no stranger to one-night stands. In fact, I was a seasoned expert at them. I couldn’t count how many times I’d stumbled into hotel rooms with a stranger and spent the night rolling around the bed with her—tasting her, fucking her.

But last night had been different. I guessed a part of me was hoping Jo might feel the same way. Her absence this morning proved me wrong. It was just a fling for her. A chance to get it out of her system before she went back to life on the water.

I dressed quickly and called a cab, and then I found a bench outside the front of the hotel to sit and wait. My ride showed up within ten minutes, and I was heading back to base with a pounding head and acute regret for not having sunglasses with me to protect my eyes from the bright morning sun.

“You lucky son of a bitch.” Grady moped as he rolled his deodorant on. “I should have known when I saw her that she’d hitch her wagon to yours.”

“It’s not like that,” I said, pulling my shirt down over my head. “I know her. We grew up in the same town. You remember me telling you about my buddy Ryan from high school, right?”

“Sure. The PTSD counselor guy?”

“Yeah. Jo is his baby sister.”

Grady whistled low and shook his head at me. “You broke the bro code big time.”

I chuckled. “Ryan’s not like that. Besides, Jo is a big girl and more than capable of making her own decisions. Ryan’s not the kind of guy to tell his sister who not to sleep with.”

“Every guy is the kind of guy who will tell his sister who not to sleep with. Take it from someone who has a sister, all right?”

I shrugged and buckled my belt. “Whatever.”

We both headed out of our quarters and made for the base chow hall for lunch. I hadn’t eaten all morning, and the gut rot from the alcohol had subsided to a dull ache. We grabbed our food and sat down at our usual spot in the big room amongst a few others from our squadron.

Dylan, the young kid who had gone out with us last night, looked up from his food and grinned at me. “Sup, Flynn?”

“Hey, kid,” I said. I unscrewed the cap on my water bottle and drank greedily.

Dylan picked up his nearly finished tray of food and shimmied down his bench to sit across from me and Grady. He leaned forward on his elbows and raised his eyebrows at me. “Ghoul’s been talking a lot of shit about you.”

I put my water bottle down and snorted. “I’d forgotten what an ass he’d made of himself until you just reminded me. What a clown.”

Dylan’s eyes darted up and down the length of our long table. “He’s pretty pissed.”

“I don’t care.” I shrugged. “He can be pissed if he wants. His ego took a big hit last night.”

The three of us ate in silence for a while. My first few bites of potatoes and meat were hard to get down, but once I got halfway through, my hunger outweighed my hungover stomach, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the food. Grady went on beside me about the girl he had almost managed to take home last night. Dylan listened in awe and looked back and forth between us as Grady’s mood soured closer to the end of his story.

“And,” he said, “if I’d had my wingman like I was supposed to, I probably would have been able to get laid last night. But he had his head up his own ass and was too busy chasing that pretty redhead around the dance floor.” He shot me a flat look.

“You were too shitfaced last night to take a girl home, Grady. I wouldn’t have helped you, even if Jo hadn’t shown up.”

“The bro code really means nothing to you, hey?”

“It did when I was a teenager. But now? No.”

Grady sighed and nodded toward Dylan. “How ‘bout you, kid? Any luck with the ladies last night.”

“No.” Dylan shrugged. “That’s okay, though. It was fun to just get out and have a good time and not think about routes and missions and shit.”

“Speaking of,” I said. “What time are we heading out tomorrow morning?”

“Oh seven hundred,” Grady said.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the mission the following day. I cleaned my plane and made sure she was ready for flying. I cleaned my gear and prepped it, and after dinner, set to tidying my room. When the work was done, a few guys got together to sit outside and play cards.

The night was cool and pleasant, and I found myself wondering where Jo was. Had she already gone back to the coast? These thoughts led to other ones. Was she still thinking about our night? Did she regret it? Had we made a foolish, drunken mistake?

I sure as hell didn’t think it was a mistake. And I knew for certain that I would be thinking about her smile, her eyes, and her naked body for months to come. Maybe more. There had been something electric between us; something I hadn’t felt with any other woman before.

Sure, it could have been because of the alcohol. But a lot—if not most—of my one-night stands involved liquor, and the memory of the girl had never been imprinted on the back of my eyelids like Jo was.

There was nothing I could do to stop thinking about her naked on the bed, or to stop hearing her breathless giggles as I made love to her.

Get a grip, man, I thought as I shook my head in an effort to chase away my thoughts. Made love? Who are you? Romeo?

I was not the man who made love to women. I was not the man who pined after a girl, either. I was a one-night ride, and that was that. My lifestyle didn’t leave wiggle room for emotions to get involved. It was easier to fuck and leave, and when the opportunity came again, repeat the process.

Somehow, I’d have to do the same with Jo because I was committed to this life. I wasn’t leaving it. I’d found my calling, and there was nothing in the world that could ever pull me away from it.

Not even a strawberry-haired girl with a laugh that made my heart swoon.

By the time morning rolled around, I had convinced myself that Jo leaving the hotel was the best way our night of wild drunk sex could have ended. I attended my morning mission meeting and sat with Grady, who withheld his jokes and wore his serious face as the Colonel ran through our mission and flight patterns.

Once we were dismissed, the squadron headed out to the tarmac, where each of us got in our fighter planes and waited for the command to ascend.

Fifteen minutes later, the sky welcomed me with puffy white clouds and shades of bright blue. All thoughts of Jo disappeared, and I was able to focus on the task at hand. I flew like I always did, like I was part of the plane herself. Barren land passed beneath me, and I lifted the nose of the plane to breach the cloud cover above.

Surrounded by fields of white cotton candy, I smiled to myself as I thought one last time of Jo. I wished good things for her. A bright future. A future she loved on the ocean until she was ready to go home and live a quiet life. I hoped she would marry a rich man who loved her and would cherish her like she deserved. She could fill her home with redheaded children and live happily ever after.

And I would be in the sky where I belonged.