Pose (Club Kitten Dancers 2)

“I want to call you tonight. Is that all right?”

“Yeah. Do you have your phone?”

He hands it over and I punch in my number while he nibbles on my ear, then I hand his phone back and he releases me.

“Tonight,” he says, and I n

od.

“Tonight.”

James leaves and I get in my car and close the door.

What the hell happened to me today?

Chapter 3

James

Kasey is insanely perfect. She’s sweet and cute and adorable and much too good for the likes of a broken airman like me.

I watch her pull away. She waves as she leaves the parking lot and I sit there for a second like a chump, just thinking about her.

My only regret is that I didn’t meet her sooner. Why couldn’t I have met her before my deployment? Before I left? Why couldn’t I have met her before things in my life went horribly wrong?

Then again, maybe it’s better that we didn’t meet before my life changed. Maybe it’s better she didn’t see me during my months of physical therapy.

Cooper and I were only together overseas for a month when an IED claimed my leg and the lives of our friends. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. They weren’t supposed to die on deployment. They certainly weren’t supposed to die right after we arrived.

I shake my head, silently trying to shake the memory, and I drive home.

My apartment is a small studio without a lot of character. It’s basically a complete dump, but it’s better than living in the dorms on base. I’m glad those days are over. It’s nice to have my own space away from base. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy living around my fellow airmen. It’s more to do with the fact that those people knew me before I lost my leg.

The people in my apartment building knew me after.

My life, as it is, is basically split into two timelines. There’s James before losing his leg and James after. It might seem like a little thing, losing a limb, but it changes you.

Not just physically, either.

I’m still in good physical condition. I don’t let my missing limb keep me from the gym or rigorous training, but hours of lifting don’t change the way I see myself.

I still view myself as broken.

Incomplete.

Damaged.

When I think of girls like Kasey, I think of how they deserve someone who can give them the world.

Am I that guy?

I’m not so sure anymore.

I park in the large parking lot and slam my door shut louder than I should. On nights like tonight, I wish we had assigned parking. Yeah, I have a handicap card I can hang in the rearview mirror and park close, but I don’t want to. I don’t like announcing my status as damaged goods to the world.

Plus, even though it’s not really true, I still think there might be other people who need the spot more than me.

I still think there might be someone else who needs to be close to the building.