Cammies always looked good, and the deep blue had a tendency to bring out eyes in a way that would probably have this math teacher tripping over his words for the entire quarter.
Good thing I wasn't enlisted anymore. Being in the closet had been bad enough when we were all dressed like prison inmates. This? This would have been torture.
The boys in blue took seats in the back row. Backpacks rustled, papers shuffled, pens rattled. More students arrived. Seats were filling quickly, so I did one last check to make sure I had everything I needed in the order I needed it.
I resisted the urge to drum my fingers. With the late enrollments, I had a class of thirty-two now, but only twenty-six in front of me. Much as I didn't like starting late, I figured I could give the stragglers until ten after, just in case anyone had difficulty finding the room. The campus layout wasn't terribly intuitive, so students could be forgiven for being a few minutes late.
The door opened again, and when I looked up, my heart stopped.
So much for calm, cool, or collected.
There was no mistaking his identity. Even if I could have convinced myself to hide behind a veil of denial for a moment or two, the uniform--oh, Navy, why couldn't you have stuck with prison blues?--had his name right there on his chest.
My former shipmate. My ex-boyfriend.