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And when he did, he would do what everyone inevitably did if they saw too much of the mess I really was:

He’d leave.

Everyone always did. And if they didn’t, I did.

We should’ve just stayed roommates who blew each other sometimes. I should’ve come home alone.

No, we wouldn’t be having the amazing sex we were now—well, when my stupid dick cooperated—but I also wouldn’t be getting this attached to him. Because Iwasgetting attached to him, holy shit. All that ever got me was heartache, especiallyonce the other person saw enough of my cards to realize they needed to cut their losses.

I watched him talking to Andrew and Matt. He was telling them a story about something that happened on his last shipboard deployment, and they were both listening raptly.

I just watched him and silently begged him not to cut his losses until after we’d made it back to Okinawa. I was already struggling to keep my head above water; if I suddenly lost him, too, I’d be a wreck. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him along, but I wasn’t so sure I could get through the rest of this trip without him.

Unaware of my mental freakout, Riley gestured with his drink and laughed. “I mean, the Navy keepstryingto tone down Wog Day because it’s like hazing or whatever, and they’ve managed to kill some of the really crazy shit. But like, when will we enlisted peons ever get any other chance to dunkofficersinto the Tank of Truth and Wisdom?”

Matt laughed. “What was in the tank, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t even know.” Riley shrugged. “I guess people used to throw in garbage and stuff, but they decided that was unsanitary. And we couldn’t use dye packs anymore because they stain everything.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure what they managed to put in it, only that it smelled disgusting and turned all the Wogs green.”

I chuckled, grateful that hilarious military stories were always good for lifting me out of a dark mood, or at least distracting me from it.

Andrew wrinkled his nose. “So they just… put all that shit in a tank, and then dunk people in it?”

“Or make them crawl through it,” Riley said. “Sometimes both. Depends on what kind of equipment they have handy, how much space—all of that.”

“Eww,” Andrew said. “And they even put officers through it?”

“Anybody who hasn’t crossed the equator.” Riley flashed a toothy grin. “And the longer you stay a Wog in your career, the more the younger Shellbacks are going to make you suffer when you finally cross the line.” He paused. “There’s even a legend of an admiral who was still a Wog.”

“What?” I scoffed. “How the fuck does someone get that high in the ranks without ever crossing?”

“Hell if I know. And like I said, it could be a legend. It’s funny as shit, though. Allegedly the admiral was aboard a ship, and the morning of Wog Day, he went over the 1MC—the intercom that goes to the whole ship—and announces that it’s cancelled. All of it. So of course the whole crew is bummed out. But like five minutes later, the CO gets on the 1MC and says, ‘Disregard that. Wewillbe doing Wog Day. And I also need the lowest ranking Shellback on the boat to report to the bridge immediately.’”

I raised my eyebrows. This was one sea story I hadn’t heard. My brothers also leaned in, clearly as curious as I was how this was going to go.

“Everyone asked around,” Riley went on, “and they found this E-2 Shellback. I don’t know if they threw him on a boat right after boot camp or what, but this kid was still wet behind the ears and he’d already crossed the equator. So he goes up to the bridge, and…” Riley snickered. “Allegedly, the CO had put a leash on the admiral, and he handed it to the E-2 and said, ‘he’s your Wog for the day. Have fun.’ And that fucking one-star admiral spent the whole day walking around on a leash held by an E-2 Seaman.”

My brothers and I all howled.

“Oh my God,” I said. “Thathasto be an urban legend.”

“I mean, probably?” Riley grinned. “But there’ve been enough ‘no fucking way that’s true’ sea stories that turned out to be true, so… anything is possible.”

Matt and Andrew looked at me, eyebrows up as if asking for confirmation.

“He’s not wrong,” I said. “I’ve heard a lot of bugfuck insane bullshit stories, and then later on, I found out they were true.”

Their eyes widened.

“Yeah?” Matt asked. “Like what?”

I thought about it. “Well, there was this story going around about this one lance corporal who showed up to formation, still drunk with a pair of panties stuck to the ass of his pants. And like, everybody was laughing at him, and he didn’t know why, but then this other guy yanks the panties off the dude’s uniform and screams, ‘You want to tell me how my wife’s panties got on your utilities, motherfucker?’”

Andrew’s jaw dropped. Matt just stared, gobsmacked.

Riley was eyeing me like he wasn’t sure if I was bullshitting. “And this one turned out to be true?”

“I swear I thought it was an urban legend,” I said. “I mean, we’ve all heard like fifty variations of it, so…” I shrugged.

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